a simple prayer

I think many of you have heard stories about my super sweet and special student this year, Kang-Hee, from Korea. At the beginning of the year, Kang-Hee wouldn't talk, except to himself, as he played with the flags that he drew from all over the world. Kang-Hee is fascinated with flags and other countries, and knows more about this world that I do! It took him a long time to warm up to all of us, almost as if he were testing the waters to see if he would be accepted, because for so long, he hasn't been.

And he was. We all embraced him this year and yes, there are challenging days, but the blessings by far outweigh the challenges. He has taught us to laugh more and think "outside the box." :) He has taught us all about China and the Middle East, and every war that has ever been fought. He has taught my students about differences and loving people in spite of their differences and unique qualities. His prayers have humbled me and astounded me, and brought us to tears as well. At the beginning of the year, Kang-Hee refused to pray as well. He said he hated God because God made his eyes hurt, and he didn't have any desire to talk to this God. But throughout the year, Kang-Hee has learned so much in Bible, and he has even asked questions and now, he's the first one to pray. He prays for all the countries that are in any kind of conflict. He prays for everyone; he prays for people that we even forget we were praying for. He remembers them all. His English still isn't great, but he can pray continously until you tell him, ok, Kang-Hee, let's let someone else pray. It's beautiful.

But even now, he's very open with all of us in his class, but is very shy in public. However, last week, for Easter chapel, as I stood in front of the entire elementary to close us in prayer at the end, Kang-Hee ran up beside me and tugged at my pants and said, "Teacher, teacher, Miss Griggs, I pray." He was so eager. There was a split second where I thought, should I really let him pray? There's no telling what he might say! :) And this is in front of the ENTIRE elementary. OK, what should I do? So I just smiled and said, ok everyone, Kang-Hee is delivering our prayer. Please bow your heads and close your eyes. And what came next was a simple, but precious reminder of how great our Father is. He spoke boldly and perfectly and said, "Dear God, thank you for chapel. Thank you for Friday for the death on the cross. Thank you for cross on Friday so we go to heaven. Thank you for coming alive again. Love you Jesus. Amen." Then, ALL the kids started cheering and clapping up a storm for him. It might have seemed like such a simple moment for an outsider, but for all of us...Kang-Hee's family...it was incredible. My headmaster leaned over and whispered, "They really love him don't they?" All the teachers had tears in our eyes.

This young boy has blessed us so much this year through his joy, his outlook on life, and in his weaknesses and struggles as well. I know the Holy Spirit is alive at KICS. He's alive and working! After the chapel service, I emailed Kang-Hee's parents who are traveling in the U.S. right now to raise funds for Food for the Hungry. And I want to share his dad's response with you after he heard Kang-Hee had prayed that prayer, and even in public...

Hi, Ms. Griggs



Praise the Lord!


This is something unbelievable!!!!


I know he knows the story of Jesus, but I didn’t expect he confess his belief through his mouth.


If it is true his faith, I do not have any concern about his future anymore…


Thank you very much for this good news!!!

With many blessings,


Kang Hee’s dad.


He is ALIVE and working here at KICS, in so many childrens' lives and their parents too! Thank you all for praying for this young man. He's a true joy in my life! :)

Garden

Heard this beautiful Need To Breathe song this week...perfect one to celebrate our Risen Lord!

Listen to it here: http://www.needtobreathe.net/music/garden/

Won't you take this cup from me


Cause fear has stolen all my sleep
If tomorrow means my death
I pray you'll save their souls with it


Let the songs I sing
Bring joy to you
Let the words I say profess my love
Let the notes I choose
Be your favorite tune
Father let my heart be after you


In this hour of doubt I see
But who I am is not just me
So give me strength to die myself
So love can live to tell the tale


Let the songs I sing
Bring joy to you
Let the words I say profess my love
Let the notes I choose
Be your favorite tune
Father let my heart be after you


Father let my heart be...
For you

Mystery

I love a good mystery book or movie. I like the suspense involved, and the anticipation, and the challenge of waiting for the outcome. I like the hope I have in the ending, the optimism, and the eagerness that keeps me reading or watching.

I love how Jesus Christ is mysterious too.  Lately, I've been experiencing His mysterious nature in many ways. I love when you KNOW He is working, and you can see His plan take shape in someone's life, or your own life. I love those "Ah-ha!" moments when you've been praying about something, and then all of a sudden, you realize what God is doing here. You have that moment where it all comes together, and you KNOW how well He knows you and understands you. (Of course He does...He created us!) I like the excitement of Christ, and the mystery that He brings each of us. He is alive, and He is working, and I am awestruck each day when He allows me glimpses and hints of His great plan!

