Take Two?

It's funny how even when I post publicly that I will be publishing something new daily, I fail in even that. I have all these grandiose dreams of how I am going to find my voice through blogging, and the best I usually come up with are half-hearted attempts at blogs, re-posting interesting articles or videos that I happen to come across daily.

And to think that great writers are made of this stuff.

Anyways, although I've embarrassed myself already, I won't rescind my commitment, because it will at least give me motivation to post more often than I have in the past. Who knows, maybe I will make multiple posts in one day! (Yeah, right.)

So my post for today, aside from that confession, is a link to an interesting article I read the other day. The writer of the article is speaking tonight at Princeton, and although I would love to attend the discussion, I unfortunately have a class that I must get to. Isn't it ironic, that we come to school expecting to attend all these discussions and meet wonderful professors and faculty in addition to all the amazing people that the school brings to campus, and yet we are hindered by our very own "education"?

Regardless, I present to you an article by Anne-Marie Slaughter, current Princeton professor and former Dean of Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs, as well as former Director of Policy Planning for the U.S. State Department.

Man, I wish I had the balls to skip that class, but I'm afraid I'll fail this week's problem set if I do...


This lady said it: Why Women Can't Have it All

Bibanke

I sing in an a capella group on campus called Umqombothi, and this is the most recent song that we arranged and learned in rehearsal a few days ago. It's been in my head ever since. The tune is beautiful and haunting at the same time, and speaks of a nostalgic lost love. I suppose it's pretty cheesy, or typical of a song theme, but something in Asa's voice and the arrangement of the instruments moved something within me. I hope it moves you, too!

Medium

While we're on the topic of writing, I'd like to share an excerpt from a poem by Billy Collins, who is perhaps my favorite American poet. The words in this excerpt caught my heart and made me fall in love with the remainder of the poem, as well as with Collins' works.


"I want to write with the least control,
one finger on the steering wheel,
to write like a watercolorist
whose brush persuades the liquids to stay above the pull and run of gravity.
...

I want to write on air
as in the rapid language of signs
or in the lighting of a cigarette,
both hands cupped near the mouth,
then one waving out the flame
and the long, silent exhalation of smoke,
the gate of the body swinging open.

Most of all,
I want to write on your skin
with the tip of my finger,
printing one capital letter at a time
on the smooth vellum of your back.
I want you to guess the message
being written on your flesh
as children do in summer at the beach,
to feel the shape of every letter
being traced upon your body -- oh, ideal reader --
to read with your eyes shut tight,
kneeling in the sand, facing the open sea."

- excerpts from "Medium", by Billy Collins

Commitment

Commitments.
Time, activities, people.
Every new year, school year, or birthday that rolls around we love to make resolutions, commitments to do this and change that and determine to succeed in these promises to ourselves.

 But it's not so easy.

Easy enough, perhaps, to keep up with homework and to attend lectures.
Easy enough, perhaps, to attend practices and meetings and rehearsals.
Easy enough, perhaps, to be on time for that work shift.
A little more difficult to follow up on that diet and workout.
A little more difficult to hang out with your friends outside of classes and activities.
A little more difficult to Skype with your high school friends.
A little more difficult to phone your long distance boyfriend every day.
Difficult to read the Bible daily, and to set aside 15 minutes for quiet time with God.
Difficult to call the family and keep each other updated about where you are in life.
Difficult to give up the easier commitments for the harder ones, claiming that those are higher priority.

Not everybody can relate, but these are my specific struggles. Everybody has a set unique to their own personalities and priorities and livelihoods.

It's so easy to plan something, to promise another, and then to flake - to perform superficially, to procrastinate, to cancel. And it happens all. the. time. Every New Years', every birthday, every round of intense introspection and contemplation which occurs at least twice a year, always ends in a newly strengthened resolve, an eagerness that feels like success this time. And then it fades. We are built in cycles, almost like the seasons, or the moon. Our enthusiasm peaks and ebbs and usually dies out. Sometimes it persists, and most times it doesn't.

Blog-writing is one of these commitments. It's small, but bothers me because there is so much to write about, to reflect on, that otherwise passes through my mind like the fleeting thoughts they are and end up buried somewhere deep within my cranium or gone like ghosts passing by. I tried to blog regularly about my life, then about my time in Oman, then after Oman, then in Rwanda, then after Rwanda, and now having undergone at least 3 of those cycles, I'm tired of it. I need to write because it will cultivate my thoughts. It will force me to organize the way I think into coherent ideas that can be articulated in a non-bullshitty manner.

So my commitment for this blog is to write a piece every day. Whether it is big, or small, or a "reblog", or a photo, or an essay, or a poem, or an old journal entry from my time abroad or traveling, I will make a commitment to write a post. Every day. It's hard without an accountability partner - I could ask a friend or a sibling to make sure that I post everyday - but I hope that by doing this by myself, for myself, it will make my efforts that much more effective and will help me to break some of these nasty habits I've developed over the past several years. 

