The Women of Kabeza

In the district of Kabeza where I am staying, all seems relatively prosperous. But that is only because what you see is on the main road, which is mostly commercial as well as is where the schools, churches and clinics are located. The road seems to more or less follow the crest of a broad hill, or it is at least elevated because about every 200 metres, there are roads that lead down the hill, from which other roads and paths twist and turn. All of it is inhabited with all manner of dwelling. The further down the hills you go, the rougher the terrain, and the more dense and crude the housing. Everywhere, the smell of charcoal fires burning. There are open drains everywhere, from which emanate all sorts of odours. Children gather water into large plastic jugs from open taps that spill into drains. At the bottom if the hill are banana trees, which sounds very exotic but is a breeding ground for all manner of pestilence.

Anyway, on Friday, Simone, Jeanne and I walked the treacherous paths down to the bottom of one of these roads to pay our respects to women who are members of Tubahumurize, but many have not been active members recently. It seems it is quite an honour to pay visits to these women in their own homes, as many of them took the day off so they would be there for our fifteen minute visit. We visited six homes in all.

There are hordes of children everywhere, all of them dusty, barefoot and ragamuffin. All of them with eyes like saucers to see two mzungus (white people) in their midst. A gaggle of children followed us everywhere. The children who go to school are learning English and they love to practice their little phrases like “good morning” and “how are you”. They always giggle when we actually respond! Anyway, the small children not yet in school broke my heart somehow, as they live in a very brown world. I seriously didn’t see a drop of colour down there. And yet, people seem proud of their small homes and possessions.

We went to Nathalie’s home, a woman I have met several times because she is active and attends the workshops. She is clearly poor but well off in comparison to others we met. Shie also HIV positive. She lives with her son David and her brother’s little girl, Solonge, with whom Simone fell in love. I had still a little doll from my bag of toys that I carry around that I was able to give her, which made her super happy. Nathalie showed us pictures of her wedding and it is clear that her life has been on a downward spiral recently.

Next we visited two of the women who make beads and jewelry, Crescence and Margot, in the former's home. I delivered the calendars so many of you helped me gather, for which they seemed very grateful. They were working indoors, with the finished beads on a table, stringing tiny beads onto nylon cord. They work in incredibly dim light, as there is just one small window and even that was half covered. There is no electricity. They both need glasses to do this fine work, as apparently so do all the other women who make beads, but have no money for such luxuries. They sell these beads in the market for a pittance of what people are willing to pay in North America for such painstaking work.

Next we visited Atanasie, a woman who is in truly dire straits. She is battered by her husband, who has left her but returns from time to time to do more damage. He drinks and has infected her with HIV, which has been passed to the children. He comes and takes, but brings nothing. Nice guy, right? She is actually afraid for her life. She has nothing to feed her children. She had a black eye on the day we visited. Her eldest daughter has been rejected by this man because she is a product of a previous marriage, even though the father is dead, murdered during the genocide. He refuses to allow the girl to be in the home. Whenever he appears, the girl runs away. I think the mother is the saddest woman I have ever met. Her eyes are just deep, deep with sorrow and, dare I say, hopelessness.

Simone and I asked Jeanne if we could bring her and her family to Tubahumurize for shelter, as she fears for her life and also that of her daughter. Jeanne said it was impossible as there are too many other women like her who need the same thing. I argued that perhaps it was better to help one rather than none, although I do see the dilemma. Aaron, Jeanne’s husband, who is a pastor and a very nice, gentle man, said perhaps the women themselves should decide, as that way the decision would be very democratic and inclusive. I think that is a great idea and perhaps something to work towards – setting up such a process. On the other hand, what happens after we leave, for example. How long could this place reasonably offer shelter? The long and the short is there is no women’s shelter in all Kigali. To build one is Jeanne’s real dream. There is surely a need.

Next, we visited Jacqueline, who lives in a tiny two room home with nine people – seven children and she and her husband. It is a very crude home and I can’t imagine doing much more in it than sleeping. And even that would be crowded. The amazing thing is she is one of the happier, stronger women, I believe because she is active at the centre and has responded well to the counselling. There is hope in her eyes. Her husband, who had been abusive, contracted HIV, and is now quite docile. He has not infected her and her children are all healthy too. He is willing to wear condoms.

At the home of Yolande, we were invited into a tiny room by her daughter, Leah, who is actually one of the students who is learning sewing. The site visit had been cancelled from Thursday and move to Friday but this message had not been passed on to Yolande. She had missed work the day before to greet us and was unable to take another day off. Thus her daughter missed a day of instruction in order to care for her youngest sister. The family clearly does its best living in such tiny quarters, but I fear it is an uphill battle, with crumbling walls and a dirt floor.

Finally, we visited Febronie, who sells tomatoes in the market. She is full of energy and even joy, even though her life is not easy. She has five children, the four youngest of whom I was able to give a small toy. They seemed quite pleased. I believe Febronie’s life has been vastly improved by a micro-credit loan. It may not show in her immediate surroundings but she has some pride and faith that things are getting better.

