Broken

I have been in Rwanda now for only two days though it feels like it has been weeks. There is much to take in as we undergo orientation for the first week to prepare us for the work ahead. Having been to Africa before it is a task for me not to simply presume that it will be the same here as elsewhere. Rwanda has a unique people, history, culture, language and nuance that no other country has. I am hoping to gain a fuller knowledge of what it means to be Rwandan in my time here. Not only that but Tearfund is a unique organisation, again having done work with other organisations that are similar it is important for me not to assume that it will be in any way similar to work here.

First impressions:

The instant I stepped off the plane the all too familiar  smell of a warm humid country hit me. It was a much needed welcome and put a big smile on my face straight away. As we waited for our baggage from an old and sorry looking conveyer belt I couldn't help myself letting slip ... 'TIA'. It wasn't long (by African standards) before we were on a delightfully cramped bus on the way to the guest house.

In the first few days we have settled in to the relatively comfortable accommodation (running water and consistent  electricity). I am also making friends with the Uk and Rwandan volunteers alike, it is such a privilege to get to meet people like this and serve together with a common goal. I also found a gecko in my room on the first night but I am holding out for seeing a Chameleon because apparently they are relatively common here and I've never seen one in the wild so that is one to hope for...

I have also managed to get a sim with some data on it enabling me to update you all! :) We have also done a tiny bit of language learning and other standard orientation type briefings around security, cultural sensitivity etc.

Today we had our somewhat ruthless baptism into Rwandan culture with a visit to a genocide memorial centre. The history of the atrocities is gruellingly detailed, with the assistance of artefacts, photos and video. It is certainly not an experience for the faint of heart as you pass through a room filled with pictures of victims. As harrowing as the experience might be of walking around such a place it barely scratches the surface of what it must have been to see around 1/7 of the population of your country massacred in just one year. There is just no escaping the fact that this has shaped every person in this country and everyone who is 20 or older lived through it themselves and would have been witness to the most heinous of crimes. The centre that we went to is the burial place of some 250000 genocide victims, under 1/4 of the total.

This is still a very broken country with the sheer number of people who are still struggling to process all that they have seen and that has happened to them. Leaving the memorial centre the question that I was left with was how?

How can anyone be turned to such extreme action against their own people?

How can a person who has seen such horrors ever find healing?

How can Rwanda recover?

How can I even begin to help?

These are questions that may or may not ever be answered but I believe they are still important to ask and mull over.

So while the work that I will be doing day to day may not directly relate to this, it is absolutely the background of every national that I will be working alongside and for and therefore must be taken into consideration in all that we do here.

Cider

There are a few avenues that can be used to justify the brewing of cider... The fact that the colleges alcohol ban has just been lifted, I come from the west country so it's almost mandatory, we were given a crate of pairs for free or the fact that brewing alcohol has been a tradition within Christian institutes  for centuries. But the fact that it is just an interesting/amusing thing to do was probably a more significant factor in this evenings activities.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to conceptualise, plan and execute the production of cider. From the discovery that a crate of pears was up for grabs to sealed jars of pear juice waiting to ferment was no more than an hour. Tidy work for a Wednesday evening.

While making cider is an art form; developed, tweaked and perfected by professionals (monks) over the years it is actually very simple to make a plain old brew. With a 5 minute google search it is easy to find a recipe that involves less than 3 ingredients (results may vary)

Of course when a whole crate of fruit presents itself, it comes with the opportunity to experiment! For the first batch we decided to go purist - no added yeast, nothing fancy just pear juice and touch of sugar... okay a fist full of sugar.

Things seemed to go our way, we happened upon an old juicer (it required a thorough cleaning) which saved us the curfuffle of pressing the pears by hand. In hindsight it would have probably been a pretty spectacular fail if we hadn't found the juicer.

Juicing pretty much anything tends to leave one in possession of rather a lot of pulp, we have thought about it a bit and a few ideas have been banded about including pear flavored home made sausages, pear jam, pear cake?! Anyway if you have a good idea for what to do with it and better still if you can provide proper instructions/ recipe then maybe we will make it ... maybe.

Until then David is going to have to figure out a green solution for disposing of it.

This is the slightly disgusting-looking result of 'juicing' the pairs... then just to sieve and store it

In other news our South African got bored of waiting and raided our warm dry cupboard full of meat ... the results were rather enjoyable...