How to find your way around Rwanda

June 22, 2012

Although Rwanda is a tiny country (drive 3 or 4 hours in any direction from Kigali, and you're bound to hit the border of another country), it is organized quite precisely. It is split into provinces (eastern, western, etc.), each of which are organized into districts, which are divided into sectors, which have individual cells. The precise vocabularly used for the organization of the country makes it sound almost military and is not unsimilar to the pre-war layout of the place.

So, even with the preciseness of the geographical proportioning of Rwanda, although there is no such thing as the precise address of a location, one can find the place with the province, district, sector, and cell information, along with the help of nearby landmarks, which is basically how anyone gets around the place, particularly via public transportation. It's funny because when I am asked to provide an exact address of the hostel that I am staying, I can only tell someone: in Kacyiru, Kigali, near the Top Tower. However, for a precise description, I could say, for example, one of the bridge projects that I am working on is located in the Eastern Province, in the district of Gatsibo, the sector called Nyagihanga, and between the Mayange and Kibare cells. That's about as accurate a description as one can get.

Thus, if you are trying to find your way about Rwanda, and especially in Kigali, it's best to learn all the major landmarks for references (I'm still working on that on my part)... good luck!

Tuzahura Tubibuka

June 16, 2012

This one is addressed to my sister in particular, but for anybody to read. It was also written yesterday, but I didn't have the chance to post it, so here it is.

Today, I walked through a rose garden. It wasn't particularly large, nor were the roses that stunning or even fully bloomed, but the significance of the garden was just as great as that of the one in Swarthmore, if not greater.

Today, I went to visit the genocide memorial site in Kigali. The memorial has an exhibition of the Rwandan genocide along with the graves over 250,000 people. There is a special rose garden that is an addition to the genocide memorial, as well as a collection of books written on genocides of the 20th century. The memorial is maintained by the Aegis Trust, which is an organization dedicated campaigning against crimes against humanity and genocide and which sponsors many other initiatives including a genocide education program, a program targeted to help Rwandan widows and orphans, an international grassroots organization for students, and the Discover Rwanda Youth Hostel that I have spent a few nights in.

After walking through the entire site, I was asked to fill out a survey describing my impressions of the site. How do I describe the feelings that I felt while walking through that place? Reading about the circumstances leading up, during, and in the aftermath of the genocide, watching videos of the testimonials of survivers, seeing the photos and bones and clothing of some of the countless people killed, knowing that the rest of the world did nothing but watch... I felt a combination of confusion as to how it could be possible for a person to kill another, much less several or tens or even hundreds of other people, anger that such an atrocity was permitted to happen after everybody declared "Never Again" after previous genocides like the Holocaust, shame that the U.S. and the rest of the world did nothing to prevent nor alleviate the killings, compassion for those who survived and live with the physical, mental, and emotional scars of 18 years, frustration that even now is a struggle for many Rwandans and that I can do next to nothing to help. If I could give money to every beggar on the street, if I could take every village child and feed and clothe him and send her to university, I'd be God. But I'm not, so I can't.

There was another exhibit at the memorial centre that described other genocides in the 20th century like Heteros, the Armenians, the Holocaust, in Cambodia, and in Bosnia and the nations of the former Yugoslavia. Each time, it's as if just by saying "Never Again", apologizing, and sending monetary aid to [some] of these places, it's as if the rest of the world feels like they can be let off for letting such a horror occur. How easy is it to forget after 10, 20, 30 years? The Holocaust was over 50 years ago, and after a few generations has passed, it becomes easier to let it slide into the past.

The Aegis Trust also has an education programme for teaching people in Rwanda about the genocide in order to ensure that it never happens again, and that people never forget. But tell me, which country that has endured genocide has undergone a second genocide? I don't think education programmes are necessary to ensure that Rwandans never forget the genocide. I think the broken homes, the shattered families, the missing neighbors and mothers and brothers and fathers and sisters and friends will be enough to make sure that they never forget. Maybe it would be more useful to target these education programmes towards other places where it is not as likely that they will have heard of genocide, particularly in countries where education is lacking (which is a far larger number of countries than I would care to count or identify), and even more so in areas where there is ethnic strife or tension that could potentially explode.

After my time in Rwanda, I will be traveling through Europe, with my primary focus on a programe which will take me through the countries of the Former Yugoslavia to learn about various interfaith initiatives for post-conflict conciliation. I'm not really sure what to expect, but it is a programme organized by the office of religious life at my university. I didn't know much about the Rwandan genocide before I came here, and I know even less about the Balkan Wars. I'll try to do some research if I can before I arrive in Serbia, but I have the feeling that I'll learn much more during the two-week programme as I travel to each state that was once a part of Yugoslavia.