I came away somewhat shell-shocked and feeling very blessed. I have seen poverty before, but nothing really like this. And yet, and yet, each family really does its best to keep things clean, to eat, to care for one another, and to have a sense of dignity. I did not see one iota of shame in any of these women for the state of their lives. They have hope that things will get better, and most of them are taking steps to make it so, little by little.

A Day in the Life

There is so much to describe about life here in Kigali. I think perhaps the easiest way to give you an idea of what it is like is to describe an ordinary day here.
The birds, which all have lovely songs that are new to me, are the first noises I hear in the morning. Then roosters start to crow from all directions. The night is still upon us, except for a glimmer of light perhaps only birds can see. My cell phone’s clock says it is about 4 am. I sleep and doze for a few more hours under my bed net on a comfortable double bed. I hear the increasing sounds of traffic as the city wakens and begins its business. I hear the sounds of the young women arriving to begin their day of sewing in the studio behind the main house at 8 am. I think about what the day will bring.

At some point – perhaps the need for coffee or a drink of water, perhaps I hear Jeanne arrive – I decide it is time to get up, usually about 8:30, which, if you know me, is no easy feat. In the bathroom, which I access from my room, I wash, brush my teeth, taking care to use boiled water, take my meds and get dressed. I make my bed, open the curtains and windows, and tie up my bed net into a knot over the bed. I am never this tidy at home! Then I make my way to the kitchen down the hall.

The kitchen is small, with tiny ants, flies and other little bugs all over the place. I am now used to this somehow, and I am okay with it as long as they aren’t near the food we prepare. On one wall, there is a deep, double wide stainless steel sink, with a flat area for drying dishes. Across from this is a three foot high fridge and above it, two cabinets with shelves. They are not used for much except empty paper bags and empty water containers. On the wall between the fridge and sink, a 4 burner gas stoves sits on a table. The stove is attached to a large propane tank on the floor beside the table and fridge. On the other side of the fridge is a toaster oven, which sits on a very low table. If you want to use the toaster oven, you must unplug the fridge. The trick is to remember to plug the fridge back in! On the fourth wall is a cabinet, filled with dishes, cutlery, pots and pans and so on. The top of the cabinet holds bowls of fruit, onions, garlic and lemons. This is also pretty well the only flat surface to cut or mix anything, besides the top of the fridge. Above is a shelf on which rest supplies like coffee, tea, spices, milk powder, honey, sugar, and cans. We use clean dinner plates to cut up what we prepare, which works but dulls the knives very quickly. I hope to soon find a cutting board somewhere. It is ironic, because John raised quite a lot of money for Tubahumurize making gorgeous cutting boards and here there are none. I don’t think it is part of the culture.

Generally, Simon is the kitchen at this hour. He is a charming local boy from a rural area who was hired to do all manner of duties – cleaning dishes, washing floors, preparing meals for the sewing students, and so on. He also runs errands such as just today, I sent him to the store for more powdered milk and matches (needed to light the stove). Sidebar: the matches are made of wax, so lighting them is a trick that involves holding it close to the sulfur point to strike it because it bends easily, and then moving your fingers back very quickly once it is lit. Yesterday, he washed all my clothes (except my underwear) and brought them folded to me at the end of the day. He speaks only Kinyarwanda so communications are difficult. We do a lot of gesturing, but he only needs to be shown once as a rule. And he is learning a bit of English along the way.

For my first task, if Simon has not already done so, I funnel the water into bottles from the large vat of water Simon boiled the night before and put them in the fridge. Next is coffee. I have a small espresso pot so I get that ready, along with a pan of clean water to which I add sugar and milk powder. I make a cup for myself and one for Jeanne. Then Simone and I have some kind of breakfast – perhaps fresh fruit, perhaps eggs that are scrambled, fried or made into an omelet. Perhaps there is bread and we make a bit of toast. These days we are out of butter, and this can only be purchased downtown. We eat at a large table in the main room, which is also the room where the group counseling sessions and workshops are held. We clean up and Simon does the dishes.

After this, we discuss all kinds of things with Jeanne from what is planned for the day to dreams for the future. Also, one or the other of us is often needed to help Jeanne write a letter or email in English. Simone is mostly her private secretary these days. Jeanne’s computer is in her office and her cell phone serves as a modem, through which we access the internet. Unfortunately, this complicates our lives as there is often a bit of a lineup of people to use this computer. It is our main contact with the outside world. We keep the modem stocked with money, using cards that can be bought practically anywhere. Indeed, people approach you in the street to sell them. You scratch off the wax to reveal the code and enter it on the phone to fill up the account with minutes.

These days, when I am not giving a workshop or sitting in on counselling (something I have not done as yet) or assisting with English lessons, I am preparing for another workshop. The one I am working on now is basically women’s reproductive health – puberty to menopause and what comes in between, as well as a bit about child development as most of the women have families. The area where I need to use the internet relates to the women who are HIV positive. I know a bit but need to understand better how this disease affects the way they would ideally behave. I work at a desk in my room on my own laptop, except when I need to access the internet.
Lunch often consists of leftovers, which today is an amazing dish that Simone prepared last night with fish, coconut milk, tomatoes, garlic, onions, ginger and half a habañero. So utterly delicious! Today we will eat this with rice prepared by Jeanne. I plan to look over her shoulder as she makes rice, because my two-to-one rice recipe makes sticky rice and hers is the way rice should be, separate grains. So I will learn. And she will get to taste Simone’s cooking!