So now you can know that the instructions in my previous post do actually result in delicious biltong. We now have room to experiment with some more exotic recipes.

Title font used: 'Lost Highway' 

Biltong

My time in South Africa gave me a taste for a number of different things but among the most treasured flavours lies biltong. South Africa is famed for its love of red meat (something that I get along with just fine) and it is therefore unsurprising that they have managed to produce some of the more creative ways of preparing it. At its invention biltong was purely a practical solution to the problem of storing meat for long periods of time without the ability to freeze it. What it has now become is something of an art form of infusing meat with the richest and most mouth watering flavours. 

For this reason when a friend at college asked me if I would be interested in constructing a 'biltong box' it didn't really require much deliberation. (Yes he is a South African)

While meat in the UK is still WAY more expensive than it is in SA it is still significantly cheaper to make your own biltong than it is to buy it from a south African food dealer - plus it is a lot more fun.

So before term started we decided to get the real work out of the way first and construct ourselves a biltong box and put it to use. As I type 2kgs of beef is gently marinating in the fridge patiently waiting to get strung up and dried out. 

Making biltong is actually very easy and taking inspiration from another friend who likes to blog about her recipes I though I would give you a little run down of how to produce this legendary snack ...

Constructing the box:

• a cardboard box
• some doweling
• some form of hook (we are using paperclips) 
• a fan
• a dry, well ventilated room
• some duct tape (endlessly useful)

The idea is to construct a small structure that allows you to hang pieces of meat that will be able to dangle freely without being contaminated with bugs, dust or any other less tasty substance.

We simply poked doweling through both sides of the cardboard box and taped up all the joins to make it more stable.

Cutting a hole that the fan will blow through to circulate air

Preparing the meat:

Beef is a pretty safe bet and you should probably stick to that, get as much or as little as you want but it is likely that whatever amount you buy you will later regret not getting more.

• Salt (really quite a lot but it depends on the amount of meat you have)
• Spices - this is where it gets fun because you can really do whatever you want, whatever you think will taste good as a marinade then you can use that. A fairly safe bet is to go for black pepper, whole coriander and chili powder but many will also add vinegar sugar and a whole host of other ingredients.

First cut your meat into ribbons, the size will probably depend to the size of your box but a decent steak thickness should be about right. Place the meat into a tray for marinating. Rub the salt evenly into the meat, now take your various spices and rub them in too.
If you do use black pepper it is best to get the actual seeds and crush them with a pestle and mortar rather than using a pepper mill as this will be too fine, the same goes for the whole coriander.

Put the tray into a fridge (cling film it unless you want your fridge to stink of meat) and leave it there for a day or two. Now take it out and hang it in your box and leave it to dry for between 5-10 days depending on how dry you want it.

You can also simply search for others biltong recipes to find one that takes your fancy more than this one - there are a whole host of them out there.



Title font used: 'Ultimate Midnight'

Contrast

Shot up buildings next to brand new builds is a common sight here and is representative of the place as a whole - full of stark contrasts.

Remnants of war torn buildings are common place

If you like gritty urban grunge, contradictory messages, or just plain old interesting-face portraits, you can have a photographic field day and I am still loving it here!

The oldest Church in town with the youngest and largest mosque right behind it

In the week that I have been here I have tried to dig as much as I can to get a grasp of different elements of the culture. I feel like I am beginning to understand some of the nuances (by which I mean contradictions) that still make absolutely no sense at all.

Delicious local food being prepared (no its not pizza)

Image culture: This place takes the notion of 'first impressions matter' to a whole new level. Fitted clothing, overly groomed hair, flashy watches and smart shoes, all with designer labels, seem to be essential for young people. Not to mention the surprisingly high number of pristine Porches, Ferraris and Mercedes cruising the pothole-ridden roads. Here, image is everything. The level of respect that you command is pretty much entirely down to the way you look. It is not uncommon when meeting someone for them to look you in the eye, then down at your shoes, then across to your wrist, before talking to you in whatever way they see fit. To me this is usually in broken English trying to sell me something.

An old house which has actually been converted into a boutique cosmetic surgery complete with valet parking

At the same time this is also very much a relationship culture: 'It's not what you know it’s who you know.'  It takes time to build relationships with people that are anything more than surface level. But once trust is built you’re in possession of one of the most valuable commodities; everything becomes cheaper, faster and easier when you have 'wasta' with the people you are dealing with.

