Interesting Article Roundup

I'd love to write a blog post about each of these articles, but given the abundance this week of great stuff that's come across my inbox, maybe it's best to just post the links and let you have at it. Each of these is really worth reading.

Maternal Deaths Focus Harsh Light on Uganda 

This damning New York Times article illustrates the maternal health crisis in Uganda through the story of the death of an elected official who bled to death during labor at a major public hospital even though it was later determined she had arrived in time to be saved. A few quotes to get you interested:

 "As the United States and other donors have given African nations billions of dollars to fight AIDS and other infectious diseases...most of the African governments have reduced their own share of domestic spending devoted to health, shifting to other priorities."

"The government set off a bitter domestic debate this spring when it confirmed that it had paid more than half a billion dollars for fighter jets and other military hardware — almost triple the amount of its own money dedicated to the entire public health system in the last fiscal year."

A Tale of Two Black Cities

From the Daily Independent, a Nigerian paper, this articles offers a somewhat over the top ode to Kigali.  The writer, apparently currently residing in Washington, DC,  opines over Kigali's clean streets and "unpretentious brick houses".  The picture it paints of Kigali is certainly not 100% accurate, but it does illustrate many of the things people appreciate about the city in comparison to its urban African peers.  Choice excerpts:

"Kigali city is spotless. The bus drivers and conductors are so clean you could hire them as your secretary on the spot, and plead with them to resume immediately. The markets are tidy, so tidy, you could sit on the floor and chill for a while in the midst of your shopping for organic fresh vegetables and fruits."

"As much aid has poured into the Democratic Republic of Congo, Uganda, and Kenya, but these countries are nothing compared to what Rwanda is today. Rwanda is being built on the discipline of President Kagame and his team, their commitment to excellence, their tenacity in the face of several obstacles, and their uncommon resolve to transcend the temptation to visit vengeance."

AFRICA: The crazy things they say: politicians and HIV

Reading this article is akin to driving by a car wreck.  It's difficult to believe that elected officials, responsible for leading their nations and modeling responsibility and knowledge, could publicly give such detrimental statements regarding HIV and AIDS.  I can't imagine Paul Kagame ever saying something so prejudiced, callous, and just plain idiotic.

"Her approach to HIV/AIDS drew widespread international condemnation, which came to a head following the 2006 International AIDS Conference in Toronto, when she insisted that garlic, lemon and beetroot be displayed in South Africa's exhibition booth."

"The Swazi MP was left embarrassed after media reports claimed he had suggested branding HIV-positive people on the buttocks in order to prevent the virus from spreading."

How Congress Devastated Congo

This is perhaps my favorite of the group only because it makes me the most pissed off.  In a nutshell, it describes how recent US legislation requires public American companies to "indicate what measures they are taking to ensure that minerals in their supply chain don’t benefit warlords in conflict-ravaged Congo".  Instead of progress in the Congo, the result has been that American companies have chosen to avoid dealing with Congolese mineral traders altogether and the people who previously dug in mines for around $2 a day are pissed with Obama and his Congressional minions.  Congo - damned if you don't and apparently damned if you do.

"No one wants to be tarred with financing African warlords — especially the glamorous high-tech firms like Apple and Intel that are often the ultimate buyers of these minerals. It’s easier to sidestep Congo than to sort out the complexities of Congolese politics — especially when minerals are readily available from other, safer countries."

"The people of eastern Congo agree that it would be beneficial to bring greater clarity and transparency to the mineral trade. A variety of local and international initiatives to do so were under way when the embargo hit. Those efforts may now become a casualty of the Dodd-Frank law."

On to the next one.

"I can't believe a year went by so fast." - Mark, from the musical Rent

Ok, so it didn't always feel fast.  But regardless, here I am, finished with CHAI, finished with Global Health Corps.  I head home to DC on Tuesday of this week.  It's been a great year full of friends and learning and hard work and good lessons.  I'm planning on keeping up this blog when I return home not only to rant about Rwanda's (and larger Africa's) news and portrayal in the media, but also to write a bit more in detail about my experience this year.  But I won't bore readers with all that now.  For now, let's just look at a list of things I'll miss about Rwanda and what I'm looking forward to at home.

DC, I love:

• sushi cheaper than $16 a roll and with almost no risk of food poisoning
• free art museums
• any museums, now that I think about it
• the metro
• not having to take motos as my main source of transport
• fast internet and the ability to stream media
• Camembert, brie, and bleu cheeses
• movie theaters and RedBox
• service industry competency
• blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, peaches, plums
• flat streets for running
• not having to bargain for everything always
• television - Glee, the Daily Show, the Colbert Report, House, the Good Wife
• not having to cook everything from scratch
• cheap booze and wine

Rwanda, I'll miss:

• kids playing with home-made soccer balls in the middle of a dirt street
• dancing until 5 in the morning to amazing African beats
• pineapples cheaper than regular apples
• 95% sunny days and dry heat
• taking motos
• speaking French
• cheap Ethiopian
• hilariously misspelled business signs (anyone for a "pedicule" and "flesh milk"?)
• the smell of eucalyptus trees
• drinking whiskey straight out of necessity
• Kinyarwanda
• mangoes, papayas, maracuja
• the look of banana trees on a distant hill
• bargaining prices down
• not having a television
• ridiculously cheap produce
• Ugandan Waragi gin

Typical.

Rwanda and its neighbor to the south are frequently described as mirror countries.  Ruled jointly by Belgium during colonialism, the countries have similar cultures, demographics, political histories, almost identical topographies, and similar struggles during the 1990's.  Two of the few stark differences between the countries are the amount of aid money given to each country, and their economic recovery following civil unrest.  I can't find the numbers (post in the comments if you know), but Rwanda get's LOTS more money than Burundi in international aid.  It's been argued that one of the major reason for this disparity is due to worldwide guilt over the genocide.  Although Burundi has had major civil strife over the last 20 years, they haven't seen the same numbers killed in the same swift, organized way as in Rwanda.

