I'm sitting at a coffee shop in Kampala, Uganda, thinking about how epic this experience is. I just met with a Ugandan businessman and two guys from Texas who've started a business/training organization here in Kampala. We talked all about economic development in Uganda: opportunities, challenges, visions for our organizations, etc. It was very interesting and informative. A year ago I would have never imagined I would be here having these conversations, thinking critically and consequentially about how to move forward in economic development in Africa. I love it.
Kampala is a wonderful city, too. Its SO much more vibrant and active than Kigali, and there's much more to do and see and buy. I negotiated for a bicycle yesterday--a ten-year old Specialized Rockhopper fresh from Europe. The main downside of being in Kampala is that people are less apologetic about screwing over white people on taxis and motos. Its not a huge deal since I'm getting per diem traveling for work, and transport prices are a bit cheaper than Kigali anyway, but the principle is still discouraging.
In short, I'm absolutely loving my time in Kampala. It is helping me to see how incredible this overall experience is and how blessed I am to be experiencing it. Come visit and I'll share it more with you.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Housemate Switcheroo
Above is a picture of me and my roommates. From the left are Seng, Jen, Lisa and Sam. Seng and Jen are married from Seattle and work for Food for the Hungry. Lisa worked for Adventist Development and Relief Agency and is a Canadian with a British accent who has lived a lot of her life in the US, or something like that. She left us a couple weeks ago after spending nine months in Rwanda, and there was a gaping hole in the dynamics of the house...until we found our new housemate....
A Puppy! Her name is the name of a Latin American fruit, Chirimoya, nickname Chi Chi. Seng chose her name because its his first dog to ever own. She came from a litter produced by our country director's dogs. She's a pure African mut. Its my first dog since Spot, a beagle I had when I was three that loved chasing oppossums. Chi Chi loves chasing feet and trouser legs and pees on the porch every night. She's quite adorable, but she's got a long way to go before she can drink coffee and hold a conversation at the same time on a calm Saturday morning. Until that happens, Lisa will be missed.
Trip to Uganda
I'll be traveling to Kampala, Uganda at 6:00am this Sunday, April 20, and I'll be there for a week working to pull together some opportunities for economic development up there. I'm going with Rich Smyth, Managing Director of Rwanda Meat Suppliers, the pork slaughterhouse we started. We'll be exploring the possibility of sending a truckload of pork to Kampala once a month or so, as well as finding out what FH beneficiary communities may be producing that has a market in Rwanda for the monthly trip back. We'll also be investigating the feasibility of setting up chicken egg incubation systems and honey production. Its all fascinating stuff that I never imagined I'd be legitimately investigating. But "whether you eat or drink [or analyze the central sub-Saharan Africa pork industry] or whatever you do, do all for the glory of God."
Kampala is about an eight hour drive from Kigali, and as soon as we cross the border into Uganda, we switch sides of the road. Rwanda drives on the right side and Uganda drives on the wrong [left] side. I'm glad I'm not driving.
Work
My job is getting increasingly busy and awesome. Rwanda Meat Suppliers (RMS) is scheduled to slaughter its first pig this coming Monday, the first of hopefully over 6,000 hogs in the first year of operations. This will equate to almost $400,000 going into the hands of rural pig farmers, creating an average income increase of about $400 per farming family in the first year, which would probably double or triple many of their current annual wages.
And we've recently won a government contract to manage a water treatment and distribution system that will provide clean water to 120,000 households in the Southern Province. This is a 15-year contract that will produce over $1 million a year for FH/ProCom, while providing quality, clean water to the public for 3 cents/jerry can (20 liters).
We're making plans to expand RMS to two slaughterhouses and a much more formal distribution channel by the end of the year. We're also looking into honey and chicken production, importing flash drives and other technology equipment and exporting handicrafts, among other things. Things are moving forward, sometimes too quickly to stay up with, but its really exciting and encouraging to see the possibilities that await us and the communities we are working with.
Kampala is about an eight hour drive from Kigali, and as soon as we cross the border into Uganda, we switch sides of the road. Rwanda drives on the right side and Uganda drives on the wrong [left] side. I'm glad I'm not driving.
