Hi everyone!

I have been in Rwanda a month now and while it has

not been the easiest transition I don't regret a moment of it. There

are times I think about how much easier some things would be in the

States—but I wouldn’t trade being here for the world.

When I walk to town in the morning I am usually amidst a dozen or so

school children on their way to lessons, which always makes me smile.

But when I get to the top of my dirt road, where the school children

and I part ways, I am faced with the first of many daily reminders of

why I am here. I am fortunate to live in a neighborhood close to

parliament, a giant concrete building, atop a concrete hill, behind a

barbed wire fence, surrounded by a plethora of armed guards. The idea

of Parliament generally brings to my mind thoughts of national pride

and strength.  It means so much more here. The Parliament building was

one of the last strongholds of the rebels during the genocide in 1994,

and as a testament to this, the current government has chosen to leave

much of the building the way it was.  On the upper north-facing wall

you can still see hundreds of what I assume are bullet holes, and

other, larger ash marks made by some other weapon I like to pretend

doesn't exist. This building is one of the many reminders physical

reminders of what happened. But just as the school children make me

smile and inspire me to keep working, this ash blown building

motivates me. It is proof of the evil that was once here has at least

been checked, and therefore proof that what we belong here and what we

are doing here is right.

Before moving to Rwanda, I had planned on volunteering with an

organization that focused on post conflict resolution—specifically

with survivors of sexual assault. Throughout college I worked as a

trauma counselor for survivors of sexual assault. I also worked on

raising awareness about sexual assault with both preventative and

responsive measures. However, shortly after arriving I found out that

my job perspective had changed (I’ll say more about this below). I set

out to try to find a new opportunity.

Soon after my arrival in Rwanda I was contacted by woman from Martha’s

Vineyard who knew of a young man in Kigali struggling to run an

orphanage with very little funding and in desperate need of help. I

immediately got in touch with him.

Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) is a non-profit organization

that was established in 1995 by Emmanuel Uwamahoro (who is an orphan

of the genocide himself). It works not only to help children orphans,

but also seeks to ensure the health and happiness of handicapped

individuals, the elderly and unwed mothers. Collectively, OVC has five

“social centers” and plans for a sixth that will provide a home for

100 children between 3 months and 18 years. OVC provides services and

guidance for 1,500 children annually, as well as vocational training

and activities for 70 handicapped children, and care for 50 elderly

individuals over the age of 65 (many of whom have relatives at the

orphanage or foster home). It teaches dressmaking, masonry, computer

sciences and other vocational skills for an additional 240 young

individuals. And it provides daycare, nutritional support, healthcare,

clothing and toys for 210 children.  OVC is run by a board of 20

remarkable individuals assisted by some 30 or so dedicated volunteers.

OVC is well organized and run with compassion and a purpose. They have

asked me to help them to set up a web presence to both communicate

their mission an to raise funds. They’ve also asked me to help them

formulate business plans and to apply for grants. I believe I have the

skills to help them with these tasks. But I also know they cannot

afford to pay me. What I want, more than anything in the world, is to

be able to stay here and help Emmanuel and the hundreds of souls that

depend on him. But before I can help to ensure their finical security

and future, I need to establish my own. I can't help them unless I am

here and I can't be here unless I have the money to do so. So I am

again appealing to you.

I don’t want to live strictly on the kindness of others, and I am

willing and am looking for other part time jobs, ones that can at

least provide me with a food stipend so that I can continue to work

for OVC.  But jobs that pay are very hard to get without field

experience—of the kind I’m hoping to get at OVC. It’s a catch-22. You

can’t get “field experience” unless you have “experience in the

field.”

The bottom line is I can't stay if I don't have help. I can't afford

to stay and help the orphanage—or anyone—if I can't cover my expenses.

I am here in Rwanda with my dear friend Becca. And although

we have had a great time and seen a lot since we got here, I assure

you that we are not living the high life. To be blunt, we’re broke,

barely hanging on.

 In our room is a large bed, a built-in closest and a mosquito net. I

don't even have the money to buy sheets because I am saving what I

have to try to ensure that I can stay as long as possible. I am still

sleeping in my sleeping bag liner with a t-shirt over my $3 pillow. I

have one towel. We use the bag the garlic came in as a tea bag for

tea. We have 2 plastic mugs, 3 plastic plates and 3 bowls that each

cost $.80. That’s it. Our diet has included instant pudding made with

instant powdered almond milk--both left over from the previous tenant.

It’s true that I came here with only vaguely formed plans. I made a

leap of faith. And you supported me on that basis. You too made a leap

of faith. I’m asking you to make another. 

 

My birthday is just around the corner (February 15th) and just as it

was for Christmas, my wish for my 25th birthday is to be able to stay

here—and make the difference I know I am capable of. 

Thank you and Happy New Year!