Jesus Christ was a mystery. He is a mystery. His grace is a mystery. Our faith is a mystery too. I believe the greatest mystery is wrapped up in this Easter weekend. The greatest mystery is that God became one of us. Christ appeared in flesh. He was born in a lowly manger, the feeding trough of animals; born the son of a carpenter. He became like us to teach us, to show us, and to give His life for us. In Colossians, Paul calls Jesus, "the mystery of God...in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."

I'm reading a great book now, simply called, "Story," by Steven James. James is a professional storyteller, and this book takes you on a journey through the mystery of our faith, from Creation to the Resurrection. His poetry and imagery is inspiring, and I can't wait to finish up with the Resurrection this weekend. James describes Jesus as a "holy conundrum, a living enigma, a mystery." Think about it. Jesus was born helpless and yet almighty, temporal and yet eternal, human and yet divine. He was "wildly meek, quietly loud, furiously patient, humbly proud." Jesus brought "peace and the sword...clarity and confusion....judgment and pardon." Mystery.

And to add to His mystery was the fact that He was perfectly normal-looking. He didn't stand out in a crowd. Even Judas had to point him out to the soldiers so they could identify Him. He was forgettable, yet He was also the most memorable and influential man in the history of the world! Jesus spoke is riddles, yet He had authority. He was both audacious and humble, both soft-spoken and fiery, full of both sorrow and joy. No one has ever been meeker. And no one has ever been bolder. He is mystery.

To enter into the story of Easter this weekend, you first must know the mystery of Christ. The idea that God loves enough to die for us is a complete mystery. James calls it preposterous! Unbelievable! There are many religions that offer love, but it's only Jesus who offers love and redemption by pouring out His blood as a sacrifice for us. His death is a mystery. But thankfully, that's not the end of the story. He is ALIVE!

Mystery. God doesn't require us to memorize a ton of Scripture, or debate doctrine, or live by a list of religious rules. Instead, He sent us a Son to love, and told us to love each other too. Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly with our Lord. (Micah 6:8) He sent us TRUTH. Truth hidden in mystery, and mystery hidden in truth. Embrace the mystery that is Jesus. The mystery of grace, of redemption. The mystery of the cross.

"Within the mystery of Jesus, all that is foolish teaches all that is wise, all that is weak conquers all that is strong, and death itself is swallowed up by life. Here truth and mystery stand side by side and immerse hungry souls in their sea." ~Steven James

Once Again

Once again I look upon the cross where you died.

I'm humbled by your mercy and I'm broken inside.

And once again I thank you, once again I pour out my life.

Jesus Christ, I think upon your sacrifice.

You became nothing, poured out to death.

Many times, I've wondered at your gift of life,

and I'm in that place once again.

And once again I look upon the cross where you died.

I'm humbled by your mercy and I'm broken inside.

Once again I thank you, once again I pour out my life.

Now you are, exalted to the highest place.

King of the heavens, where one day I'll bow.

But for now, I marvel at your saving grace.

And I'm full of praise once again.

I'm full of praise once again.

And once again I look upon the cross where you died.

I'm humbled by your mercy and I'm broken inside.

Once again I thank you, once again I pour out my life.

Thank you for the cross, thank you for the cross.

Thank you for the cross, my friend.

Thank you for the cross, thank you for the cross.

Thank you for the cross, my friend.

Once again I look upon the cross where you died.

I'm humbled by your mercy and I'm broken inside.

Once again I thank you, once again I pour out my life.

Once again I thank you!

Jesus Christ, I think upon your sacrifice.

Sipi Falls...and home again!

Note: This is the last and the longest installment of Ethan's Adventures. I hope you've enjoyed! :-)

It took about 4 hours to reach Mbale, and then we had a decision to make. It was already dark. Should we risk it in a new town in the dark, and try to find a taxi straight up the mountain, on the dirt roads, to the tiny village of Sipi Falls? Or should we find some food, and cheap accomodation there in Mbale, and get a ride up the mountain in the morning, when it's brighter and safer? And of course we chose to take the riskier route and make it up to Moses' campsite, on the edge of the cliff in Sipi. It took some fierce negotiating and many walk-aways, until we found a taxi driver willing to take us up the mountain in the dark for a good rate....or so we thought.

It was well past dark now, and we had been in his car for a few minutes, before he stops and picks up two other local guys trying to find their way up the mountain too. They didn't know that I understood Swahili, and he was telling them that they could pay a super cheap rate because he was gonna jack up the price for Ethan and I. Not cool. I played it cool for a while, and didn't let on that I understood everything he was plotting. Then I informed Ethan of the deal they had just struck, and then about 10 minutes later we stopped for petrol. The driver was being very rude and argumentative and kept asking me for some of the money. Even though I usually never offer money for transportation until the ride is complete, I offered a little bit up front, to help with gas, because to be honest, we were tired, hungry, and just wanted to get to Sipi as fast as we could...and I was tired of arguing with this man. But then he refused, and demanded much more money and tried to lock us in his car. Again, not cool. Then I broke out my Swahili, and I argued back best I could for a good 20 minutes in broken Swahili-English, and then I realized that he was NOT backing down, and he was about to just leave us on the side of this road, in the dark, in this random village.

