Kabera has dedicated a tremendous amount of work to this event that will take place on August 13th at Amahoro Stadium in Remera.  He will introduce President Kagame to 4,000 of AERG’s members and honored guests, and the ceremony will celebrate AERG’s numerous achievements over the past 13 years.

I tell him I am very sad that I will miss the ceremony.

“When you go home, will your friends and family recognize you?” Kabera asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You have gotten so fat since you have been here.  I don’t know if they will recognize you.”

“Fat?  Really?”  Gosh, I knew the french fries were taking their toll, but was it really that bad?  Maybe he was mixing up his words.  Perhaps he meant tan?

“Yes, when you came you were very small,” he gestured towards my arm and formed a tiny circle with his thumb and forefinger.  “Now you have grown very much large.”  He used both hands to form a new circle.  Then he pointed to my stomach.

Well, thanks for clearing that up Kabera.  I pouted.

The waitress brought over our coffee and juice.  “Murakoze,” I said.

“You are also Rwandan now,” he smiled.  “You speak Kinyarwanda and you know our culture.”  Hardly true, but a nice recovery.

“You must have a Rwandan name.  From now on, you will be Kamaliza.  Kamaliza is a very good name; it has two meanings.  First, it means gold, gold that we found in the ocean.  Second, I call you Kamaliza after the very famous soldier and singer, Kamaliza.  She sang during the war and encouraged the soldiers to go on.  Although she died, her music still inspires me.  So, like as you inspire me, you are Kamaliza.”

Ok, that made up for the fat comment.

We finished our drinks and the time came to say our goodbyes.

“Say hi to Obama!” he said.  “And you, say hi to Kagame on the 13th!  Tell him Kamaliza says hello.”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTK3Jnxt3kQ

When I asked if he had political ambitions, Kabera diplomatically skirted around the issue (he would have done great on Meet the Press), but I can only hope that he enters Rwandan politics.  Kabera is a natural born leader, and any organization or country for that matter would be in good hands with him at the helm.

H/T: Katelin

www.youtube.com/watch?v=etkkOCoJ9wo

www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4KLCCf0yQ0

Albert Gasake, the coordinator of DUHARANIREKUBAHO, shares the story of his family during the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, and how his past motivates him to rise above and give back today.

DUHARANIREICUBAHO's Executive Committee

DUHARANIREKUBAHO's Executive Committee

DUHARANIREKUBAHO, meaning “Fight for Survival,” is an organization founded by and for orphans of the 1994 genocide.  Founded by Albert, who is now the coordinator, and his colleagues in 2004, DUHARANIREKUBAHO has over 245 members throughout the country focusing on using skills and income generating projects to “take back their lives.”

Siraar and Denise

Siraar and Denise

The mission of the organization is three-fold: to provide a network for orphans of the genocide so that they can help one another overcome trauma and other difficulties; to remember the genocide through yearly commemoration activities and prevent future atrocities; and to assist members in building their skills and generating income.

To get to DUHARANIREKUBAHO’s small one-room office, Albert and Patrick (a member that joined the meeting) took me through La Planete Cyber Cafe which I later learned is a buisiness of DUHARANIREKUBAHO, run by its members, to generate income.  In addition to La Planete, DUHARANIREKUBAHO also has agriculture projects and a bee-keeping/honey making business to benefit its members.

Albert and Patrick in front of La Planete Cyber Cafe

Albert and Patrick in front of La Planete Cyber Cafe

La Planete Cyber Cafe

La Planete Cyber Cafe

Albert and Patrick led me into the office where Fiacre, the vice coordinator; Denise, the secretary; Siraar, the auditor; and Dominique, the production manager; patiently waited for our meeting.  The group introduced themselves and were eager to hear more about my work with Survivor Corps and tell me about the structure and projects of their organization.

Patrick took an album off the shelf and gave me a photo-history of DUHARANIREKUBAHO’s growth.  The images captured commemoration activities, events with trauma counselors – DUHARANIREKUBAHO works with ARCT-Ruhuka to provide counseling to their members – as well as sports and other fun competitions.

Albert loves him some Obama

Albert loves him some Obama

After our meeting, I had a chance to do a few interviews which I will post here as I edit them.  I also gave Albert a very quick tutorial on blogging after he gushed about how much he liked my blog.

Albert and me

Albert and me

I couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome from Albert and DUHARANIREKUBAHO.  It was exciting to learn about the great work they are doing and to see how the members are helping one another to “rise above and give back.”

In our past meetings, I had given Mussolini a hard time for being late, but yesterday, he arrived before I did.  “Being on time is very important,” he told me.  I blushed.

We walked up the ramp to Bourbon Coffee.  “How was your weekend?” I inquired.

“It was not good.  My leg is hurting.  It is never good when my leg hurts.  They will have to cut it more.”

As we sat in the coffee shop, Mussolini proudly showed me a document Francis and he had put together which clearly describes ALSAR’s mission, activities, and plan of action.  They had not had a lot of time to work on the web site yet, but wanted to make sure they had planned out exactly what they wanted the site to convey first.

We went over the techniques for updating and editing content, and I gave them suggestions on how to design their pages.  I began feeling a bit disappointed that we had not accomplished more.  I think Mussolini sensed this.

“You have made us go boom!” These words were somewhat disconcerting coming from Mussolini, a landmine survivor.

I think he saw my hesitation.  “I mean, you have helped us to explode.”

Hmmm… not much better.