Work
My job is getting increasingly busy and awesome. Rwanda Meat Suppliers (RMS) is scheduled to slaughter its first pig this coming Monday, the first of hopefully over 6,000 hogs in the first year of operations. This will equate to almost $400,000 going into the hands of rural pig farmers, creating an average income increase of about $400 per farming family in the first year, which would probably double or triple many of their current annual wages.
And we've recently won a government contract to manage a water treatment and distribution system that will provide clean water to 120,000 households in the Southern Province. This is a 15-year contract that will produce over $1 million a year for FH/ProCom, while providing quality, clean water to the public for 3 cents/jerry can (20 liters).
We're making plans to expand RMS to two slaughterhouses and a much more formal distribution channel by the end of the year. We're also looking into honey and chicken production, importing flash drives and other technology equipment and exporting handicrafts, among other things. Things are moving forward, sometimes too quickly to stay up with, but its really exciting and encouraging to see the possibilities that await us and the communities we are working with.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Genocide Memorial Week
On the night of April 6, 1994, the airplane carrying the Rwandan president was shot down as it landed at the Kigali International Airport in Rwanda. Then, as the Hutu Power party took over, a genocide ensued that left over 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus dead. This week marks the fourteenth anniversary of its beginning, and the entire country is in a state of mourning.
The genocide in Rwanda was by no means a simple event. The more I read and watch and listen to about it, the more baffling it becomes. It was completely chaotic and yet meticulously planned. People who had given their sons and daughters in marriage to neighbors suddenly turned on them and slaughtered them with robot-like obedience to the Hutu Power's orders. There were unlikely villains, like the church pastors who oversaw the deaths of tens of thousands who sought refuge in their churches, and unlikely heros, like Paul Rusesabagina, who used his influence to save 1,200 people who sought refuge in the Hotel Mille Colline. The international community made a resolution after World War II that obligated them to act in face of genocide so as to prevent another holocaust from ever happening again, and then they fumbled for two months trying to avoid the use of the word so they wouldn't have to intervene.
Pretty much every Rwandan alive in 1994 has a story of incredible trauma following them around for the rest of their life. Whether their whole family was killed or their father is in prison for killing, there is no one here left untouched by the horrors of that spring and summer.
We, along with the rest of the country, got the day off work on Monday, as April 7 marks the official beginning of the genocide. As ex-pats we were told to just lay low and not look too happy if we went outside, for fear of being disrespectful and offending people who are allowing themselves to fully mourn. Many people just leave the country for the week, because its pretty eerie and most businesses close after lunch anyway. I was at my friend Lindsay's house on Monday morning, sitting on the porch drinking coffee and playing with her new puppy, when we heard some kids yelling in our direction and barking at the dog. We looked around for a minute and spotted two or three children in a tree across the street peering over her fence, trying to get a good look at her puppy. After a few more minutes, enough of a ruckus was made that about seven kids gathered outside her gate making whiny dog noises, so Lindsay took Tub Tub (it's a pudgy little dog) outside the gate and introduced her to the neighborhood. The kids had an absolute ball playing with Tub Tub, but I couldn't help but feel like I was slapping the whole country in the face by being happy and encouraging kids to play around on that day. Older people walked by and I couldn't help imagining that they felt we were somehow disregarding the meaning of that day and teaching the younger generation to do the same.
After a few minutes of Tub Tub being harassed by the kids, we took her inside, then shortly after I walked home, still confused and worried that the we'd lost credibility with the community we live in.
I spent a lot of the day trying to make sense of that encounter. Based on what a lot of people had advised concerning that day, I was worried that I'd be written off as an insensitive foreigner who cares nothing about the plight of the country. But then I realized something pretty incredible......these kids didn't experience the horrors of the genocide. They didn't grow up being called "cockroach," nor have they grown up being told that their neighbors were lesser human beings, worthy of extermination. The baggage of the genocide that they carry is largely from their parents, and though Rwanda still has many years before full healing and recovery take place, I saw Monday that a good place to start may be with those kids, who aren't plagued with horrible images of their family being slaughtered, who are part of the first generation in Rwanda that even has a chance at achieving universal primary education, and who, on days they get off from school for whatever reason, want to play outside just like any kid anywhere, kicking soccer balls, climbing in trees, and chasing the neighbor's puppy.