So I said some prayers under my breath, and tried to think quickly. I was still trying to calm this driver down, negotiate once again, and just get to our destination. But finally, Ethan and I made a smart decision when we just said we HAVE to get out of this car now...and we'll just have FAITH that we'll be safe, because there's no way we wanna go anywhere with this wacky guy now, even if it's a free ride. We were starting to think he was a bit nuts and/or had been drinking, because it was not the typical negotiating-for-a-ride story. I'm usually cool when these different, unexpected situations arise, but this time I have to admit, I was starting to become afraid. I told Ethan to just pray, and I was praying under my breath. Finally I decided we had to get out, but the doors wouldn't open. Then I looked out the window and saw this one man....a tall, big man with glasses, and he was wearing an American flag hat. I just yelled out the window, "Sir, can you help us? We need help. This man is crazy." And immediately he came over to the car, opened the doors and let us out. And then, in perfect English, he just let the driver have it. The driver got out and other men who were on the street came to see what all the commotion with the mzungus was all about. And then, for 30 minutes, the driver tried to tell his story, and our new friend scolded him for being manipulative and trying to cheat us/rob us, and then all the other men started scolding him too. Eventually he left.

Finally we got to talk to this guy who helped us. His name was Daniel. He was Ugandan, and his mom lived in the village where we were heading. He had just come to visit for the holidays. He had lived in Florida, and even went to law school in Chicago....just like our dad! Me and Ethan just looked at each other and smiled. We had called on our Father, and in the middle of nowhere, he sent us a "father" on earth to help us just when we needed one. A father to stick up for us, defend us, and send the bad man on his way. :) It was such a reminder that our Father knows ALL our needs, and is looking out for us. We were in a situation where we needed a daddy, and our Dad provided. Anyway, one of the guys on the street offered to drive us the rest of the way up the mountain in his brother's car. So we finally made it to Moses' camp at 10:00, still hungry, tired, and hadn't eaten since breakfast. Of course, there was no food when we got there. But Moses had stayed up to welcome us to his camp, and was even on the roadside to greet us. He went to get our key to our banda, and before he could give it to us, he accidentally dropped it, and it fell through the cracks in the floor, to the dirt below it. oops! It was the only key he had. 

So, for the next hour we used some wire, string, sticks, and our headlamps to try and rescue the key. We all had a turn trying. Finally, after an hour, he decided to try and dig underneath and make it to the key. I'm sure he dug through mud and cow dung, and worse stuff until he made it to where Ethan was shining the light. Finally, we had a key. By this time it was close to midnight.

When we finally made it to our hut, I pulled out the half of apple I had saved that was smooshed down in my pack, and the week old piece of bread that was crunched up. And of course, our jar of peanut butter. There was no water or electricity in our hut, as was the case with most places we stayed. So that was our midnight meal. :) But we were just so thankful to actually be there and safely too!

The outside of our hut at Moses' camp

Inside of our hut

When we stepped out of our hut in the morning, this is what we saw!! A totally breathtaking view of the valley below, from high up on the cliff at Sipi Falls. You could literally see everywhere, in all directions. We ate some chapati bread and a boiled egg for breakfast, and set off for Lacam Lodge to see if we could get a hut there for the night, and find a guide for the waterfall hike. Sipi Falls is actually three waterfalls very close together, but spread out around the valley. We were able to do a 4 hour hike, stopping at each of the falls.

Our guide, Alex.

This was my favorite one. We could have swam in the bottom, but it was starting to rain and we were getting cold!

We stopped at one of the swimming holes, and played with the kids. They loved Ethan's camera. I always love the simplicity of African toys. A stick and a tire, and it's entertainment for all! No need for batteries or a Playstation.

The hike was pretty strenuous, but awesome! We had to climb up and down this ladder to get to one of the falls.

Nearing the end of the hike

The huts in the top right-hand corner were Lacam Lodge, our home for the next night. Again, no water or electricity, and it was absolutely WONDERFUL! We had delicious food here, and the best views ever. Ethan took advantage of the opportunity to go rappeling down this waterfall with our guide! Crazy! They hiked over there early afternoon, harnessed into the top, and rappelled down the entire waterfall, then hiked back out. I was trying to watch for him, and had the camera ready, but then I fell asleep, and missed him! I was so bummed! But below is a picture of the top of the waterfall, where he hooked in! Amazing!