Very strong, very nice coffee

Mix all this in with an honour-shame culture and you have something that is comparable to driving here; a culture that is fantastically exciting, confusing and dangerous all at the same time. Don't ask me what the cultural equivalent of crashing would be, suffice to say that I don't think I've done it yet... That or I did it on arrival and have since died and gone to cultural heaven?

In case you were wandering this is an 'interesting-face portrait' ... taken in landscape

Well, seeing as this post is very quickly headed to a realm of incomprehensibility I think it's time to wrap things up and oh yes, maybe actually mention some of the things I have done ...

• Conducted my first interview and written my first story from it (yay!)
•  Been published
• Blown a chunk of my spending money on an amazing photo book
• Served some field workers by painting their apartment
• Made some new friends (unfortunately not locals but friends all the same)
• Been on an enjoyable and informative 4 hour walking tour of the city with my new found friends
• Visited a convent
• Watched the sun set every night
• Learned to play a new board game
• Taken a bunch more photos
• Gotten a hair cut (kind of a big deal here with the whole image culture thing)
• Tried local food (its delicious)
• Learned how to say 'How are you?' and to respond appropriately in Arabic
•  Met more field workers and heard snippets and tasters of great stories that I am hoping to hear in all their glory over the coming weeks

Title font used: 'Scorched Earth'

Arrival

Welcome to the Near East! After a few flights and rather a lot of queuing (which contrary to popular opinion Brits do not enjoy any more than any other nationality) I arrived last night to this beautiful land, something I have been anticipating for nearly a year and I am finally here! In less than 24 hrs I have already been a bit blown away with culture shock... I was greeted by a sea of head-scarves shouting very loudly in the baggage hall. The ride to the apartment where I am staying was also a bit of an adventure with no street lighting combined with the sport of dodging pot holes in the road. The driver told me that having lived here 6 years he's learned the basic rule of the road is not to 'mind the gap' but to fill the gap, which explained three lanes of traffic on a two lane carriageway.

Queuing to change planes in Turkey

Having been given no complimentary food on the flight over (grumpy face) we swung through the golden arches of familiarity enroute and I stuffed my face with delicious greasy junk food. I did actually want to experience the local food but nothing else was open at 10.30pm. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for this later.

Man modifying his boat

The first day was full. I tagged along on a trip attempting to source some local products for a business venture to employ marginalised women to produce local style jewellery that can be exported, thus empowering them as well as raising awareness of the social injustices that they face.

 Local glass/pottery store

An interesting interlude: Despite not being able to speak Arabic I managed to explain to the kind man in the shop that I was not interested in buying any of his bongs and that in fact I do not smoke at all because I like to be able to breathe. At least that's what I tried to communicate... For all I know he could be under the impression that I already own several and occasionally I hot box my room.

Middle eastern smoking devices

After the shopping trip ended we visited a nearby town for the purpose of cultural orientation and as an ease into work. Over the course of the day my supervisor filled in some of the blanks about what my work will look like over the next 6 weeks. It sounds exciting, challenging and fun all at the same time and I am tentatively looking forward to being stretched and comprehensively shoved out of my comfort zone.

Tea -  How did they know?!

There is an eclectic and sometimes incongruous mix of culture in this place. It is not uncommon to see a woman in a black robe and head covering walking down a street that has a 30ft billboard advertising wedding lingerie. I am hoping to come away with a better understanding of how culture and belief interact here and I will go about picking the brains of people who can answer me and observing as much as I can.

Typical building

I am picking up a few bits of Arabic already. I can now recognise the numbers 1-10 written down and can say hello and thank you. The body language is a whole other ball game but it's easier to pick up than words and you can get a surprisingly long way simply with hand motions and head movements.

End of another long day. Watch this space, plenty more to come!

Does this need a caption?

Title font used: 'urban jungle'

Laudium #2

'Please, pray for me. I am addicted to glue, I want to stop and go to rehab but I'm addicted, pray for me!'

She had a glue pot in her hand and her fingers were covered in glue. She stood just below my shoulder height and looked as though she were in her late 40s. She was as thin as a rake and as high as a kite. Her forefinger and thumb were corroded, the skin was black and dead from all the handling of solvents. She was lowly. Let's call her Sally.