I came across a reference to this difference in the two countries in the unlikeliest of places today - the comments section on a blog post on Gweneth Paltrow and her new campaign for the Coach bag empire.  The website - jezebel.com - is sort of known for being full of Gweneth haters.  I won't really expound on why she's so ragged-on except to say that in addition to having that "shit don't stink" air about her, she also launched a "lifestyle" website named Goop (which she says doesn't stand for anything) in which she frequently advises people to better their lives via completely ridiculous, unattainable-for-mortals, expensive shit.

Anyway, in the comments section of this post, a BRILLIANT reference to the Rwanda-Burundi funding disparity came up:

So the author of the post (Jenna Sauers) asks where people read "Gwyneth hate" into what she wrote in the original post.  The commenter below her (Ari Schwartz) comes to her defense by saying that even if Gwyneth gave all her cash money to Rwandan chilldren, people would still hate on her.  Pretty funny.  BUT IT GETS BETTER!  Further down the comment thread is this reply:

"And not a dime for Burundi.  Typical." 

ZING!  What a brilliant, inside-jokey, witty and educated comment.  It was a perfect moment of synergy of snarky commentary, fashion, celebrity, and East African politics.  I think it might have have been the best online comment, ever.  

Please don't judge me for being a nerd.

A sucess ten months in the making.

If you've followed this here blog of mine or have spoken me with me since I left the States almost a year ago, you know that I trained for the Kigali Peace Marathon for essentially the duration of my one year fellowship.  I wrote a post back in January titled "Why I Run", so I won't bog this one down with the back-story of why I chose to start training.  But I did run, and I did finish.  So I figure I should at least close the door on that part of my year before I jet back to DC.

I originally had planned to run the full 26 mile marathon, mostly because I am hard-headed.  Somewhere around when my mother and aunt visited in February and I didn't run once in two weeks, I started to see that sticking steadfastly to that goal was going to result in me being really disappointed in myself.  So I cut it down to the half-marathon, confirmed with Alex that he wouldn't think I was an utter failure for "only" running 13 miles, and finished my training.  Originally scheduled to visit in April for my birthday, Alex had to re-plan his trip because of work and we set his new arrival date one day before the half marathon.  I made him promise he would run it with me.  

About 18 hours after he stepped off the plane, Alex and I were dressed and ready to head down to the national stadium for the start of the race.  The stadium itself was a bit of a mad house - not only were they running the full and half-marathons simultaneously, but they were also doing a relay marathon and a kids 5k fun run.  I wish I have pictures of some of the unintentionally hilarious getups some people ran in.  I vividly remember one woman in running shorts and a cheerleading top.  Who knows where she found that.

At about 8:45 am (really late, in marathon start times), encouraged on by some inexplicable European techno music, we were off.  I was so nervous I was ready to puke.  What if I didn't finish?  What if I'd trained this whole time only to fail on game day?  Thankfully, I wasn't the only one who was nervous.  Poor Alex quickly realized just what he'd gotten himself into.  I'm not trying to sound like a hero here, but running in Kigali is hard.  It's really hard.  In addition to being at a mile altitude, the whole city is nothing but up and down.  Even the "flat" parts are really just low-grade hills.

By the time we were making our way down the first big hill and into the first loop, the male marathon pack leaders were already circling back on their way to the second half of the loop.  They were insane.  A group of about 20 almost scary-skinny men just pounding the pavement, none of them blinking an eye.  A few minutes later, we passed the women's marathon (only about 6 of them) coming back from their first half of the loop.  Just as intense, just as focused.

As we made our way along the course, there were lots of images that will stick with me for a long time.  The man with only one leg who did the half-marathon on crutches and who stayed in front of Alex and me the entire time.  The blind man who ran the entire marathon with help from friends who lead him through the course.  The smile on an older woman's face as she handed me a banana from the sidelines.  The other man with one leg, a member of the national cycling team, who kept pace with the women's marathon runners to make sure the road was clear for them.  Stopping to help the man who fainted from heat exhaustion right in front of us.  The two women with babies on their backs who ran beside me up a hill I had almost walked instead.  The goosebumps I felt on my arm when people cheered us through the end of our first loop through the stadium and I pictured the almost 12,000 refugees who lived inside its walls during the genocide in 1994.

The phrase "a story for the kids" was something I said several times during our 2 hour and 45 minute half-marathon.  Alex was really my hero.  It got hot and we got tired and it was really one of the hardest things I've ever done.  But the old guy and I pushed through and we finished.  Exhausted, but finished.  It was a great feeling.  One day, I'll do a full marathon in someplace very flat and very mild.  We're planning on running the Charlottesville 10K in October just to get back into the swing of things.


I can't wait to hit the streets of DC in new kicks, with new tunes, and new-found sense of confidence.  Hell, if I can survive 13 miles at 5,000 feet and equatorial sun, I can surely survive whatever the District throws my way.

Today in Misguided Charity Marketing

Our office has a great culture of forwarding news articles, studies, and photographs that run the full gamut offbeat, thought-provoking, tasteless, heartfelt, and inside-jokey.  Yesterday, my boss sent around the following Macy's advertisement which he'd received from a friend who had previously lived in Rwanda.

Before I get to ranting, let me say that my intention is not to denigrate the "Path to Peace" organization which sells its wares through Macy's stores and websites.  There are many organizations in Rwanda who combine craft products/fashion, reconciliation, development, health, the whole shebang.  Some of them (like the Rwanda/Spanish fashion house, Mille Collines, run by friends of mine) are great.  Some aren't.  I have no way of knowing whether this particular project actually "changes communities" the way it says it does or whether its artisans get paid marginally more than they usually would and middle men pocket the rest.  It IS hard to dispute that their wares are truly beautiful.  I don't take umbrage at the organization itself.  I just think its ad was marketed by Macy's in a stupidly offensive way.

 

Rant Point #1 - Shop for a better world.  Let's just be honest.  Nobody shops for a better world.  You shop for shit to put on your body, on your front hallway table, your bookshelf.  'Path to Peace' didn't partner with Macy's because Macy's customers have a strong history of giving back.  They partnered with Macy's because Macy's customers have a strong history of buying shit.  And not just any shit.  Expensive shit that makes them look impressive in the eyes of their friends/enemies/frenimies.  When you want to contribute selflessly to a cause, you give money to an organization like DonorsChoose, where all you get in return is a thank-you email and that elusive "inner pride" thing my 8th grade science teacher always gave for winning review games.  