We ate all our meals on the porch.

Inside our hut at Lacam

Getting ready to leave. :(

African transportation always makes for the best adventure stories, but for this trip to Sipi, we had already had our full share! But wait, there was more. We wanted to leave our hut as early as possible after breakfast, because we knew we would have to hitch a ride down the mountain. Of course that was the morning that breakfast took over an hour. :) We packed our stuff and waited out on the roadside with one of the guides. He kept assuring us for a half hour that in no time we would see a car. No car. No matatu. Full matatu. Still no car. Finally a car came by...but didn't stop. We waited on the side of the road for almost an hour, before this broken-down white little car stopped. Dang it. It was a car that could only seat 5, and it already had 6 in it. No fear. This is Africa, and they know how to pack vehicles. So we crammed in with all our stuff, the 6 others, and some chickens in the back. Once we got going down the mountain, we realized that 5 of the boys, (or should I say, men), had JUST FINISHED participating in the morning circumcision ceremonies. (and sadly, there was one female too. The Sabiny tribe near Sipi is one of the only tribes in Uganda that still particpates in female circumcision. They have ceremonies every August and December, in even years only.) And by just finished, I mean, they were dressed all in red (even red skirts), faces still withered in pain, and they looked awfully uncomfortable squooshed in the back....(bless their hearts.) But don't worry, they wouldn't be squooshed for long. Because 10 minutes later, the broken-down car actually DID break down on the side of the mountain road. Everyone got out and we hung around for a few minutes waiting to see what the deal was. The boys men, took off walking to their destination; albeit very slowly. The chickens got out too and wondered what was going on. Ethan and I waited for a little while longer, until a matatu mini-bus came by and we hopped on. Thankfully, this bus took us the rest of the way to the Mbale bus park, where we bought tickets for The Flame! (see above picture.)

Above is a picture of chickens (and some goat) being loaded and unloaded underneath the flame bus! I can say that I will never get used to having live animals riding underneath your feet, on top of the bus, and with your luggage on the rack on any and all African transportation! We stopped multiple times on the way to Kampala to load and unload animals and sacks of potatoes and charcoal. We made the 10:00 bus, and were supposed to arrive in Kampala around 2. We then wanted to hurry and find a bus to take us to Kabale, which would take another 4-5 hours. It was our hope to make it back to Lake Bunyonyi, and spend one more night in paradise! Not happening. We didn't make it back to crowded Kampala until after 4, and we jumped off at an intersection when the bus stopped at a light. Having been in Krazy Kampala before, I knew the way to the "nice" mall, where we would grub and regroup. We walked the couple of miles there, and found a pizza joint inside the mall that advertises for "ice scating," but it's really a sketchy roller rink. Over pizza we decided that there was no way we could make it back to the lake, plus we didn't even think we had enough money! And we couldn't try and make it to Kabale, and then on to Kigali the next morning, because we didn't have enough money for two bus rides, only one.  So it was looking like an overnight bus to Kigali was our only option. I tried to use the ATM, but since ATMs are a new thing in Kigali, and I don't use them there, of course I had forgotten my Pin number. Doh! So then we did a desperate thing, and exchanged all of our $1 and $5 bills into Ugandan shillings, which amounted to like $15. Then, we bought some fruit for our dinner, and made sure we had enough to pay the moto driver to take us to the bus stop. Motos in Uganda are much bigger and more "spacious," but there are no helmets. Ethan and I rode tandem multiple times! Fun! Except when my ponytail whipped Ethan in his face. Whip my hair! After banging on the door at Kampala Coach, (our ride of choice), we were told there were no buses that night. But we HAD to get back home because we had no money to stay the night anywhere! Only enough for our bus ride home. So then I knew we were gonna have to take the "ghetto" buses, and I knew they would be full too. We had our moto stop at multiple bus stations, and I jumped off and ran to ask about tickets for that night, only to be told that the bus was broken down, or the bus was full, or there were no more night buses. Ugh. So we kept trying every little bus stall, until we found one with tickets for that night! Horizon Bus it was. We waited under this tiny hut for a couple hours until the bus finally boarded at 11pm, an hour late. We were smooshed in the very back row, in ONE seat, and no leg room. And to make matters worse, there was a very large Congolese woman sitting next to on top of Ethan, and her armpit was smooshed in his face the entire ride. It took us 3 hours just to even get out of Kampala traffic. There were multiple times during those three hours where Ethan and I contemplated just jumping out of the window on the road, and using a credit card to stay at the Kampala Hilton for the night, but then we realized we didn't even have enough Ugandan shillings to pay a moto to drive us there, ha! So we persevered. We took deep breaths, put our music in, said lots of prayers, and said, we can do this! We slept, (if you can call it that) curled up in a ball, I on Ethan's lap, he on my back. Whenever we hit a bump, our heads would hit the ceiling of the bus. But 12 hours later, we finally made it back to Kigali, and we couldn't have been happier! We were tired and bruised, but we felt like we had conquered the world! I've had some pretty awful African bus stories to tell, but that one took the cake! But we made it together! :) And spent a fun New Years and my birthday in Kigali! I know this won't be the last of adventures with Ethan. :)