There is definitely a time for somber remembrance, and I don't want to downplay the importance of this week in Rwanda. But there is also a time for simple child-like joy, and I saw on Monday that in Rwanda, the two times do not oppose one another. They are both part of the delicate balance of not only appropriately remembering the past, but also realizing the brightness of the future. And in Rwanda, the hope of the future shines like the morning sun.
The genocide in Rwanda was by no means a simple event. The more I read and watch and listen to about it, the more baffling it becomes. It was completely chaotic and yet meticulously planned. People who had given their sons and daughters in marriage to neighbors suddenly turned on them and slaughtered them with robot-like obedience to the Hutu Power's orders. There were unlikely villains, like the church pastors who oversaw the deaths of tens of thousands who sought refuge in their churches, and unlikely heros, like Paul Rusesabagina, who used his influence to save 1,200 people who sought refuge in the Hotel Mille Colline. The international community made a resolution after World War II that obligated them to act in face of genocide so as to prevent another holocaust from ever happening again, and then they fumbled for two months trying to avoid the use of the word so they wouldn't have to intervene.
Pretty much every Rwandan alive in 1994 has a story of incredible trauma following them around for the rest of their life. Whether their whole family was killed or their father is in prison for killing, there is no one here left untouched by the horrors of that spring and summer.
We, along with the rest of the country, got the day off work on Monday, as April 7 marks the official beginning of the genocide. As ex-pats we were told to just lay low and not look too happy if we went outside, for fear of being disrespectful and offending people who are allowing themselves to fully mourn. Many people just leave the country for the week, because its pretty eerie and most businesses close after lunch anyway. I was at my friend Lindsay's house on Monday morning, sitting on the porch drinking coffee and playing with her new puppy, when we heard some kids yelling in our direction and barking at the dog. We looked around for a minute and spotted two or three children in a tree across the street peering over her fence, trying to get a good look at her puppy. After a few more minutes, enough of a ruckus was made that about seven kids gathered outside her gate making whiny dog noises, so Lindsay took Tub Tub (it's a pudgy little dog) outside the gate and introduced her to the neighborhood. The kids had an absolute ball playing with Tub Tub, but I couldn't help but feel like I was slapping the whole country in the face by being happy and encouraging kids to play around on that day. Older people walked by and I couldn't help imagining that they felt we were somehow disregarding the meaning of that day and teaching the younger generation to do the same.
After a few minutes of Tub Tub being harassed by the kids, we took her inside, then shortly after I walked home, still confused and worried that the we'd lost credibility with the community we live in.
I spent a lot of the day trying to make sense of that encounter. Based on what a lot of people had advised concerning that day, I was worried that I'd be written off as an insensitive foreigner who cares nothing about the plight of the country. But then I realized something pretty incredible......these kids didn't experience the horrors of the genocide. They didn't grow up being called "cockroach," nor have they grown up being told that their neighbors were lesser human beings, worthy of extermination. The baggage of the genocide that they carry is largely from their parents, and though Rwanda still has many years before full healing and recovery take place, I saw Monday that a good place to start may be with those kids, who aren't plagued with horrible images of their family being slaughtered, who are part of the first generation in Rwanda that even has a chance at achieving universal primary education, and who, on days they get off from school for whatever reason, want to play outside just like any kid anywhere, kicking soccer balls, climbing in trees, and chasing the neighbor's puppy.
There is definitely a time for somber remembrance, and I don't want to downplay the importance of this week in Rwanda. But there is also a time for simple child-like joy, and I saw on Monday that in Rwanda, the two times do not oppose one another. They are both part of the delicate balance of not only appropriately remembering the past, but also realizing the brightness of the future. And in Rwanda, the hope of the future shines like the morning sun.
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