Home in Musanze

So, through my time here in Musanze, I have begun to visit out Spark communities in the area. The projects range from building bathhouses, promoting increased cultivation and even piggery. The projects have all been incredibly remote, but this week began our process of conducting follow-up surveys on past projects, so we returned to Nyabageni. Nyabageni was my first site visit upon arriving into Musanze and while we heard rumors of rain problems for their potato harvest, it wasn’t until we were sitting down conducting surveys that we realized just how bad it had been. The lush green surroundings and active children seemed to hide the levels of hunger that pervaded the community. Nostalgia tends to make the past look rosier, but it seemed the heavy rains (and lack thereof) had resulted in a poor potato harvest. The community had profited off some of its first harvests, but clearly had run into trouble in this past season. It was really almost confusing to see how complimentary they were of what had been done, but to see the results of this early project seem to be in a tough place. I think like any development project, there are always some tough spots, but if you work through them, there is a lot to be learned.

Opposites attract, but they also help us to remember how to differentiate between extremes and navigate a middle ground. Without imperfections, you wouldn’t know what perfect looks like, without sadness, you would forget that smiles mean joy and even the most prevalent of these opposites, without being hungry you would never feel fullness and be truly satisfied. This community knows both, and while they are far from markets, the days they travel to market they can find themselves full at the end of the day. Now this is not to say these individuals are not hungry- they are. This is more to say that the consciousness of the difference makes the difference all that more acute.

After an exhausting afternoon, with perhaps a little too much sun, the sun began to sink and it was time for us to get back to our motos before it was too dark to drive back ‘safely’. The motos had waited for us in a small town nearby, but of course were antsy to get back to the city where they could gain fairs doing short trips around Kinigi (the closest place a car can get to). After everyone making back to the Kinigi taxi park, we hopped on the next matatu to Musanze. This is where we met a new friend! Another muzngu hopped into the van just outside Kinigi in front of a school for the deaf. It’s always interesting to hear how and why people end up where they do, but that comes later over dinner rather than while squished in the matatu just trying to get out at the right place!

While the rest of the week revolved around data entry, there were a few moments on Friday where Dennis and I just wandered around Musanze. After finding we had missed the first bus to Kampala (at o dark thirty am), we went to our regular coffee shop where we are becoming valued customers I would guess. I am pretty certain we are the only muzngus ever eating there, but it has tasty food and pretty good prices (and a lovely outdoor patio). The one problem with an outdoor area is that you are completely accessible to anyone outside. Beggars of all shapes and sizes (from small kids to elderly women) can put in their two cents on your meal, their hunger, etc. There is nothing like someone begging to make one completely lose their appetite, but then it gets worse. When that happens, you end-up leaving a half-eaten plate of food to either reward the action or rub-in your own lack of hunger, neither of, which feel particularly nice. We have seen a consistent stream (probably every other time we eat there) of individuals, but this week one of the men who works in the store took the child by the wrist (hard enough that the kid cried out) and dragged him back out to the street. I was part honored to be respected as a customer, and part terrified for the child. I want children to learn not to beg, but sometimes you do just need help, and so severe punishment seems entirely uncalled for. While this is clearly an issue the developing world has to consistently grapple with, it is hard. I want to tell people they must work, or have a job to find money from me, and yet rarely would any of those items actually be something I paid for.

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Feeling a little under the weather with this event, I decided rather than go straight home after purchasing my ticket to Kampala it was time to explore the markets in Musanze- and not just to buy pineapples or mangoes. Markets are a fascinating compilation of people from all across walks of life. From those with successful businesses to those just trying to sell another tart orange to feed their family more nutritious foods it can bring peoples stories to life. The markets are also so full of color. Red tomatoes green and yellow bananas, orange and brown pineapples, purple eggplants, and a plethora of spice packets in varying sizes and colors. This is met with silvery fish, bright plastic baskets and plates, woven ride baskets larger than my duffel bag for the next three months and more. From peas and miniature garlic to entire plantain bunches, the sizes contrast so distinctly you can’t help taking notice! Then, as if there isn’t enough color accounted for in the food, add in the clothing, the fabrics, the kitchen wares, breads, and beauty supplies. The dresses of the sellers and buyers alike looked fabulous. 

Some women carry babies strapped to their backs, while others carry jerrycans and baskets-they show so much strength. Women are taught to be strong and selfless early on. From their requirements within families to the expectations that they complete school work and an extremely large number of chores these girls are built to be tough. They carry around their siblings as soon as a kid in the US would be carrying around a baby doll. I hope that the strength, savvy, and intelligence of these women will be recognized in their homes and transform their lives. So much in Rwanda’s healing process since 1994 has involved community women banding together to move forward. They’re one of the most critical success stories, and seem to be teaching their children as well. Healing takes time, but the more one seeks, the more they find success.