Muraho, Jacqueline here!
(This blog post was originally written on Saturday, July 23. Due to lack of internet connection it has been uploaded a day late.)
Rwanda is a beautiful country. The mountains are striking, the soil rich, the plants lucious and abundant, the weather pleasant, and the people generous and accommodating. The streets are filled with bicycles carrying impossibly large loads of bamboo, jerry cans, and sometimes friends on the back. Women in bright colors and vibrant patterns expertly balance containers on their heads. Motorcycles skillfuly weave through the busy streets, their red helmets standing out against the crowd. Even now, sitting on Jean's porch I hear children playing, sheep and goats braying, diesel engines chugging along, and the distant hum of drums, singing, and lively conversation. I absolutely love it here.
On Thursday we got our first real experience of the Rwandan landscape as we drove around to learn about all of the previous systems. We got to meet many community members and experience first hand the projects which we had only seen in photos. At Kibaya, the village Chief came out to greet us with his family. Jean informed us that per custom, as long as the Chief's wife was home, we would not be able to leave without seeing inside the house. When we entered the building and sat down, we were surprised by heaping dishes of halved potatoes and beans. We ate with our hands, peeling the potatoes as we went. Just when I thought I couldn't eat any more, the Chief's wife came back out with freshly cooked maize. We learned that these three foods are traditionally eaten at harvest festivals in the first week of August, but that we got to celebrate early. It was an awesome experience.
On our way back we passed by one of the government run taps, where dozens of children were lined up with their jerry cans. Jean explained that the kids wait for hours at a time, often missing school, for water that can run as expensive as $20 a jug, and comes out at random unscheduled times. We got out of the car for a closer look, per the kids requests. We introduced ourselves, gave some highfives and fist bumps, and shared some giggles. When we left they chased after our car.
Yesterday, we visited Janja for the first time, where construction of our eighth (!) rainwater catchement system was already underway. We took in the breathtaking mountain views as we made the ~2 hr drive over curvy mountain passes and bumpy dirt roads. Jean pointed out the river where the village residents must trek to get their water. The path was narrow and steep, and I had trouble conceiving how someone would be able to traverse it with full jerrycans. About 20 minutes of driving later, we arrived, as close as the road would allow, to the build site. We were greeted by shy but happy village residents filling woven plastic sacs with loads of sand for the concrete mixture. We grabbed some ourselves, hoisted them onto our shoulders, and followed the volunteer workers down the steep dirt steps. We were not nearly as adept or sure-footed in navigating the rocky terrain as them.
We dumped our bags, made introductions, and learned about the construction process and design choices for the system (embedded concrete floor supports, concrete columns instead of brick, linear alignment of the 5th tank, additional support beams, etc). The path back up to grab more sand definintely made me notice the altitude, after having been near sea level all summer. After a few more trips, we were guided to a barrel to wash our hands, and then to a small shaded room in the house adjacent to the site. There Hassan prepared some sugar cane for us with a machete. It was sweet and cool, and a welcome after running up and down the hill.
When it was time to leave, Roger got carried up to the car in a traditional nest typically used for married couples and the very sick. It was a sight to see, and entertained the village kids. We returned to Jean's house for beer, crispy chicken, tangy carrots and onions, and freshly made chips (fries). When the sun started to set, we finally got to try the famed Musanze local banana beer. It was 14% alchol, and as Jean says "it makes you want to dance". He taught us a drinking song to go with it:
In Heaven there is no beer
that's why you are drinking here
And when you're no longer here
Your friends will be drinking your beer
We played a few rounds of Egyptian rat screw, and took an early night. More big things to be done in Janja tomorrow!
-Jacqueline