Why does buying things from "Africa" always have to make people feel good?  Do people have to believe that they're helping end hunger or AIDS or [insert your cause here] in order to purchase a product made in Africa?  Whatever happened to good old fashioned capitalism?  These baskets don't need to be "symbolic of the country's success".  They shouldn't need to be symbolic of anything.  The baskets these woman make are beautiful and stand on their own.  I don't need to buy one of these baskets because they help a woman buy health insurance, I can buy one because they're freaking baller.  I've given many of these types of baskets to people as gifts over the years and never because I wanted to make the world a better place.  They're well made and aesthetically pleasing.  That's enough for me, and it should be enough for Macy's customers.

Rant Point #2 - Free Shipping.  Well hell, if I can shop for a better world AND get free shipping [exclusions apply], what am I doing just sitting here on my office-chair cushy ass?

Rant Point #3 - A Happy Anniversary.  You know what?  F*** you, Mr. Macy's Marketing Man.  This line is so erroneous and offensive and just DUMB.  First of all, if you're going to allude to the genocide as a marketing scheme, at least have the balls to write the word somewhere on the ad.  As much as it would be great to think that all Macy's customers have a basic understanding of the genocide in 1994, it's just not true.  I mean, I knew a woman who came to Rwanda in 2007 to run an organization and she somehow made it off the PLANE without knowing about the genocide (this is a true story, I swear to God).

You know, I never can remember - am I supposed to give linen or leather for a 17th genocide anniversary?  Maybe it's paper or bronze....Come ON.  I was in Kigali in April for this so-called Anniversary of 17 Years of Peace and there was very little mirth, rejoicing, or general merriment.  There were, however, a lot of people somberly recounting the last time they saw a friend, sleeping in bushes to hide from murderers, and lots of death.  It's not a "happy" anniversary any way you skew it.  Putting a picture of two smiling women (why are they always smiling?) in your ad doesn't change that fact.  Not to mention that Rwanda saw several years of civil unrest following the 100 days of the genocide, so even the "17 years of peace" concept is, at best, historically inaccurate.

MilleColline's collection @ Anthropologie

People working with African handicraft makers to broaden their tourist customer base into a global one are often doing good work.  Africa represents an astonishing range of cultures each with lots to share with the world and although almost all of what's out there is based purely on an African aesthetic (jewelry, decorative items like these baskets, fashion), it's been encouraging in the past few years to see parts of the continent at least represented in the global market.  But the products that come out of Africa should sell based on their own merits and not on the concept of charity.  Consumers should buy items they would purchase anyway, and African producers should make items at a quality that deserves a rightful place among leather bags from Italy, perfume from America, and whatever other expensive stuff Macy's sells.

Rwanda's leadership has made it clear that their country doesn't need charity development, charity education, or a charity GDP.  It needs (and demands) real development, real education, and a real GDP.  So thanks, but no thanks, Macy's.  However, next time you want to market a product from Rwanda, call me.  I've got plenty of ideas.

Happy birthday, old man.

I'm here because of Alex.  In March of 2010, I was just starting to think about what I would do after my two-year Teach For America commitment finished.  Would I continue to teach?  I decided that I felt so strongly about teaching and the state of education in the United States that I would either sign on for another five years, or walk away.  One Sunday night in a coffee shop, about 15 minutes before they closed, I stumbled upon the Global Health Corps.  They not only had a position with the Clinton Heath Access Initiative, it was in Rwanda.  My heart sank.  It was the perfect follow up to two years out of the health sector.  It was also across the Atlantic Ocean, for a year.

Alex didn't even blink.  "You have to apply.  And when you get the job, you  have to go," he said.  "It's the right thing to do for your career."  Of course, he was right, but when I tell people that he was not only supportive of me moving abroad for a year, but was the one who convinced me to apply for the fellowship, they're often surprised (and always impressed).  But that's just the kind of guy Alex is.  Always logical, he said to me, "It's just a year.  I'll be here when you get back, I'm not going anywhere.  We'll be fine."  And of course, he was right.  He always is about these things.  We're three weeks away from being back in the same city for the foreseeable future, and I'm so excited.

But it hasn't been easy.  In fact, it's been really hard.  So on his birthday (the second I've missed in as many years), I wanted to thank him for finding the patience, thoughtfulness, dedication, patience, love, faith, and patience to make it through a year on opposite sides of an ocean, on opposite sides of the world.  There are very few girls lucky enough to have men who not only encourage their careers, but who hang out with their families while they're gone, scour the city for elusive items to send abroad, and work three jobs to save money to visit them across the world.  Not to mention that he's pretty easy on the eyes and almost as good a dancer as he is at looking distinguished in sweaters.

I love you Mr. C!  Here's to many future birthdays spent in each others company.

The Most Loved Man in Kigali...

...is not actually Paul Kagame,  Ok, PK might win in terms of total numbers of people who adore him.  But the honor of greatest volume of love goes to the one and only Brad - dear friend, baby fattener, Supreme Master of the Dance Floor,  nurse-to-all, family planning proponent #1, Sass Master #2 (I'm the first), and Rwandan orphan accompagnateur - who turned 24 last week.  His parents were visiting Kigali on his birthday and he came to our house to pick up (he thought) a roommate of his for dinner.  He was met with a crowd of about 35 people, approximately 2.65 million pink balloons, dinner, a brand new bike, and the video below.  His roommate and Gardens for Health co-founder, Julie, had spent the previous three weeks organizing and taking video of his friends not only in Rwanda, but having folks from all over the world (South Africa, Uganda, Burundi, Baltimore, New York), sending him "love and light" to show him just how incredible a person he is.

A quick side story about Brad to illustrate his crazy brand of awesome.  During the half-marathon, Brad did one lap around the course (about 6 miles) and after he finished, spent the rest of the time finding friends to cheer along.  Part of the motivation was in the sheer ridiculosity of his getup.  Picture a marathon.  Running shorts, tank tops, more running shorts, etc.  Now picture a super-skinny, dreadlocked man in a mid-thigh-length, tie-dyed onesie.  Did I mention that it's SKIN tight?  Yeah.  Skin tight.  Picture that image in the context of conservative Kigali, Alex and I struggling along the course, and Brad running backwards in front of us and cheering.  Ask Alex how he finished the half marathon and he won't tell you I got him through it, he'll tell you it was Brad, in all his spandex-ed glory, who pulled him to the end.