We obviously prayed for her with the lady who had called us over in the first place (turns out she was a Christian) Afterwards Sally asked us to come and visit her the following day when she was not high so we arranged a time and took her address.

The following day we discovered that the address was completely wrong and that Sally was fairly well known in the community. The resident at the false address gave us better directions.

Note to self - don't rely on information given by people who are high.

We found her at her place shortly after and she was sober. She was happy to see us and I don't believe she meant to give us an incorrect address. She explained she didn't have any tea so couldn't offer us any but we had bought our own. She got cups from the neighbours as hers were all filled with glue. As she made us tea she explained a bit about her life. She lost her mother at a young age and had a huge amount of hurt in her childhood. She ended up as a prostitute at the age of 17 and from there got hooked on drugs. Later she met her now partner, let's call him Sam. Sam Gave her a house, food, love and drugs. He did not really set her free from prostitution, he just made it exclusive. She explained how he abuses her but she is strong - she fights back. Sam is addicted to Cocaine and he is 49 - a similar age to my own father, a scary thought. Fortunately the drugs usually pacify him more than anything.

After we had been talking with Sally for some time Sam arrived back home. He went straight through the living room where we were talking and into his room. Sally first explained how lucky we were that he did not immediately kick us out and then introduced us and explained what he was doing as he was crushing the cocaine pill into a powder. I sat down next to him and started talking as he smoked. The girls went back into the living room. I sat and talked to him for some 2 hours (we overran the time we were meant to stay quite significantly) he explained that he was a Muslim and believed in the Quran. I questioned about his drug addiction, he knew he was not supposed to be on drugs and that he was meant to be praying 5 times a day but that belief seemingly made no difference at all, his justification was that he was able to hold down a job and afford his drugs and he didn't hurt anyone. I didn't bring up the abuse of his partner.

Sam was quite happy to tell me lots about his beliefs and stories from the Quran. I questioned him on his belief about Jesus. He immediately kicked up a fuss and went on a 20 minute rant about Christians and their beliefs - almost all of which he was mistaken about.

I talked to him about what we actually believe but he was very dismissive and often very rude but I can handle insult if it opens the door for me to share what I know.

The gospel is offensive to some, especially to Muslims when it comes to Jesus being the son of God so I figure if we are unable to receive our fare share of insults how can we expect them to.

Our conversation got quite heated at times (though nothing compared to some of the conversations I have had with my own family about issues that we agree on 99% of the time)  I later realised that Sally had started crying when she heard him shouting because she was afraid of what he would do to me. In the end though he actually invited us back on Friday for dinner - no small deal when it is straight from his pocket and he is not exactly wealthy, Cocaine is pretty expensive.

In the time that I had been talking to Sam one of Sallys friends had popped in and the 2 girls who I was with talked with her as well. Let's call her Kate. Kate is a Cocaine addict and professes to be a Christian, she is not in as deep as the other two - she holds down a job and doesn't need to smoke every day but she is still trapped.

That Friday during the day one of our team members met Sally in the street. She was covered in glue and was very high - she explained that they had no electricity in the house and that we could not come. We decided to learn from the first lesson and ignore the retraction of the invite - we did not expect to get fed but we needed to show that God loves this lady - especially when she makes mistakes.

We went and on the way to her place we Found Sally in the street sniffing glue. She invited us back to hers - the lights were on and Sam was in and so was Kate. Sam greeted us with a smile but was clearly not happy that we were there. He went to the kitchen to continue smoking and we sat in their room with Kate and Sally. We prayed for them and as we did so they wept, we were tearing up as well but had to remain strong while there. They knew that they had to leave it behind and they want to make God everything - even more than drugs in their life - but it is not an easy decision to make. Sally explained how she was not going to take glue that day but someone on the street had just handed it to her. She was completely sober by this point, we told them that they need to get out. They need to leave this place and these people if they are going to give up their addiction but it is not easy to tell someone that they need to leave the people they love in order to stop taking the drug they are addicted to but they knew that it was true, they knew that what they were doing was killing themselves. Sally said 'I want to follow God but I know when I take drugs I let the devil inside.' They told stories of some of the dreams that they have and it was nothing short of terrifying. We sang some worship songs together that they knew from childhood. When we were done Sally was smiling, 'I feel hope' she said. She had a sparkle in her eye that was not there before.

