A Thursday evening in June

 

Outside the hospital a bonfire burns,

Three marquees stand proud and white,

The grass they enclose a village green.

Is it a celebration, a wedding perhaps?

 

Suddenly music; the songs of consequence

Echo across the surrounding valleys.

And then there is no mistaking it.

 

Portentous rhythms and tales of “jenoside”

Purple banners and ribbons attached to fresh pressed suits

A photocopied invitation hand delivered post haste.

From four o’clock; All to attend; A memorial.

 

Rwandans love speeches and ceremony.

The honoured guests: A bishop and

The former health minister

Widowered here seventeen years ago;

I can live without this honour.

 

Murmured greeting and apologies,

Words defeated, we take our seats.

Five o’clock is past, the day darkens,

And the burning stands against a leaden sky.

 

Kinyarwanda remains tantalisingly impenetrable,

Frustrating yet blessing with each passing testimony.

“Those men” “A little girl” “Just here”

Picked like low hanging fruit

From these recollects of woe

 

“Do you have your parents?”

A common and tactful greeting here,

Prior to further enquiry.

 

An old woman hobbles to centre stage

Perched, cradling a microphone against the darkness.

Her tale; she is alone. The account of her pain

Can only alienate and condemn.

 

And yet not: a nun rises,

Moves her plastic garden chair

Into the grassy emptiness

And sits, by the attestor’s shoulder.

 

No word is said, no touch is felt,

But love and God sit quietly,

Awaiting the final victory.

 

TDW 26/6/2011

William’s 3rd Birthday

William slept in and woke to excitedly open his birthday presents, which he found on the coffee table.

 

Thankyou Helen for the Colin Buchanan DVD.Will was glued to it twice back-to-back after breakfast! Thankyou Nanna and Grandpa for the stickers: they are a big hit! William proudly sported a gorilla on his hand all day.

This past week a tree house for the kids has been underway, in time for Will’s birthday. Thankyou so much Tom and Margaret Pamflett for this generous gift to settle the children into their new home! And thankyou also to Simon for his help with building it. They LOVE it.

Simon and his kids Rowan and Senna came over mid morning to celebrate Will’s birthday. The kids watched some Mister Maker (thankyou Mum – Will and the kids have enjoyed it a lot already!) and then followed one of his ideas by making a wriggly worm in a box. It worked pretty well.

The kids had a picnic lunch up on deck. It now has a rope climbing frame, saucepan lid steering wheel and flag in Will’s favourite colour. Lunch was a feast of Will’s favourite food (mostly): chips, soup, pancakes and cake. Emovine put a lot of effort into a very nice birthday cake, even coming in on one of her days off to bake it. It was delicious.

We tried some fancy local candles that seem like mini fireworks! Very theatrical. Will was impressed. In the afternoon the other kids went home, despite Will deciding they could sleep here from now on.

I overheard William saying, ‘Yeah, let’s go and do it. Because it’s my birthday!” It was the first year he really got into the whole birthday thing. According to him, it was a great day. And that’s what counts.

Happy birthday William.

Church musings

It’s really struck me how much more Rwandan Christians rely on God than Australians do, and how much more thankful they are for what they have.

A good example of this attitude is the favourite of the ‘modern’ songs sung at the English service at the Anglican cathedral, “Open up the Sky”.

It’s chorus is:

Open up the sky, fall down like fire

We don’t want blessings, we want you

Open up the gates, fall down like fire

We don’t want anything but you

Now, it’s one thing to sing that when you’re comfortably ensconced in your home church, with your car outside and a large house full of food waiting for your return for Sunday lunch. It’s quite another when you’re a student living hand to mouth, who has just had your monthly allowance for food withdrawn by the government, whose family has no means to support you and who sleeps two to a bed in a college dormitory.

Yet this song is consistently the most fervently sung of any in our services. It goes off. Always. Not musically but spiritually.

And maybe in a way, this is economy of the Gospel. It’s only when we are truly vulnerable, when we realise how little power we have over own own destiny, that we can fully surrender our priorities, cares and concerns to God, and instead desire only Him.

It always deeply moves and challenges me to hear my Christian brothers and sisters, who I know are so materially poor, ask God for His presence and not for their material needs.

As Matthew 5:3, the first of the Beatitudes, is rendered in the Message:

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope.

With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

 

Something to think about. It’s challenging me.

A typical weekday

0600 Kids wake up and pile into bed with us

0615 Out of bed, shave, and make breakfast for family and Nepo, our gardener who arrives for work at 7. Help plan his work day.

0730 Morning medical meeting where new cases are presented and discussed

0830 Ward Round of cases causing problems for postgraduates in medical wards

1000 Endoscopy – usually 4-5 gastroscopies, mostly with duodenal ulcers

1200 Home for lunch, cooked by Emovine our house help. Usually 5-10 people for lunch (4 of us, 2 staff and 1-4 visitors)

1400 Back to hospital for teaching – alternates between Interns and Trainee Physicians, mostly focussed around improving their clinical skills

1630 Head home for a bit of play time with the kids after teaching, usually after consulting on any patient issues in wards

1800 Dinner time, often leftovers or a simple meal (scones, pancakes etc)

1900 Start bathtime and bedtime routine for kids

2000 Fidel, our language tutor arrives for an hour’s Kinya study

2100 Check email, admin, letter etc Pack for next day. Reading.

2200 Bed

 

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

What’s in a name? In the West, most names have lost their meaning. You can look up the meaning of your name on a database or in a book, and discover that in some foreign place long ago, your name did have a literal meaning. Catherine, it so happens, means ‘pure’.

In Rwanda, people have a literal name. Their Kinyarwanda name might be the word for ‘Light’, ‘God Loves’, or ‘Kindness’. It is chosen by the father, according to how he feels at the time, and formally given in a village ceremony when the baby is several months old. Of course, if your father is feeling vengeful or angry your name can be ‘Hate’, ‘Anger’ or ‘Sadness’. Or even ‘Hutu’ or ‘Tutsi’. As a child called ‘Hate’ grows up, she has to wear the expectations and burden that it brings. People expect such a child to be full of hate. Tim has watched the Rwandan hospital staff process the name of each patient on the ward round and react accordingly; with laughter, surprise or warmth.

The Rwandan government decided this tradition had contributed to Rwanda’s division and needed amending. They now encourage people to give their children affirming, community-building names. For a time, they made it easy for anyone who did not like their name to change it, so that those named ‘Hutu’ or ‘Tutsi’, for example, no longer need bear the burden of such a divisive name. These days fathers usually choose positive names.

We discovered all this because we have been invited to our first naming ceremony! Tonight, the leader of our ‘village’ (the hospital community living here in several rows of houses side by side) and another lady neighbour came to have tea and invite us. We will all go to Dr Pierrot’s house on Sunday evening with gifts and to share a meal. The parents will sit and watch as the children eat some food (that traditionally some of the baby’s poo has been mixed into – thankfully no longer common practice!). This food is supposed to inspire the children as they take turns approaching the baby to guess his name. Then last of all the father approaches the baby, stating his actual name. (These days the baby has been called by this for months already, but at this moment he is formally named.)

Sounds like fun!

I love the mix of farce and formality in Rwandan ceremonies.