I DARE you to keep a dry eye while watching this video.  It's rare that a single person can inspire this much genuine love from so many people.  It's clear in this video just how special a guy Brad is.  We love you my dear!

Forodhani Gardens

I have a dirty vegetarian secret.  It's different from my mother's dirty vegetarian secret which is that one time she ate a chicken nugget - she claims - in order not to waste it when cleaning up dinner many years ago (I know it's really because they're delicious).  Mine, however, is that I love...LOVE...seafood.  Maybe a little too much.  For a person who doesn't eat red meat (or chicken, turkey) in part because I believe you should only eat what you'd be willing to kill yourself, I sure can throw down on seared tuna steak and calamari.  And oysters, squid, shrimp.  Oh, and mussels.  Ok, let's keep this moving before I - oh and CRAB - get too excited.  

Although Zanzibar seemed to be short on a lot of things - governmental competence, any discernible plan for trash collection or processing, reliable electricity - there was no shortage of fruits de la mer.  It flowed like wine at an Episcopalian social gathering.  Alex and I spent two nights in Stone Town and ate at the same place both times - a magical market the stuff of a pescatarian's dreams, Forodhani Gardens.  A beautifully renovated open air courtyard and market, the Gardens serves as the marketplace where local fisherman will describe in almost pornographic detail each of their succulent and fresh-from-the-sea offerings to both old-school Zanzibaris and starry-eyed newlyweds alike.

The market is set up in a grid of tables and grills and the fisherman have a team of a few young guys who grill customers' orders while their boss does his best salesman pitch for why his Mahi-mahi is exceedingly superior to his neighbor's.  Most of the seafood came in two versions - plain and spicy.  I can personally vouch for the spicy octopus.  Just try not to think too hard about the tentacle suckers as you're chewing away.

One of Alex's favorite was the whole grilled red snapper, which is apparently a traditional Jamaican thing.  I can't remember the exact price, but I want to put it somewhere in the range of $3 - $4.

In addition to kebabs of just about every seafood you could put on a stick, the fisherman's tables also sold an assortment of grilled bananas, coconut bread, potatoes, and other generally starchy and delicious items.  My personal favorite, however, was the freshly-squeezed lemonade at about 50 cents a glass.

On our second night, we basically ordered one of everything, including the largest crab claw I've ever seen.  We piled on all the starch items Alex could handle (believe me, this is a LOT), and ordered drinks to wash it all down.  The final bill (including a 20% tip for Fisherman Eddie)? Just under $30.  I tearing up just thinking about it.

My favorite three "Kigali Life" songs of the moment

There's a folder of music on my computer labeled "KigaliLife".  It's a reference to the Yahoo group of the same which essentially serves as the Craigslist of Kigali (without the adult services section*).  I add to the folder every so often when a song played on Rwandan radio or in the clubs drives me crazy in a good way.  I did a critical analysis post of three of my then-favorites back in November.  I don't have the time to analyze these next three, but I know some of you out there love music as much as me, so I figure it's better to at least link to them.  (Not to mention lots of you probably prefer them sans-Ali analysis.)

*Although I DID once see someone post asking for information about where the visiting "And 1" basketball players were staying.  Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity for sass, and posted a reply that although I was unsure of the poster's motivations in trying to find the basketball players' hotel, in America, it usually meant they were only looking for one thing....

Video 1: Up to the Ceiling by Isaac Blackman

Hailing from the West Indian twin islands of Trinidad/Tobago, this guy is someone I plan on buying out on iTunes when I return to the States and make more than about $1 an hour.  (Kidding about the $1 part.  Sort of.)  Love the basic concept of this song - your love's got me jumping up to the ceiling, what a wonderful feeling.  It's actually a gospel song about God's love, but you can substitute whoever you like - including Johnny Depp, President Obama, etc.  Just a suggestion.

Video 2: Jupka by J Martins

I actually have no idea what this song is about.  Based on the music video, I'm guessing it's about pretty girls and how much the singer loves them.  Then again, that description covers the jist of about 39.8% of all songs ever, so you're probably just as well off throwing a dart at a board.  In any case, if you can play this song, turn it up REAL loud, turn all the lights off, turn up the heat to about 85 degrees, and imagine about 50 sweaty people straight grooving out, you can get a sense of dancing to this song at about 1:30am in Kigali.

Video 3: Alors on Danse by Stromae

This isn't actually an African (or African-diaspora, in the case of Video 1) inspired song.  So why do all the Rwandans freak out when it comes over the speakers in Kigali nightclubs?  Because it's singer, Stromae (yes, it's an inversion of Maestro, you're not crazy) is a classic Rwandan "mocha" baby.  Mocha baby?  Milky mom from Belgium, chocolatey dad from Rwanda.....yeah, I didn't come up with the term.  Anyway, of course Rwandans love to see country representation in the music big leagues* even if Mr. Stromae doesn't have contact with his Rwandese father or visit the fatherland.  The song itself is quite sad for such a danceable tune.  You can read a full translation of the lyrics here (scroll down on the page), but a sample goes something like this: "he who says family means grief, he who says forever means divorce".  The main idea, however, that I think folks of any nationality can relate to, is "let's go out and (drunkenly) forget our problems. Let's dance."

*Mr. King of Hip Hop himself, Kanye West, did a remix/cover of the song.

So there you have it folks, three of my favorite KigaliLife songs of the moment.  Enjoy!

The importance of Rwandan youth - Passionate Patriots

When 20% of your country's total population is brutally murdered in the span of a hundred days, many of them in the prime of their best and brightest years, how do you rally the nation forward over the following decades?  If you're Paul Kagame, you constantly emphasize the duty and patriotism inherent in being a motivated, educated young person in your devastated country.  Perhaps more than any other current African leader, PK is a champion of African youth.  Here are a few excerpts from a speech he made to youth in Benin in November of 2010:

"Africa needs young people who are motivated by the desire to serve the interests of their people – with a sense of urgency to address the persistent problems of poverty, hunger, disease, among others."