The next time we saw Sally was the following Tuesday, 4 days later, it was our last day and we wanted to say goodbye and pray with her one last time. She was alone in her house again and sober. We asked how she had been and she explained that after we left on Friday she Sam and Kate had smoked solidly for3 days until Monday afternoon and she now had severe chest pain because of all the glue. We asked her to be honest, not to tell us what we wanted to hear but to tell the truth - was she ready to leave drugs, was she sincere about quitting and following God whole heartedly. There was a local pastor who ran a rehab but he would not take on any patients unless they were very serious and committed to quitting. Her response was heart breaking. She simply said 'I don't know, I am weak' I am glad that she gave an honest answer though. We prayed again with her and asked her to pray. She said I don't know what I would say. We said she needs to tell God everything, all the things that hurt, explain the reason why she started drugs, talk about everything that hurts that she wants God to heal. She prayed and just thanked God that he loves her - that she saw in us. It was strange to see someone so ready to pour out her heart and past and hurt onto complete strangers but unwilling to address that hurt before God. Actually I think we all do that and it is a real battle to take those things before God despite the fact that we  know that he already knows what we would say. There is that knowledge that we have to admit our problems to ourselves before we tell God about them and we know that God won't just sit on that information. He will do something about it. He will begin to heal but that is a sometimes a long and very painful process but it is worth it.

We are all addicts to sin - we need to admit that before God or we will never be free.  Only once we have admitted that can God begin to address the reason that we are addicts and heal us of the sickness that all mankind shares.

Title font used: 'Alhambra'

Laudium #1

I have spent the last 2 weeks in a township called Laudium. Created in the 60s under apartheid for 'non whites'. This results in a very concentrated population of Indians who are now 3rd or 4th generation South Africans yet somehow have maintained their Indian accent and to some extent their culture.

A Minaret

This was a world faiths outreach - the purpose being to gain a greater understanding of the other main world religions. Laudium is around 60% Muslim 30% Hindu and 5% Christian. This outreach put a face on those numbers.

The cleaning area in the Mosque

On the first day we visited a Mosque and a Hindu temple for exposure. It was a very interesting insight into a different world. The Mosque was clearly very well funded and our tour guide was very friendly and allowed us to take pictures. Dream.

The 99 names of Allah

The Hindu temple was quite different - it was dilapidated and the stench of incense was almost overwhelming. The thing that stood out the most though is that the people who ran the temple were more than happy to give 2 completely contradictory answers to the same question asked by 2 different people just 5 minutes apart. In my limited experience this pretty much sums up Hinduism.

The Tamil Hindu temple

For our duration in Laudium we were reaching out into an area called white blocks. It is the poorest area in the town yet is a stone's throw from the houses of millionaires. It was quite surreal everyday to walk past a mansion with a Porsche Cayenne in the drive and 5 minutes later be in someone's house who didn't even have a handle on the door let alone a lock because they have nothing worth stealing.

The prayer price list

Laudium and specifically White Blocks is renowned for being gripped by drugs, any substance you want you can get it there and where there are drugs there is crime. Most of the people we talked to in the 2 weeks made some mention of the murder of a 16 year old boy the previous month in the streets that we were walking on, though the way it was talked about was common place. We visited one house and asked the 18 yr old there whether he felt safe in Laudium. He said 'No' and pointed to the bullet hole in his wall - it was at head height.  He explained how thankful he was that he was not in the house at the time and his plans to leave Laudium as soon as he could.

A Hindu shrine in a house

The police seem powerless to do anything about this, We were talking to one Muslim lady who runs a tuck shop with her husband from their house. We were asking them about how their beliefs affect their lifestyle and how they find living in an area like White blocks. She said that they loved it and would never go anywhere else because they have a strong community. In the hour and a half or so that we were talking I counted at least 5 different people who walked into the courtyard and bought drugs off of the ladies family members. The tuck shop was across the road from the police station.

On another occasion we were talking with some guys by the side of the road about crime, the local area, police etc and a policeman drove past. The man we were talking to flagged him down, he clearly knew the officer. He asked him a question  'A personal question: A good cop is a dead cop. True or false?'

The cop laughed. 'No, no some times in order to catch the criminals you first have to make friends with them.' He smiled and then explained that he really needed to change out of his uniform before talking any more.

Policing will never change the hearts of men, Only Jesus can do that.

Title font used: 'Alhambra'