Until then, there are many other memorial sites around Kigali that I would like to visit. I'll try to post some pictures along with descriptions of the other sites I have the opportunity to visit.

Motortaxis, or motos, or bodabodas

June 12, 2012

Yesterday was my first full day of exploring Kigali, although to be honest, I didn't get that much exploration done. We caught motortaxis, also known as motos or bodabodas, from Kagugu to downtown Kigali for 1000 RWF, or about $1.65 or so. This is a big change from the first day we arrived in Rwanda, when we got ripped off on a similar motortaxi ride for the same price for about a hundred meter drive.

Motortaxis are one of the options available for public transportation. There are also buses and standard cabs that can be ridden into and out of town for slighter lower or higher prices. Buses and cabs generally have standardized fees which depend on the distances traveled, whereas moto prices generally require some haggling, particular if you are a foreigner. Although buses are the cheapest option, they are generally extremely crowded with passengers, so not the most comfortable of rides. The cabs are the more expensive option of the lot, and the motos fall in the middle. During rush hour or in areas of heavy traffic, it is recommended that one opts for a ride in a moto since the bikes weave in and out of traffic much more easily and quickly than a car or a bus.

The 30 minute ride into downtown Kigali was well spent and worth every penny. Not only was it much faster than driving in a car (and much more dangerous - about every traffic law is broken on these bikes, and the helmets are more often broken than not, although at least they do have helmets for passengers. I also discovered on another ride that the spedometer of my driver's bike was broken, so I didn't actually know how fast we were going, although it was definitely over whatever the speed limit may have been in that area.), but the view is much more impactful. Driving in a car, one has a wall of metal side and a window between yourself and the view. Driving on a bike, there is nothing other than maybe the helmet. Terrifying, but exhilarating. The feel of the wind blasting past as I watched the city speed by stirred up such an adrenaline rush. And the country sprawls out in hills and hills past the roads we drove on. No wonder the country is known as "The land of a thousand hills". We passed people selling wares on the road, workers hoeing out a field, friends lounging at an outdoor bar? (not sure how to describe them or what they are called), women with bolts of kitenge, the local fabric. It was beautiful.

I'm excited to explore and discover more of this country during my time here!

(pictures are rather difficult to upload, so until next time!)

Prelude

Hello, folks!

It's been a while, but I'm back on the road again. This summer, I will be in Rwanda for 10 weeks before traveling through Eastern and Western Europe on a mixture of internships, Eurail, and a program learning about interfaith initiatives to post-conflict conciliation in the former Yugoslavia. I hope to blog whenever I can find internet access, so I hope you'll follow along!

Best,
Jen

Skype

Skype is a gift from God, or from the creators of technology. It allows us to connect with those far away, to hear their voices, and to even see their faces. Having attended an international school in high school, Skype means even more for us whose closest friends are some thousands of miles away.

That being said, I'm terrible at Skype-ing.

I am always telling my friends through Facebook posts and messages that we ought to Skype sometime, but to set an actual date and time, and follow through and go online at that precise moment, is quite difficult. For me, it's even more difficult than getting to a meeting on time. And Skype-ing doesn't even require leaving my room!
Thinking about it though, I think that however much I would love to see and hear my friends, I am, in reality, afraid to video chat with them. I can type for hours on end and write letters and leave wall posts, but I am afraid of that surreal face-to-face encounter that although it seems real, is really not. Although it's just like talking to a friend in the flesh, it feels weird for me to Skype. For some, it's as naturally as placing a phone call. For others, like me, I wouldn't say that I avoid using the application, but I definitely don't utilize it as much as I say I want to. It's something about the physical gap in time and space since the last time I was standing next to my friend in the flesh I shy away from video chatting. I don't know if it's just a quirk of mine or if it's a common feeling shared by others, but

I'd much prefer to wait to meet in person. 

Memories

I wonder how many, and which memories could I dredge up from my lifetime if I blogged about one per day?

Sometimes there is a fleeting feeling of nostalgia, other times waves of memories that wash over me. Sometimes I could write a novel; other times a photo is more than words.

This song has been on my mind tonight: "Every Night (When the Sun Go In)"
Although the beautiful lyrics and tune were the only aspects on my mind, as I turn my attention to the melody in my head I find myself facing middle school, and the chamber choir, Seventh Heaven, along with the longtime director of the choir and all the pride that came with being a member of the prestigious Seventh Heaven. With those memories come recollections of weekly performances, either in concert or in private homes or even once at the state capital. Memories of 7:30am rehearsals, jokes on the director, spending so much time together with every performance. The group of friends that formed during these two years of 7th and 8th grade were my friends throughout high school, and most of them are still tight today.

The song itself is beautiful, if a bit sad. There are present accompanying feelings with the tune, but the memories outweigh the emotions for now.