"(Y)ou must always be mindful that the solutions to Africa’s development will come from us, not outsiders – this means that we must have high ambitions and a clear vision for our continent."

"Our experience in Rwanda has shown us that young leaders are critical for nation building and are instrumental in wealth creation."

"They have the strength which, when coupled with relevant skills and the spirit of innovation, discipline, and entrepreneurship, can be agents of change for the common good."

Based on a recent editorial in the New Times, Rwanda's only daily English paper (full disclosure, it's edited-in-chief by a good friend of mine), it looks like some young people are taking him to heart.  In a piece entitled "Engagement, Commitment, Loyalty, and Passion of Rwandan Youth", Michelle Rugema writes about a recent speech by American First Lady Michelle Obama in South Africa on the same topics of "seriousness" and "commitment". 


You really should read his whole editorial - it's well-written and moving.  However, the part that really struck me was his focus on the idea of passion:

"Without a deep passion for our lives, for our causes, and for our nations there can be no sustainable development and none of the principles mentioned above can be effective.  We need to be passionate patriots; passionate about our causes, about our country, our development and our prosperity as a people."

I'd love to be able to forward that paragraph on to every person blessed to have been born into a developed country and who wrongly believes that Africans are lazy, ignorant of the larger picture, and expect to be handed solutions to their problems.  It's Mr. Rugema's exact sentiment which explains why I can't seem to work anywhere besides Rwanda and why, if I'm lucky, I'll get to keep working here over a lifetime.

Rwanda's first media-fueled scandal (and why it's a good thing).

I was planning on saving this post for when I needed a ready-to-go subject to break a bout of writer's block, but given current events in the US, I think it's particularly topical. 

Back on one day in February, a ripple of astonishment and twitterpation spread throughout Rwanda.  Everyone was on their phones, discussing and confirming the hottest piece of gossip to come out Kigali in...well, maybe ever.  In a country whose history is tainted with horrific violence, what could possibly have gotten everyone so riled up?  I had heard bombings, murder, and genocide-talk discussed with less comment.

The story was that a political blog named Le Prophete, run by Rwandan dissidents in France (or Belgium, maybe), had released a scathing rant against the Government of Rwanda.  Their extremely long tirade essentially accused Paul Kagame's government of becoming corrupted, out of tune with the people of Rwanda, and leading fancy, lavish lives.  Their proof?  Photos of the Minister of Youth and Sports, Joseph Habineza, cavorting with young girls, none of whom were his wife.

Minister Habineza ended up stepping down a day after the photos hit the net.  I found many things about this story extremely interesting from a number of perspectives.

•  First and foremost, the fact that this scandal spread via the internet - with people emailing the blog address back and forth, using Skype to send copies of the pictures to office mates and discussing it all in a flurry on Facebook - says a lot about technology's growing importance in Rwanda.

• The bloggers who released the photos said that they were taken in 2008.  Presumably, this means that the photos were kept secret for almost THREE years before they were released at what the dissidents thought were a perfect time to do the most political damage.  Possibly unrelated, but the Minister gave a speech not two weeks earlier on Heroes Day which focused on finding ways to emulated "Rwandan dignity". 

• The writers of the blog wrote the text in Kinyarwanda, even though I would imagine that the majority of people accessing internet in Rwanda speak either English or French (not to mention the writers themselves, who live in francophone Europe).  My guess is that the writers' choice of Kinyarwanda was very purposeful.  Not only to appeal to the less-educated populace, but because Kinyarwanda is famous for its insinuative nature.  The language often cloaks deeper meaning in metaphors, and I suspect there were some pretty interesting messages sent under the radar in the text of the blog post.  (In early 1994, pro-genocide radio stations starting broadcasting messages about "cutting down the tall trees", a reference to Tutsis, historically taller than Hutus.  This is not to imply that the writers were one ethnicity or the other, simply that the language is often metaphorical.)

•  Was this a setup?  In some of the pictures, one of the smiling girls looks particularly gleeful (the one in long cornrows on the left in the picture above right).  Do they know what they're doing, or are they just having fun flirting with a Minister, oblivious to the fallout which would occur years later?  If it wasn't a setup, who leaked the pictures to the dissidents living in Europe?  Also, WHY THE HELL did Habineza let someone so blatantly take damning photos of him?  

• Even though the Minister was clearly not on his best church behavior, the accusations of him living it up in lavish style are far fetched.  All of the articles mentioning the scandal mentioned a "well-appointed" party room.  Let's look at this party room in closer detail.  For sure, this room is lavish when compared to the dirt floor shacks of many Rwandan farmers.  But let's be serious, this ain't the Mandarin Oriental.  Those couches are straight from China fake leather and the last time I checked, Drostdy-Hof isn't Moet.  Not to mention, if I read a review for a hotel that described itself as lavish, and THOSE were the curtains hanging up when I checked in, I would demand my money back.

Ruminations on the "meaning" of the scandal aside, I was actually sort of relieved at its fallout.  The Minister resigned, the world moved on.  To me, the whole thing signified that the Rwandan government was growing up.  Instead of stories about government-sponsored rape, true corruption, or voter fraud, a politician was embroiled in the most classic of downfalls - a good old fashioned sex(-ish) scandal.  A new Youth and Sports minister was appointed (hopefully with a little less interest in connecting with the "youth" part of his title) and the government kept it moving.  

Oh, and Mr. Habineza, if you happen to read this, take my advice - don't join Twitter.  "Spend more time" with your family instead.  Unless your wife happens to be dying of incurable cancer.  In that case, she probably doesn't want your toxic ass around her in her precious final days anyway.

