Dear reader,
I hope you are still able to recall those occasions when, as
a child in search of permission for some controversial activity, sound strategy
dictated selectively approaching one parent before the other such that the
precedent assent of the more laid-back of the pair would pressure the other to
concede in spite of their better judgment so as not to appear the heartless
disciplinarian. For our EWB team this past week, such youthful exploitations of
adult psychologies proved to be continually applicable life lessons.
Faced with the less than encouraging responses to our
proposals from big poppa EWSA described by previous posts, our adopted Uncle
figure, the Chief Executive Secretary of the Cyanika sector, became a stalwart
proponent of our plan to install rainwater catchment systems as a primary
phase. We suspect his taking up of this position was motivated in equal parts
by a good natured sense of protection as by fear of our abandoning the project
altogether, nonetheless the shift was significant given his initially expressed
predilection towards the pipeline extension. With the Chief’s blessing, our
motherly and nurturing hosts comprising the Community Vision Board received our
bid to implement catchment with much enthusiasm. The Board members were swayed
by the community’s ownership of the water, the immediacy of the solution, and
the entrepreneurial opportunities afforded through accumulated user-fees.
Thundercats are GO!
The sunny reversal of circumstances above was a sign of
things to come; the rest of the perfectly temperate afternoon was spent
following the umudugudu leaders through the stunning Cyanika landscape to
additional potential catchment sites, as was the following morning. Thursday
afternoon, after topographically mapping six sites in rapid succession, we were
gifted with a sight right out of an umuzungu’s African fantasies- the utterly
undeveloped and enigmatic Lake Burera. The nearby cousin to the more widely
renowned Lake Kivu, the terraformed shores of Burera fade into the mist with
equal mystery, yet the crystal clear waters tempt one to dive in without the
omnipresent threat of being permeated by innumerable burrowing, suctioning, and
slithering extremophile parasites mutated by methane into deadly micro-beasts.
The Chief asked what we, as engineers and architects, would do to improve the
place. My suggestion: don’t.
Upon returning to the hotel, thoroughly exhausted and soiled
by long hours of surveying and collecting earth samples, we were surprised by a
phone call received the very instant we’d collapsed into our beds. The Chief
had stopped at our hotel to visit with a few of his superiors, apparently
mentioned our work, and it turned out they wanted to meet us; what better way
to celebrate a successful two weeks of work than getting tipsy with government
officials? I’ll admit I was mildly nervous at first, we were quite beat and
these were the Rwandan equivalents of state senators, but after they ordered us
all a few rounds (each round here consists of two beers, so you can figure the
math) those anxieties evaporated and a boisterous conversation ensued in a
wholly postmodern admixture of French, English, Swahili, Kinyarwanda, and gestures
exaggerated by inebriation. Topics ranged from the acceptable number of
children in a family:
Rwandan Officials “Ten or eleven is just
more fun, if you don’t like some of ‘em there
are always others to visit! You can have your own football
team!”
EWB Team “Are
you kidding me? How can you remember all their names?”
To national gun control policies:
Rwandan Officials “Teenagers can buy
guns? Isn’t that dangerous?”
EWB Team “Uhh…. yeah”
It also merits mentioning the openness with which our
Rwandan counterparts were willing to discuss their nation’s history, including
the darker periods we are all too familiar with. Between the forces of colonial
guilt, the NAACP, and the separation of Church and State in the U.S., we often
refuse to deliberate provocative subjects rather than expose them to public
consideration though most of us recognize repression often results in the
minimally concealed festering of open wounds, merely delaying violent repercussions.
The present success of the reconciliation of Rwandan ethnic groups based upon candidness
and public accountability is a powerful testament to the merits of
transparency.
We rounded out the evening with a hearty dinner at our
favorite local Italian joint, Alberto’s. In case we hadn’t butchered enough
languages yet that evening, we instigated a conversation in Spanish with a
Belgian engineer who currently lives in Guadalajara, Mexico and has been in
Musanze for nearly two years on a job assignment. I took it upon myself to
explain that some claim Colorado as the world’s new Belgium of beer. He was not
pleased, but took the news in stride.
May your hearts and glasses always be full,
Michael Salka
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