Rwanda July 2007
Victoria
I am a domestic disaster.
She cooks three meals a day. She cleans and does laundry. No stove--ladies and gentlemen--she makes omelets and crepes on hot coals. Her name is Victoria, and she is the cook at our house in Butare. She is always creatively slicing the avocados, or making flowers out of the tomatoes, or cutting the papaya in the shape of a fish, complete with carved scales.
Last month, Victoria came into the kitchen in the morning, and said in French, “The whole world speaks English, and I learned French. I want you to teach me English.” So for a while, I practiced my French, and she practiced her English. We hit a minor setback when I discovered that in fact, she doesn’t quite speak French either. So for the last month, I have been the master of charades, and have redecorated the house with labels, including the butter and jelly jars. I managed to track down a list with some phrases in Kinyarwanda and English. When I went outside to go to work, it was such a treat to see Victoria in the sun practicing the word “Wednesday.”
We have had some victories to celebrate along the way. A few weeks ago, she wrote the entire grocery list in English. Last week, she said, “ I need money for the Market. I go to the Market this afternoon.” A few days ago, she asked when I was leaving Rwanda. Then she said, “You are American. I am Rwandaise.”
This was particularly encouraging, not only because she is making great progress in English, but because it also represents the progress of the country. Before, people would say I am Hutu. I am Tutsi. But now, there is only Rwandaise—yet another sign of the hope and healing that is happening here.
Matthew
Pants or no pants? That is the question.
The night guardian at our house is named Matthew. He lives in a small room attached to the bright blue gate that surrounds our house.
Every time we are greeted by Matthew at the gate after dark, we wager on whether or not he is wearing pants. I would say we get no pants about fifty percent of the time. One hundred percent of the time, we get a huge smile and a handshake, which has become a pleasant constant in our daily routine here. Last night, I offered him half of a cookie I was eating while he was in no pants phase. That was a new experience, giving a cookie to a man with no pants on.
Matthew is a key player in our next-door-choir, literally and figuratively. He plays the keyboard for the girls next door when they sing in the morning and at lunch.
I will admit that we had our doubts about Matthew as a night guardian. He wears no pants. He smiles a lot. He plays the piano. And he is supposed to protect us in the night from doom and destruction?
Yes.
We just found out that Matthew was a child soldier in the Congo for years. He is only 26 now, and would like to go back to finish his secondary school. Knowing what Matthew has experienced, and the horrors he must have seen, gives me a greater appreciation for his infectious smile, though I still can’t figure out the no pants situation…