Reminders and Updates

Hello all!  I have about seven weeks left before I head back to the States and I am making a real effort to post as often as possible.  There's a lot I hope to be able to write about and share before I get back to DC and I hope you'll tune in often!  A couple of updates and reminders:

• You'll notice at the bottom of each post is a line of icons which allow you to share that particular post with people you think might be interested in it.  You can easily pass on a link to that post via Gmail, Facebook, and Twitter.  I appreciate any and all publicity for the things I write here!
• If you prefer to receive blog posts as emails, you can enter your email address in the box to the right which reads "Tired of checking to see if I've posted?"  After submitting your email address, you'll get each new post delivered straight to your inbox.
• I love comments!  It takes me a long time to upload pictures to my blog (about 5 minutes or more for each picture), and I work really hard to find time to write.  I love it when people leave comments, even just so I know who's out there reading.
• You don't have to have a Google Account to comment.  After entering your comment in the "Post a comment" box, you can comment as "Name/URL" from the drop-down box and type in any name you like.  Easy peasy!
• Finally, the "Reactions" feedback tags at the bottom of each post really help me know what kinds of things people appreciate reading about.  It only takes one second to click one - try it out! 

I am thankful and humbled that you take time out to read the stuff I write here.  I hope to be able to provide lots more stuff before I change my current city on Facebook to "Washington, DC".  Love from Kigali.

The Humbling Power of Baby Formula

Perhaps one of the greatest benefits to living and working in a developing country is being humbled on a daily basis.

That picture is humbling.  It's a picture of baby Cedric back in April shortly after he came into our lives.  His mother was not mentally capable of caring for him and he was taken in by another woman in his community after she found him abandoned in a latrine.  His new mama fed him the only thing she could afford - cow's milk.  Of course, cow's milk does not have all the things that a two month old infant needs to grow.  His new mama brought him into my friends Julie (Country Director of Gardens for Health) and Brad's house because they are renowned in their local community for being able to help when help is most needed - for medicine, food, a quiet place to study, condoms.  Brad and Julie agreed to take him in (with the help of the many women who work with them) long enough to help get him healthy.

Cedric was declared malnourished by the public hospital in Kigali.  However, even after emergency high-nutrition milk and a lot of love, Cedric wasn't gaining weight.  Brad, a certified nurse, worried he might be displaying symptoms of Failure To Thrive - a not fully-understood condition in which children don't progress, often for unexplained reasons.  After a few weeks of non-improvement, Brad and Julie asked if I could help get Cedric admitted to Butaro Hospital, since I know many of the doctors who work there and could probably get them to give him special attention. 

A few days and a very long car ride later, Cedric was naked on a weighing scale in the intake room of the emergency ward at Butaro.  All his tests came back negative.  "He probably just needs more food, all the time," a mentor doctor from Harvard told me.  Two days later, Cedric was headed home.  Malnourished, but not sick, they said.  Partners in Health sent us on our way with three cans of baby formula and a promise that they would continue supplying Cedric with as much formula as he needed for as long as he needed it.

This is a photo of him taken about a week ago:

I can barely find the old stick skinny baby in the picture of this fatty.  When I hold him now, it's like someone sneaked into Brad and Julie's house and did a switcheroo in the middle of the night. 

Perhaps the most humbling thing about holding Cedric and thinking about his journey is not what he's already endured and survived in his very short life.  It's the road in front of him.  Although he's clearly significantly healthier, he has a long fight ahead.  His motor skills are much improved, but he still shows symptoms of possible palsy.  Given that his mother is mentally unsound, he could have inherited any number of genetic issues from her.  Since she didn't realize she was pregnant, she likely drank alcohol  while he was in utero.  And Brad and Julie won't be around forever.

But for now, he's thriving, and crying and sleeping and sweating and eating and pooting and smiling.  And the fact that he's around for any of that, is humbling.

Here Alex, I hope you're happy now.

A few months back, some friends who work for the US Embassy hosted a "Best and Worst of America" party in which we were all encouraged to dress up.  The hostesses themselves were super lame (sorry girls!) and just wore cheeky pro-gay marriage t-shirts.  There were, however, some fun tea-bagger costumes and I think I remember Sarah Palin making an appearance. 

Back in December when I was in the States, I had some post-Christmas money to burn at Sephora, the holy grail of makeup stores.  I bought some gold glitter gel eye liner, figuring I could use it at some point.  The Best and Worst of America party was my chance.  I decided to go as Ke$ha, that wonderful young woman who brought us American classics such as Tik Tok ("wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy, before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack") and Blah Blah Blah ("come put a little love in my glovebox"). 

If you're not familiar with Ke$ha's signature style of "crazy" - in which she tries overly-hard to convince you she's a Native American, drunk, high, hung-over, sleeping with a hobo, on meth, on coke, sleeping with your dad, etc. - let's just say it relies heavity on torn clothing, "morning after" hair, and glitter.  Lots of glitter.

This pretty much covers it all.

I'll admit it.  I kind of love Ke$ha.  Admittedly, she probably fell closer to the "worst" side of what America has to offer the world, but I can't really help myself.  She's not particularly talented, tries too hard, and her whole career is schtick, but she's a hell of a lot more fun than Paris Hilton or the Pussycat Dolls to dance to.  What can I say, I'm a sucker for mindless, well-done pop music.

In any case, here was my interpretation:

Apologies to Cher-Wen for having to be beside me in this picture

If you're curious about what I'm holding in my hand there, it's a bottle of Maker's Mark whiskey re-purposed to look like a bottle of Jack Daniels with a toothbrush taped to the side.  (Get it?  Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack.  GET IT?!)

Let's just say that....most people at the party were not dressed up like me.  I clearly had gone all out.  It was worth it though - getting to act like a complete asshole for the night was fun.  I get requests to bring this costume back almost every weekend. 

In all seriousness though, I could have written an A+ paper in college dissecting Ke$ha's resistance to the Male Gaze often portrayed in today's popular music videos by likewise objectifying men throughout the song:

 "I don't really care where you live at / just turn around boy / let me hit that / don't be a little bitch  with your chit-chat / just show me where your d*ck's at."

My favorite sentiment in the song, however, and perhaps the reason I love Ke$ha so much comes from this one line in Blah Blah Blah.  It echoes the exact feeling I've had so many Friday nights out on the dancefloor when men decide they really need to take the very moment you've finally let the week go to ask about where you're from and how you like DC:

"Music's up / listen hot stuff / I'm in love with this song / so just hush / baby shut up / heard enough."