Rafting with Ethan

These next two posts are FINALLY the end of blogging about Adventures with Ethan.

Enjoy! We sure did! :-)

After going rhino tracking, we headed back to the Red Chili, and spent the last night hanging out with our safari mates. We enjoyed the Sunday night barbecue, and hearing stories from Joe one last time. :) Monday morning, the bus from Jinja came to pick us up, and we almost missed it because Ethan was trying to order his breakfast and read the newspaper. :) But I ran out after the bus and flagged it down to come back and get us. Then we headed an hour up the road to one of my favorite African towns...Jinja. Jinja is the cool little Asheville-like town, where Lake Victoria merges into the Nile, and you can also find the source of the Nile. I rafted the Nile last year, and didn't want Ethan to miss out on this crazy adventure. We made it to the Nile River Explorers camp, and had breakfast and were debriefed about the river. Then we got our gear and loaded the open-air bus up to the put-in.

We navigated through Class 4 and 5 rapids all afternoon, and were thrilled, but exhausted when we finished. We flipped on three rapids, two of them Class fives! We rafted with a family from New Zealand, but the mom got out after the first rapid and rode the rest of the way in the safety boat. :) After the second flip, we were under the boat, and my helmet came off. When everyone finally popped up, the dad was gasping and screaming because apparently he had leaned over the boat where my helmet was, to try and pull me back in, but when he grabbed hold of the helmet, that's all he got! So he panicked. But I was ok...just floating a little ways down the river. We had a good laugh about it later at the camp. :)

Our rafting buds...the Leckie family from New Zealand. They were great company for two nights at camp!

Happy and tired!

On the river we sliced open a pineapple for lunch, but when we were through, we were treated to an AMAZING barbecue back at camp overlooking Bujagali Falls. It really hit the spot!

We could have stayed in the hostel at camp for free, but Ethan and I decided it would be worth the $7 upgrade so these sweet tents overlooking the falls. This was probably my favorite place that we stayed the entire trip. It reminded me of camping, but in a classy way. Simple, rustic, and wonderful! We hated to leave this place. I could have stayed here forever. But we had more places to see. After a couple nights, we left for the Jinja bus stop, and waited 2+ hours in a crowded matatu to head up to Mbale, and then hitch our way up to Sipi Falls. It was a great experience for Ethan to ride the crazy, crowded matatus, and even better to wait in the hot sun until they fill up. We had to fight off the street peddlars for over an hour, selling everything from cheap perfume to fake Rolexes to cheap Motorolas and maps of Africa. Love the African market! But we were glad to leave too....another 3.5 hour ride up to Mbale!

Talk about a shower with a view!

Sunset over the Nile

Catch up

This week I've been playing catch up. But the only problem is, it's already Friday, and I haven't caught up enough to feel like I'm caught up. Do you ever feel like that? We were out of school this week for our spring break, and also to remember the victims in the genocide 17 years ago. Local Rwandan schools are out the entire month of April. I decided not to travel during this break for a number of reasons, and I was completely looking forward to "catching up" on all the things I had on my To-Do list that I made. :) Last Thursday, I made a To-do list for my Spring Break, and now it's the next Friday, and I've crossed off only about a third of those items.....

And I'm proud of myself! :)

Earlier today I was not proud of myself. I was being typical-overacheiving Emily and I was completely frustrated because the internet wasn't working fast enough (does it ever here?), my passport wasn't ready in time and the Embassy increased the fee, my taxes kept being rejected for what reason I don't know, the internet stopped working altogether, the fare to Puerto Rico (to visit Ellie) just went up by $110, my tea is cold, these beans are dry, my moto driver is actually driving the speed limit when I need him to go super fast....and on and on and on.

Whoa! I had to catch myself! I was agonizing and getting all bent out of shape because of technology and silly time limits, and accreditation reports for school. What are those to our Creator, but mere mundane tasks! And to think, I almost considered skipping out on my kids at the orphanage because the internet wasn't working fast enough. I had to check myself...BIG time!