[Well it is now tomorrow evening, that is to say Saturday. A whole day has passed. Jeanne loved Simone’s dish and I learned a new way to make rice. And Simone and I found a shop that makes furniture and they will fix up a board that we can use for cutting in the kitchen! We pick it up tomorrow.]

Now I will go back to generalities. On three afternoons a week, there are workshops in English and also a yoga class in the early evening. These were organized and are led by Simone. I assist with the English, and in the yoga class, I am a student. It is amazing how a bit of exercise and stretching makes you feel good! And I adore watching as women master this new language, even in the smallest ways.


Once a month, there is a general meeting held at a church hall down the road apiece. This month’s meeting was today. There was a lot of singing and prayer and a homily by the sewing instructor. This was all in Kinyarwana so I was mostly flirting with a little girl of about two years. All the women today were given a bag of goodies, from articles of clothing to toothbrushes to little bottles of perfume, to pencils and so on. All the things that were donated by so many different people. There is something unsettling for me in giving such small things. Not that I think they aren’t appreciated, but that they are so very little. On the other hand, the women are very appreciative of the fact that so many people know and care about them and live so far away. Happily, I was able to give one of the toys that I had gathered from the Op Shop and from Sophia to the little girl. I am sure it was her very first toy, a small, gray bunny rabbit, something that some other child no longer wanted. I am sure it will be well-loved. A dream would be to be able to put a child’s toy in each of the women’s bags. The pre-school children all seem so under-stimulated.
One of the concrete things to come out of the gathering was the demand for more English classes, which Simone is delighted to insert into the schedule. Another is I put forward was that the women form a choir, led by me (not that I am qualified but hey, who’s checking!) and pretty well all the women in the room raised their hand when Jeanne put out the idea to gauge interest. And they want to sing Canadian songs! Simone and I spent a couple of hours today brainstorming songs that would be fun to harmonize, but we did stray beyond Canadian borders… for sure!

Another interesting thing that happened at the monthly meeting was that Jeanne said I would basically discuss any problems with women who had a health issue. So a gaggle of women followed us back to the centre where I gave out acetaminophen and a lesson on drinking enough water to stay hydrated, and also some back pain meds for a few women with sore backs, but first insisted that they stretch some before I would give it. And to the little 2 year old, I gave a two week supply of vitamins because she has a cough and because her mother took some red pills and she wanted some too.

So the afternoons pass in a variety of ways and then it is time to prepare dinner. That all takes awhile. Simone and I have developed a kind of dance as we work in the tiny kitchen, trying not to bump into each other or infringe on what the other person is doing. Simon is often watching as well so we have to avoid him too. But somehow we get it done and the table set and then we eat and clean up. So far, we are eating very well. The fruit here is fabulous. Fresh pineapple for about $1 and riper than I have ever tasted. Tomatoes and avocadoes and papayas, which are so sweet and delicious… And something that Jeanne calls Japanese plums, which are egg sized and red and full of edible black seeds, the size of a peppercorn perhaps. And so on. What is harder to find are grains in variety. And there is just one bakery that sells brown bread, all the way downtown. Not cheap.

One day soon I will have to get some more Rwandan cash. This is a cash economy and very few places accept Visa. I think I have figured out the currency and am beginning to get a sense of what things cost. I can even bargain a little bit but I also tip, which is not part of the culture… so I guess it all evens out. As an aside, I brought a bunch of US $100 bills. I had been told they should be new, and they were, at least in terms of ones that are more difficult to tamper with. But here, the exchange on bills that are older than 2006 is less than on the newer ones. Not sure what that is about, but I would have to say someone somewhere is pocketing the difference.

Into the evening, Simone and I often play a couple of games of cribbage. We may also do some emailing and writing and reading. Even though night falls quickly, we do have electricity in the house, although the lighting is not that bright. But bright enough to do those things. I am glad I brought a small desk lamp with a halogen bulb so that I can see better and a transformer so it works (thanks Jim). My old eyes don’t really do that well in dim light.

Sidebar: This evening we enjoyed a torrential rain. The heavens opened. The wind blew. Thunder rumbled and cracked. After the deluge, the night air smelled so delicious, free of dust and heat and humidity. It may be the beginning of the small rainy season…

At bedtime, I take a quick shower. And I do mean quick as the water is cold only, from all the taps. It is a bit like diving into a Canadian lake in July, say, and gasping a few times and then saying, well this isn’t so bad really. At least some of us say that. :) Anyway, it feels awfully good to wash off all the sweat and dust of the day. And that is pretty much the end of my day. I open my net and put it around my bed, along with my lamp and a book and bunch of crosswords and sudokus and such. And pretty soon I go to sleep to the soporific sounds of drinkers and loud music from the bar next door. Like a lullaby…

All in all, life here is pretty grand. Murabeho!