A trip to Swahili-land - Part 1

After months of planning, looking up hotel reviews on painfully slow internet, working three jobs, waiting, thinking longingly about seafood, and approximately a hundred emails later, Alex came to visit me at the end of May.  He was a superstar (read: nutjob) and ran the Kigali half-marathon with me about 18 hours after stepping off the plane (a separate post on that later).  We took a mini-safari in eastern Rwanda and then spent a day roaming the hills of the north where I work.  And then, we set off for Zanzibar. 

Zanzibar.  A name filled with mystery and exoticism, just waiting to be culturally appropriated by white tourists from Europe and the States.  Representing the "zan" in Tanzania, Zanzibar island sits off the northern coast of mainland Tanganika (the "tan" in Tanzania).  Best known historically for its Swahili culture - a mix of African and Arabic traditions - Zanzibar has been used for many hundreds of years as a trading hub between the two worlds.  In the 1600's, the Sultan of Oman moved the capital of the empire to Zanzibar and started up a spice trade, importing plants and starting up plantations.  To this day, spices are Zanzibar's largest export.

Coconut trees on a spice farm tour

"Lipstick tree" seed pod

The juice is used as a food and lip dye.

On our requisite tourist activity Spice Tour, our guides must have shown us 25 different spices trees and fruits - cinnamon, vanilla, coffee, starfruit, cocoa, nutmeg, coconut, cloves.

Fresh mace which encases the nutmeg

 We flew from Kigali (at 3am, with a lovely early-morning layover in Nairobi) into Stone Town, the "capital" of Zanzibar and its traditional hub of trading activity.  I was immediately reminded of Venice, Italy (also a historical trade hub and cultural mixing ground), where I had visited with my mother almost exactly a year before.  Stone was by far the most common building material and whole place just had a feeling of "old".  We checked into our hotel and were immediately upgraded to their executive suite.  Sweet! At that moment, I was really glad I'd decided to book the overnight flight from Kigali, because we must have been the first couple to check in that day.

Traditional Swahili style

Open-air shower

View from our room onto the Indian Ocean

The hotel was absolutely wonderful - full of old Arabic and African items (my favorite was an old Swahili swinging crib made of dark wood) and boasted an interior open-air courtyard with pool.  We never made it into the pool, but it was nice to look at.

By far my favorite aspect of our time in Stone Town (besides the fact that people loved calling Alex "rasta man" when in his button-down shirts, he was obviously about as far from rasta as you can get) was the architecture.  Stone Town is one of UNESCO's World Heritage Sites (primarily for its "outstanding material manifestation of cultural fusion and harmonization"), but I was surprised at how little real preservation has gone on.  I suppose you could argue that this simply reflects the fact that Stone Town is not a relic, but a still-living, breathing, working town.  Still, I couldn't help but wonder about what the state of it will be like in 50 or 100 years. 

It was clear that in its heyday of spice and slave trading, sultan-ism, and cultural fusion-ism, Stone Town was a wonderfully fantastic site.  Wealthy men owned entire multi-story buildings and were responsible for their upkeep.  I can't tell you how many times, on our trip, I'd look into what clearly used to be a breathtaking building, only to see ruin and disrepair inside.  I suppose when you no longer have a slave trade to support massive single family dwellings and those buildings get split up between multiple families, no one is charged with keeping the place up as a whole.  I'm not sure how you could manage to restore Stone Town to it's former glory without creating Arabic Disney world and kicking out all the locals in order to revamp their houses into hotels for foreigners.

Zanz is 95% Muslim - I kept my legs and shoulders covered in Stone Town

Perhaps the most well-known architectural hallmark of Stone Town is its doors. Traditionally a sign of wealth, many of the most impressive doors have been sold to collectors around the world.  I can understand why - they're absolutely gorgeous.  I'm a sucker for Arabic and Islamic artistic influence - somehow simple and intricate at the same time.

Much of our time in Stone Town was spent wandering around, taking pictures, enjoying fresh juice smoothies, exploring down alleyways, and poking our heads into touristy shops filled with much of the same schlock you'll find anywhere in East Africa.  A particular highlight was Forodhani Gardens at night - an open air seafood market filled to the brim with fisherman and their fresh catch of the day.  That was such an amazing experience it deserves a post of its own.  So for now, I'll leave you with the rest of the best of Stone Town.

Inside the sultan's wife's private bath

I decided I didn't need a shower.

No explanation needed.  One of my faves.

On the street

And finally, just because he will kill me, I would like to present Alex in his best spice formal-wear.

Corporate spice trading-ready.

Stay tuned for posts on the seafood market at Forodhani gardens, the rest of our trip, and the half marathon!

Photo of the Week

I have been SO bad with keeping up with thisaintnosafari I am ASHAMED!  I have so much to write about, and so much to do for work, and only EIGHT weeks to get it all in!  By hook or by crook (what does that even mean?), I will write here.  Probably tomorrow.  Or Thursday.  Until then, here's a picture I took from our hotel room in a recent trip to Zanzibar.

Shout-out of the Week: Angels Among Us

This week's Shout-out goes to my good friend Brad Snyder whose protracted journey to accompany Akaliza - a Rwandan orphan with a congenital heart defect - to the United States for surgery, was covered by the Chicago Tribune recently.  Brad is one of the most genuine and thoughtful people I've ever met and his ability to care about the plight of those less fortunate is amazing to watch.  Brad is the kind of person who gives and gives, even when he doesn't have much left over for himself, as you'll read in the article that covers December's harrowing journey.

Too long.

It's been seven weeks since I last updated This Aint No Safari.  In that time, my mom and aunt came to visit, I got slammed at work, and then started the long process of job searching.  I've been busy, that's for sure.  But with fewer than four months left in Rwanda before I head back to whatever awaits me in the States, I've got to get some ideas and memories down here.  So stay tuned for updates real soon!

Here's something to get us started.

Daisies with Virunga Mountains

Almost time.

Christmas was a toned-down affair at our house this year, at least in terms of gift giving.  Drinking, eating, and general revelry was a different thing altogether.  As my final gift, my mother gave me an amaryllis bulb with a note which said her big present to me would be her visit in March.  The note also said it would take 8 - 9 weeks for the bulb to bloom, the same amount of time until she'd arrive in Rwanda.  Clearly, I'm a little too excited about her visit, because it bloomed early!  Mom and her sister, my Aunt Joan, arrive in exactly two weeks.  I can't wait; it's going to be so much fun!