So I just left everything there, and went to my kids. And I'm sure glad I did. There was a small, really nice matatu bus parked outside on the red dirt road to Mother Teresa's Home of Hope. I had never seen anything parked outside before. When I entered the dusty blue gate, I saw eleven families, many from the States, talking with the nuns and playing with some of the children. Eleven of my kids were being adopted! They were meeting their families for the first time! Little Mario ran towards me like he always does and said, "Umuchichi, umuchici Emily!" Which means, Visitor Emily! :) I saw Sofia and Mario and Justine, and so many others that I've loved on for a year and a half. And they were meeting their forever families for the first time. It was so special. One dad from Oklahoma, asked me if Mario knew any songs in English that they could sing to him on the long plane ride home. So Mario and I busted out "God is so Good" in three languages for them. :) I was so proud to show him off in front of his new parents. It was a special moment. I played with Marico, my sweetheart (his adoptive family hasn't gotten their visas yet), and joined Genina and Felicita in a Rwandan dance. They are trying to teach me! And then I took them all for piggy back rides up and down the play area. And then we laughed, and laughed some more.

Then I left and visited Glory, my new friend from Venezuela, who I'm tutoring in English. Her husband just moved here for business and Glory knows almost no English, and is not a Christian. Her home situation with her husband is less than ideal, and kind of scary, and Glory has also been really sick with malaria and amoebas this week. I don't know much Spanish, so we just sat there and communicated with short phrases and the dictionary, and smiles. Cause everyone smiles in the same language. :)

I ended the day with a nice long run through my favorite village, and an impromptu soccer game with the kids. And at the end of this day, I wasn't frustrated anymore. I wasn't even just OK. I was overflowing with joy! I didn't check anything off my list for that day, but it wasn't time wasted. I left all the technology and paperwork behind, and played with His children. Spent time with His people. I forgot about emails to write, and reports to turn in. I caught my breath. Slowed down....and just showed up!

If you're having one of those less-than productive days, just show up! Show up for people...the people you love. Love them, and know His love for them....and for YOU! You're not gonna find any reports or emails or taxes in Heaven. But you will find people!

Everytime I leave the orphanage, I walk past a beautiful blue and white altar for Mother Teresa, and painted in script on the top, it reads, "Make of your life, something beautiful for Christ."

You can start today!

doughnuts!

It's become my Saturday morning ritual. Wake up, put my running clothes on, stretch, and run 5.5 miles to doughnuts. Then eat doughnuts. :) I know it sounds counter-productive to "run to doughnuts," but I run more for my mental health anyway. Plus, it's like the gold at the end of the rainbow that keeps me truckin' up the Kigali hills. Fresh doughnuts! Chocolate-glazed, cinnamon, vanilla, caramel-glazed! Even better than Krispy Kreme! Really!

Saturday morning doughnuts is just  "side" venture of African Bagel Company, a part of a ministry of Tentmakers of Rwanda, that was started by Robin and Rich Smyth, missionaries from New Hampshire. The Smyths moved to Rwanda six years ago, and have created different "centres" designed to educate and empower women in their community. Their centres specifically target women who are widowed from the genocide, orphaned, or HIV positive, and they teach the women financial planning, career skills and different trades, health and hygeine, nutrition, and English. The women also participate in daily devotions that help unite them, and teach them about living a Godly life. One of these centres is called the Phoenix Home, and was started in 2008 to care for homeless women and children in Kigali.

The African Bagel Company began when Robin was teaching some ladies cooking and nutrition classes, and some ofher ex-patriate friends in Bible Study mentioned that bagels were one of the American foods they missed from home. So Robin began working with the ladies and teaching them to make bagels. It soon spread throughout the international community here, and now the women sell the bagels at schools, churches, and even the Embassy. They are delicious and super-filling too! Now, they've learned how to make plain, wheat, sesame, onion, herb, and my favorite...cinnamon-raisin bagels!

But ABC is way more than just a business venture. It is transforming the lives of the women who are a part of this community, and is about so much more than making some cash and providing ex-pats with a taste of home. These women are learning English, learning how to work together, learning God's Word, sound financial planning, and how to take care of their health and that of their family. Even the cooking process is done with traditional measures such as charcoal, so the women are perfecting a skill set that they can use in their homes.

After realizing the bagels were a big hit, Robin began teaching the women how to prepare doughnuts as well. But the doughnuts are only available on Saturday mornings on a first-come, first-serve basis. That makes me run even faster! :) Now, Robin has also introduced chocolate-chip cookies, flour tortillas, chips, and homemade hummus, salsa, and peanut butter. ABC also provides a place for local artisans to sell their crafts and help generate an income for their families.

