Rwanda: Jean D'Arc, Evas

A day off. The women outside their rooms scrub and soak their clothes in bright colored plastic bins. It is exotic. And the air smells great. It’s Sunday and the commemoration of the end of the genocide 15 years ago. We can hear the singing. Mass is crowded with mourning and celebration. The singing is beautiful. We hang our clothes to dry.

In the afternoon, a trip to the market. Another market. It’s Sunday so most of the stalls are closed. There are chickens. Cloth. A whole section of second hand shoes shined and resold. Where do they come from? Jean D’Arc says come with me. She buys me a necklace. She’s quiet and she takes quietly care of everyone.

We’re planning someone’s birthday tonight so a bunch of us go to town with Evas to get the cake. Evas runs the show here. She’s a mid-20s hilarious and grounded woman who manages the day to day of our time in Rwanda. When we are not here, she works for an organization called Stories for Hope – this organization has young people sit down with an older person they respect (parent, grandparent, aunt, etc.) and have them tell them an “impact story” – some story that gives inspiration, guidance, lessons on how to live. The stories are recorded. It’s a way of taking an old tradition of storytelling as a means of transmitting culture and adapting it to contemporary culture – creating a databank of positive stories of life in Rwanda.

Evas takes us to her house. It’s a room an apartment in a larger home where her relatives live. The apartment has a balcony that looks over Kigali as the sun sets into the diesel fumes. Buildings are brief outline in orange light. The broken bottles embedded in the cement walls glisten. The city spreads itself out secret and immense. Inside we eat tangerines and little bananas under pictures of Evas at college graduation. She has been accepted to CalArt’s aesthetics and politics program and is waiting on the funding to see if she will be able to go.

Then we have a somewhat bizarre photo-op with Rwandan generals. It was bizarre and that’s all I’m going to say.

And then as the clock strikes midnight, a very late surprise birthday for a member of our team. Every one is tired in that sentimental way. When you love the moment you have created together as it weighs down on you and insists on slipping from your fingers. You love the room for creating and losing together. You love the birthday candle sparkler for marking the silliness of passing time. You love Evas tugging on your shirt to make sure that all the presents are opened and cake eaten. Speeches scribbled on dinner napkins. Speeches made. Silence. Chocolate. You love sleep for insisting itself when life could just go on and on in utter delight.

There are many official reflections – the evolution of a program over 5 years to include a library, a festival, students from three US schools – Rwanda as a school of peace, as in permission for being – the commitment to return …the commitment to peace...

I am glad I do not have to talk. All I can think is I love these people. I love this place.

Today is made possible by the gracious and generous support of Kathy Babiarz.