Almost six years ago, in 2005 when I landed in Kigali for the first time, I would have never, ever guessed that I'd keep coming back to this wonderful country, and that one day I'd get to show it to the people I love.

The much-famed Butaro Hospital.

In writing about work, I have often mentioned Butaro Hospital, Burera's district hospital which, until about a month ago, had been under construction.  The hospital, built by Partners in Health and designed by MASS Design Group , is big news in Rwanda.  It's the first hospital in the country (and probably in the entire region) designed from the ground up with the quality of patient care and the patient's experience in mind.  It was inaugurated by President Paul Kagame on January 24th, and I was lucky enough to get to be there (I've been working with the pharmacy during their transition from the old site to the new, shiny location).  A post specifically on the inauguration event will follow.

I'll let the professionals who have written news items give the back story and a lot of the details.  The South African Times put out an in-depth and well-written article about the hospital.  I really suggest you read it.  The New Times in Rwanda wrote a more brief article concerning the recent inauguration.  Partners in Health also has a fantastic write up as well as a slideshow with some truly stunning photos that I did not have the talent or the access to present to you myself.

If you don't have the time or the inclination to read any of the above articles (although you really should find the time), I will at least set the stage by saying that before Butaro Hospital, the district of Burera did not have a hospital nor a single doctor for its more than 400,000 residents, some of the poorest in an already poor country.  When Peter Drobac, the country director for Partners in Health Rwanda, was quoted in the South African Times article as saying "Butaro is an allegory for the rebirth of Rwanda itself", I don't feel like he's exaggerating.  Built on a former military base with some of the most incredible views in the district, Butaro really might turn out to be "Rwanda's Medical Miracle".

(As always, you can click on the pictures for larger versions)

 

This is the ambulance entrance, allowing emergency vehicles to pull directly up to the emergency room and operating theatres.  There are two operation rooms in the hospital.

You can immediately see that this hospital, while located in one of the most remote areas of the country, has a modern and aesthetic design.  The hospital was constructed entirely by hand using local labor and local materials (that's volcanic rock you see).  Over three thousand jobs were created for local citizens during its construction, giving people not only a source of income, but skills to gain employment in the future as well.

Creating a visually appealing and calm space was of paramount importance to the designers.  This tree, obviously original to the site, was saved by meticulously digging around its root system.  The site was originally at the level of the ground immediately around the tree - the rest was dug out.

Each ward is color-coded to facilitate patient flow and the ability for illiterate patients and family members to find their way around the hospital.  It's done in America all the time, but this kind of purposefulness in design, as it relates to the patient's experience, is unheard of in Rwanda.  Note that the Women's Ward is coded in orange...

...and also painted orange in the ward itself.  The beds you see, although simple by western standards, have the ability to elevate the patient's head and also have storage space built in, to help keep the ward more organized. 

It might surprise you to find out that hospitals and health centers rarely provide mosquito nets for patients to sleep under.  Although Burera is, in general, too cold to worry much about mosquitos, I think any self-respecting health institution should provide them just in case, as well as set the standard for practices we expect local people to follow.  It might also surprise to you know that the presence of clean sheets, blankets, and pillows, is also a bit of an anomaly.  Hospitals and health centers rarely have the money to provide complete bedding for patients (or the capacity to wash bedding once its used).  Some hospitals have even been known to RENT bedding during national assessments, and then return the bedding after the inspectors have left. 

It should also be mentioned that each bed has its own connection for oxygen, and the hospital has its own oxygen concentrator, so it doesn't have to transport oxygen tanks from Kigali.

While we're inside a ward, let's see what else is there.

These big ass fans are conveniently made by the company Big Ass Fans.  They spin at low velocities, but move large amounts of air to facilitate air transfer within the ward.  Not only in Africa, but all across the world, the issue of patients getting sick from air contaminated by other patients is a serious issue.  Tuberculosis and other air-borne diseases are present in Rwanda, and it's important to make sure that stale, contaminated air doesn't sit around, but rather flows back out of the ward.

Patients, who normally wear their own clothes during hospital stays, are given clean gowns/scrubs to wear at Butaro.  This makes it easier to figure out who is a patient, and keeps the wards smelling fresher and looking more professional.

Personally, my favorite ward feature are these awesome med carts, which I can say with confidence are likely the only ones existing in Rwanda outside of Kigali's private hospital, King Faisal.  I've gotten to design how these will be used (the small drawers you see on the front correspond to a patient bed) and they're an integral part of the patient medicine distribution and recording system we're putting into place.  These help us limit the number and quantity of drugs present in the wards to only those which are needed by the inpatients currently admitted.  In the hospital's old location, the internal medicine ward kept over 150 different drugs stocked on the ward at all times.  Now, we've limited that number to about 20 emergency injectables, in addition to the limited number of pills needed for the patients' regular prescriptions mentioned before.

 

Paul Farmer, founder of Partners In Health and one of my personal heroes, is known for liking ponds.  There are four different ones located throughout the hospital.

This general gathering area (veranda?) has a fantastic view, as does the patio outside of the laboring women's ward.  Perhaps I'll come here several days before my first due date just to wander around, look at Rwanda's beautiful scenery, and attempt to get the kid to drop.

This is a highly boring photo, but show Butaro's own personal cell phone tower.  We get impeccable cell phone service, as well as decently fast wireless internet thanks to the hospital's tower.  The hospital itself is wireless throughout, and each service has their own laptop, another integral part of the medicine organization and recording system we're putting into place.

I'll close with a picture of my favorite part of the whole hospital. 

It might seem a bit excessive to spend extra money building a children's play area, especially when there are so many other places you could put the cash.  However, when you consider the play rooms in hospitals in the States, full to the brim with books, toys, PlayStations and the like, it seems ludicrous that you'd NOT put in a place for fun and laughter for children when designing a hospital with the patient experience in mind. 

That's the thing that I love about getting to work at Butaro hospital.  It's not an example of what every hospital in Rwanda or the East African region will be, but rather what can and should be possible.

Finally, one of my favorite quotes from Paul Farmer himself:

"It's embarrassing that piddly little projects like ours should serve as exemplars. It's only because other people haven't been doing their jobs."