I love that the Smyths have taken a creative approach to breaking the cycle of poverty, and helping empower these women. And who doesn't love doughnuts? Saturday morning has become an enjoyable time of gathering, networking, and meeting new people in my community. It's the perfect solution for all. :)

To read more about the Smyth's ministry in Rwanda, visit their website: http://tentmakersofrwanda.com/

I finally made it!

The women busy preparing the doughnuts

Emma (daughter of a KICS teacher) is helping the ladies prepare the sugar ones.

Mmmm....fried food!!

Delicious bagels

Kigali: City of the future

Architect's drawing of the future Kigali (archibaseplanet.com) 

A CNN film crew was here last month, filiming this new snapshot video of Kigali and its growth and future economic plans. It's a great 6 minute snapshot of life in this city, and President Kagame also touches on his reactions to negative press and thoughts about the future.

It just so happens, a few Sundays ago, I was having tea at the featured Bourbon coffee, with Kristin Urquhart, a favorite mom of mine, before we headed to the orphanage. The CNN crew came in and filmed us for a couple minutes while we were in the middle of a pretty serious conversation! They told us to sip our drinks and keep talking and act like they weren't there. Ha! We never thought we'd be featured...until this afternoon when we were told that a friend had watched the video and spotted us. How? I have no clue. Because those 2 minutes of filming were minimized to all of ONE SECOND of face time. :) Literally, Kristin's coffee drink got more video time than we did. :) But still, it's fun to say we made the news! But you have to be looking! :) Freeze the frame at 4:06, and there we are! :)

http://cnn.com/video/?/video/business/2011/04/05/qmb.future.cities.kigali.cnn

17 years

A Hutu man who did not support the genocide had been imprisoned in the concentration camp, starved and attacked with machetes. He managed to survive after he was freed and was placed in the care of the Red Cross, Rwanda, 1994.

Today marks the 17th anniversary of Rwanda's darkest period in history. April 7, 1994, began 3 months of the gravest atrocities that humans could commit against humans, all in the name of political power and ethnic control. Today, Rwanda remembers so that they will never forget. This is a painful time for all Rwandans, as this month brings back to life memories and faces of loved ones, and stories of survival. Everyone has a story. Rwanda will spend this week in mourning and in remembrance, in prayer for their loved ones and for their government, and in hope for continued reconciliation and abounding forgiveness and peace.


In 1994 TIME photographer James Nachtwey witnessed the devastating effects of the Rwandan genocide. On the 17-year anniversary, the photographer looks back on the tragedy.

In his words...



Humans make war, and we make peace. We make love, and we make hatred – hatred and fear. Those two are the killers. Orchestrate hatred and fear, and humans make genocide. European colonialists used fear and hatred to cut an incision deep into Rwanda to divide and conquer. It was never allowed to heal and became the subtext for society long after the white rulers made their exit. In 1994, tribal enmity between Hutus and Tutsis was politically manipulated to a state of critical mass. Between 500,000 and 1 million people were slaughtered in the span of three months using farm implements as weapons. The killing by the Hutu interahamwe was committed face-to-face, neighbor-against-neighbor, and sometimes even brother-against-brother.


The number most often heard is 800,000. It’s a big number no matter what it’s applied to. Trying to imagine 800,000 people with their heads bashed in by rocks and clubs, impaled on spears, hacked to death with hoes and machetes – in just three months – stuns the mind, and we struggle to wring meaning out of words like “biblical” or “apocalyptic.”

Instead of sending more troops to prevent bloodshed as the West had in Bosnia, the United Nations Peacekeeping Force stepped aside. Because of the disastrous military operation in Somalia, our own political leaders made a conscious decision not to use the one word that could even begin to have meaning: genocide. They understood that the obligation to intervene was implicit in the language. As the world turned its back, the genocide happened in front of its eyes. Later, public apologies were made, something rare for politicians, but the gesture did not bring back the life of a single Rwandan.

Later, when the Hutu army and militias fled into Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) to escape the advancing Tutsi forces, more than 1 million people crossed the frontier in a single day. They set up makeshift shelters on rocky, volcanic earth, where it was impossible to find clean water, dig latrines or bury the dead. Within days a cholera epidemic swept through the camps. Tens of thousands died within a few weeks. Mass burials were carried out using bulldozers. Untold numbers of children were orphaned and abandoned. International relief agencies streamed into Goma to try to stem the tide of disease.

Those responsible for the genocide concealed themselves within the mass of civilians inside the camps. Relief organizations were in a dilemma. Because they could not distinguish who was a killer from who was a human shield, they were obliged to treat everyone. Ironically, the international community that had walked away from its responsibilities during the genocide was now forced to come to the rescue of those who had committed the atrocities.


