Thoughts on Rwanda

Hey so it has been a few months since I got back from Rwanda, and some of you guys have yet to hear anything about it or how it changed me. I don’t really know how to articulate how incredible my experience was or how blessed I was by it or how it changed my view of God, life, my future, and people. Here is what I know.

I have a problem. 20 incredible boys have stolen my heart. Before I left for Rwanda an incredibly wise woman gave me some advice, and I think this is the only advice anyone gave me before I left. She said to me in the middle of the shampoo aisle at Walmart: “Guard your heart”. 

Haha whoops. Honestly, I tried, but it didn’t work out the way I was intending it to. The first few weeks of my internship I tried my best not to get too attached to anyone or to allow anyone to get too close to me, but I quickly realized that wasn’t going to work. God did not call me to guard my heart. God called me to love the people he created with every fiber of my being, so that’s what I did. 

From Left to Right: Veterne, Me, Daniel, Simeon, Gustave

Now I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t stop thinking about Pacificue and his incredible smile that reaches from the bottom of his chin to the top of his forehead despite the situation he finds himself in of being rejected and abandoned by his relatives, and the way he would happily skip from place to place and giggle in excitement at every little thing. Now I can’t stop thinking about D’amour who was raised in a child run household, and the way he always found a way to make me laugh even when I was on the verge of tears, and how he took the time to get to know me and tried to teach me Kinyrwanda, and became one of my best friends while I was there. Now I can’t stop thinking about Veterne and how sweet and patient he is despite his polio. Now I can’t stop thinking of David and his incredible voice and pray that someday he will become the famous singer he has dreamed of being and was created to be. I can’t stop thinking of Paul and how he is the same age as me, and how hard he studies and how much he appreciates his education, because without it he would have no hope of a good life, when me and my friends constantly complain about homework and classes and don’t realize how blessed we are to have an education. I can’t stop thinking of Daniel and his servant’s heart and the way he shyly followed me around, longing for attention and giggling in delight every time I acknowledged him, and his leadership among the little boys. I can’t stop thinking about mischievous Little Man and how he was my little shadow, whose cry I would wake up to every morning, and the way he would talk to me all day long in Kinyrwanda thinking I could understand, and how he would frequently ask “urashaka guchina” (Do you want to play?), and how he always managed to get himself into some kind of trouble. I will never cease to be amazed how he could imitate anything I said in English perfectly, even if he didn’t know what I was saying. I am so glad they found his grandmother and he is happily living under her care. I can’t stop thinking about Claude and the look on his face when he gave me the picture he drew of me or the excitement he would have when it was time to “study computer”. I can’t stop thinking about Baby who tried so hard to be cool and the time when we went to the market together and he was so protective of me, and adamantly insisted on carrying my bulging bag of vegetables the entire walk back, or the way he cried when he gave devotions that one Saturday. I can’t stop thinking about Berco, the jokster of the group and the way he would laugh at everyone and everything and the way he would show off and then joke about how strong he was and how I should hire him to be my body guard. I can’t stop thinking about Twizeremana and Mwizergwa and how they would whisper about me in Kinyrwanda as if I could understand what they were saying. I can’t stop thinking about Jdhudi and how he would curiously and sneakily touch my hair frequently as he sat near me, or the time when he had me read the entire first grade Kinyrwanda reader to him as he patiently pointed to each word and taught me all the Kinyrwanda sounds and gently corrected my pronunciation.  I can’t stop thinking about tiny Papi and how he would sit so close to me as I wrote in my journal on my computer outside or the way he would watch me through the window when I was in the office or peak around the corner shyly when I was in the kitchen. I can’t stop thinking about Patrick and the fear in his eyes when I talked to him about reintegration and having him move back in with his parents. I can’t stop thinking about Simeon and the way he tried so hard and worked so hard at school and how much he loved trying to imitate my funny faces while we took pictures together or how shocked he was when I helped him clean up the floor after lunch one day. I can’t stop thinking about little Patrick and how tough he tried to be when inside his heart was breaking for his dying mother. I can’t stop thinking about sweet little Eric and how he cared so much for everyone always making sure everyone was included and happy and ok. I can’t stop thinking about Gustave and Jackie and how they left everything including behind to raise and nurture and teach twenty growing boys and how they use the money they earn to pay for their siblings to go to school. I can’t stop thinking about the incredible conversations I had with Gustave and how much he taught me, or how he always managed to find something to tease me about, especially when we were teaching the older boys, and how much he loved talking in and learning English, and how he was such a good sport with all the things I made him do for my English classes such as playing with playdough, pretending to be a dr, drawing a picture of his dream house and explain it, or how he would mock me in a high pitched voice when I said “ I do not speak Kinyrwanda and I do not know what you are saying, please speak English”. I learned so much from each of my boys.

I can’t stop thinking about how everyday these boys would thank God that they were alive. Every day they would thank God for giving them food, because they know what it is like to go without food. Every day they would thank God for his blessings, even though it looked to me like these boys didn’t have anything to thank God for. After every time someone shared a praise they would all either bang loudly on the tables or wave their hands in the air to show God their appreciation. I will never forget the nights when I sat in on their devotions as Gustave translated it for me.

All these boys and all their hearts are incredible, yet they have no hope except in Christ. They have no future except in Christ. They have no identity in their culture, except in Christ. These boys are the lowest of the low, rejected by family and society, living on the streets with no job, no food, no home, no money, no friends, nothing except Christ. Yet those boys are so full of hope and joy and patience and love and peace and grace and courage and faith. And it’s all because of Christ.

Goofing off with my boys

Now. Now I can’t stop thinking about them and their lives and their past and their present and their future. Now I wonder what will happen to them if the government decides to shut down the home I worked. Now I wonder if they will ever get the chance they deserve. Now I wonder who is going to take care of them and love them and tell them about Jesus. Now I wonder why I can’t be there with them and play with them and teach them and laugh with them every day. Now I wonder why I have to finish school in this overly obsessed, disgusting materialistic culture while they are blessed to go to school and appreciate and notice all of their blessings in life. Now I wonder why I am so jealous of their lifestyle when I have everything I want and need and they don’t even have safe drinking water. Now I wonder why I was happier living with them even though it made me sick, then in the states where I am drowning in things I don’t need. Now I pray for them every day. Now I thank God for everything he taught me through them. Now I pray that God would take care of them and bless them and give them a future. Now I pray that they will know and grow and love Him more than ever. Now I pray that as they grow up and are integrated back into their village they share their knowledge of God not only with their mouths but through the way they live their lives. Now I pray that God would use the lowest of society to bring about a revival in Rwanda. Now I pray that those boys would change their country and lead it to Christ. Now I pray that God would use each and every boy to further his Kingdom in incredible ways. Now I know that these boys have so much potential and I can’t wait to see how God is going to use them to do incredible things for his glory. Now I pray daily for my boys and wish I could be there with them, but I know that God has a reason for bringing me back to the States for a time. Now I just want to back to Africa.