“Your help, on our web site, will help ALSAR grow.  We will be able to do much more with the tools you have given us.”

Ok, I’ll take that.  But the truth is that Mussolini and Francis have given themselves the tools.  I taught them how to work with a google site, but they have overcome their injuries, faced their facts, and have chosen to live.  Although he spends many days in pain, Mussolini is determined to see ALSAR succeed.  He wants to ensure that he helps those who are going through the same mental and physical pains.  He may have lost his leg, but his spirit remains, and it is this strength and determination that will enable him and his organization to grow and succeed.

Candice, Sarina, Lisa

You can really never have enough of ENOUGH.  So, I was delighted when my former ENOUGH colleagues, Candice and Sarina, arrived in Kigali for a few days before taking off for the DRC.  We were supposed to go with Bryan to Jinja, Uganda for some serious “wild on the Nile” rafting, but due to time constraints and a few rescinded car offers, we had to alter our plans (as some might say, TIA!), but we managed to have a fantastic time.

Giraffe

On Friday, we took off bright and early with our driver, Emmay, for Akagera National Game Park in eastern Rwanda.  Led through the park by our guide, Diana, we saw everything there was to see (minus the elephants).  Giraffes, and zebras, and hippos, oh my!  Oh, and some crocodiles, impalas, monkeys, baboons, topis, waterbuck antelopes, reedback antelopes, and bushback antelopes.  Not bad for a day’s work.  We finished off the day with a relaxing meal at Heaven; and it really was heavenly.

Giraffe and Zebra

Saturday did not go exactly as planned.  I learned late Friday night that the next day was Umuganda (“contribution”) – a mandatory morning of service that occurs every last Saturday of the month in Rwanda – and buses, motos, and taxis do not run as everyone must participate in Umuganda.  I called Sarina and Candice to inform them that our trip to Kibuye would be slightly delayed.

I went for a walk during Umuganda and found myself quite unnerved by the absence of people and traffic on the streets.  The few cars that passed by were immediately pulled over by the police, ticketed, and forced to remain parked until Umuganda ended.  During Umuganda, everyone – from the President to government officials to those living in small villages – is supposed to particpate in projects such as cleaning the roads, doing upkeep on public property, or clearing grass around the roadways.  I have read that it is also a time for the public to speak with government officials on a casual basis, but I have not figured out how often this really happens.

Anyway, around noon, our bus finally left for Kibuye, and took us on a most nauseating and uncomfortable ride.  Squished into a tiny matatu for three hours that raced down tightly winding mountain bends was a recipe for disaster.  Within three hours, we had two pukers.  The driver was kind enough to slightly decrease the speed with each round of vomit.

Stepping off the bus, we were able to recover quicker than expected as we were surrounded by beautiful views of Lake Kivu.  Shortly after checking into Hotel St. Jean and enjoying a Primus on the hotel balcony, we were greeted by my first Rwandan rain storm (or rain for that matter) since I arrived in June.  We waited out the storm over dinner at Hotel Bethanie.  And then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Four hours later, our food arrived, we gobbled down our “sizzlers” and pasta, and headed back to the hotel.

View from the balcony of Hotel St. Jean in Kibuye

Sunday morning was overcast, but by 11am the sun was coming out and we headed out on a boat ride to Amahoro (“peace”) Island.  The ride was a good chance for Candice to confront her fears after a treacherous ride on Lake Kivu during her last visit to Congo, and a perfect opportunity for us to soak in the gorgeous views.  The island was stunning and I only wish we had had more time.  But alas, our nauseating ride back to Kigali called… and that was one ride we didn’t want to do at night.

Candice at Amahoro

When we returned to Kigali, I said goodbye to Candice and Sarina as they headed off to the DRC today.  Be sure to check out some of the awesome work they are doing with their “Raise Hope for Congo” campaign.

I can’t seem to load up my photos, but you can see all of our adventures in Akagera here, and photos from Kibuye here.

Goma, however, was another world.  On Sunday morning, we – Bryan, Laura, my house mate Parker, and I – crossed over the border into the Congo.  The city – if you can really call it that – is covered in dried lava, litter, United Nations vehicles, and poverty.  As we walked through the town, we quickly learned that there was not much to see or do other than avoid being attacked by the guy following us carrying a large rock (he threw the rock at passing UN trucks, but each time retrieved it and continued his stalking of the four muzungus).

Goma

Goma

Soccer Game in Goma

Soccer Game in Goma

I have done policy and advocacy work for the DRC, studied its history and current events in grad school, and have always wanted to visit.  But, perhaps I had not given enough thought to the widespread poverty and the deteriorating security situation.  It wasn’t until I returned that I got an email from Walter, the AP fellow living in Uvira, who told me that “visiting Goma would not be a good idea, especially since there are civilian massacres going on up there.”  Our short time in Goma was not only scary, but depressing.  As Goma is only one small town in a massive country experiencing these symptoms throughout, is there any hope for recovery?

Goma's Beach Front Properties

Goma's Beach Front Properties

There are some organizations doing great work in and on the DRC.  Women for Women, which I visited in Rwanda, is also in Congo (which is where I sponsor a sister).  My old organization, ENOUGH, has a bunch of interesting advocacy campaigns going on (and I have been hanging out with the coordinators of the Congo campaign this weekend, learning more about what they are doing).  I will continue to support these efforts, and I know that they are making a difference, but walking through the wasteland of Goma and seeing its children with the bad fortune of simply being born there, left me feeling quite hopeless.

Children in Goma

Children in Goma