All this happened in the same time frame in which Nelson Mandela became president of South Africa, as if by some infernal metaphysics the best humanity had to offer would be offset by the worst imaginable. It was our world then, and it’s our world now. We have examples from both ends of the spectrum of human aspirations. Will we take heed from the lessons taught by our own history? If we don’t, who will?


James Nachtwey is a TIME contract photographer, documenting wars, conflicts and critical social issues. On his most recent assignment, Nachtwey was one of the first photographers on the ground in northern Japan covering the devastating effects of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Nachtwey was also embedded with a United Stated Medevac unit in southern Afghanistan, published in January 2011.

came across this great editorial in the Boston Globe...

Libya is not ‘another Rwanda’



The disciplined Tutsi rebel force led by Paul Kagame (left) in 1994 in Rwanda differs greatly from the ragtag opposition in Libya today.


Stephen Kinzer / Apr 1, 2011 12:39 AM

ONE OF THE most effective arguments in favor of American intervention in Libya is that it is necessary to prevent “another Rwanda.’’ But the situation in Libya has nothing in common with what happened in Rwanda. Repeat: nothing in common.


The insurgency in Rwanda was an effort by members of an exiled communal group, the Tutsi, to make an “armed return’’ to a country from which the Hutu majority had expelled it. Unlike the ragtag bands of Libyans the West amorphously describes as “rebels,’’ the Tutsi army was one of the most disciplined insurgent forces ever seen in Africa. It had a clear leadership, headed by the visionary Paul Kagame, who today is president of Rwanda.


Kagame was a well-known figure who was in constant contact with United Nations officers and foreign leaders. Many came to admire him, and few feared what might happen in Rwanda if he took power. In Libya, it is impossible to predict what kind of a regime, if any, might emerge to replace the current tyranny. The possibility that Libya will become another Somalia, fragmented among its 140 tribes and a base for crime and terror, is vividly real.


Regimes that seize power by force reflect the insurgencies from which they spring. A strong, unified, and clearly focused rebel movement, like the one that took over Rwanda in 1994, is likely to run that kind of a government. A fractured, leaderless one cannot be expected to do so.


In the months before the Rwandan genocide, and as it was unfolding in the spring of 1994, no one expected or asked the United States to intervene by arming the insurgents or bombing government positions. All that was necessary was for the UN to reinforce its peacekeeping presence on the ground. The UN commander, General Romeo Dallaire, literally drove himself mad with frantic appeals to New York for reinforcements. He believed that just a few thousand peacekeepers could end the killing.


This was because the killing was not, as the West was led to believe, a spontaneous and uncontrollable spasm of “tribal violence,’’ but a calculated effort by a handful of Hutu politicians who saw it as their best hope to keep power. Robust policing by blue-uniformed soldiers would probably have stopped it. Such policing would have no effect in Libya, where there is no UN force on the ground and no one has a clear idea of who the “rebels’’ really are.


When the Rwandan genocide began, the ruling clique had been in power for less than 24 hours — not 42 years, like the current Libyan regime. General Dallaire was undoubtedly correct to believe that it would have been easily intimidated by a show of force. Staring down Moammar Khadafy will not be that easy.


Another key difference between Rwanda and Libya is that Rwanda was a wretchedly poor country with no resources. No one who intervened there could be accused of wanting to loot or pillage. Libya — surprise! — is rich in energy resources the world covets. No big power ever makes policy decisions about the Middle East without considering the oil-and-gas factor. Some, like Britain and the United States, want access to Libya’s resources, while others, like Russia, live off oil and gas exports and support intervention in the hope that it will throw the country into chaos and thereby remove a competitor from the market.


Preventing humanitarian disaster is a praiseworthy goal, but there is every chance that if Libya is engulfed in civil war, more people will suffer and die in coming years than Khadafy would have killed in reasserting control over his country. Nor is it reasonable to believe that if Western power helps install a new Libyan regime, that regime will be pro-Western.


Military interventions always end badly. They may be justified on rare occasions when the result of not intervening would be even worse than the result of intervening. Never, though, should the United States or any big power use force to change the course of events in another country and presume that things will work out well. The real winner in Libya may turn out to be Al Qaeda, which profits whenever chaos engulfs a Muslim country.


There may be urgent situations that force the United States to wage war. Libya may even be one of them. Americans should be told frankly, however, that war — not a “kinetic military action’’ — is what we are waging. Perhaps we, and our representatives in Congress, don’t want to hear this truth. Far easier to reach back into history for a parallel like the Rwandan genocide, which is as heart-rending as it is irrelevant. Libya is not Rwanda. In fact, one of the most daunting realities of this war is that Libya is Libya.


Stephen Kinzer teaches international relations at Boston University and is the author of “A Thousand Hills: Rwanda’s Rebirth and the Man Who Dreamed It.’’