Come November, when my visa expires, I'm leaving. If I could take the kids, the team and the centre and relocate in Uganda for example, and get a work visa I’d be in seventh heaven. But I can’t so now that the centre is set up and the programme is running smoothly, I’m going to step away before I crack and find myself unable to make a positive contribution.
I can’t deal with the thundering church opposite waking me up at 5am everyday and continuing through the day and evening. I've grown tired of the prejudices, insincerity, dependency, hostility and apathy of some of the Rwandans who make life and work such a challenge. I can’t deal with dodging the authorities for any longer on a tourist visa because the promised work visas haven't materialised.
I can’t deal with the thundering church opposite waking me up at 5am everyday and continuing through the day and evening. I've grown tired of the prejudices, insincerity, dependency, hostility and apathy of some of the Rwandans who make life and work such a challenge. I can’t deal with dodging the authorities for any longer on a tourist visa because the promised work visas haven't materialised.
And then there's my relationship with Mark and Naomi. That's a whole other story... I have such conflicted views about them, just like Rwanda. Their commitment and vision that got this organisation up and running is inspiring. But some issues never get resolved, like the finances, the work visas, how much we're trying to do. They have what must seem like the weight of the world on their shoulders - they're now responsible for 120+ kids - and are completely burnt out. I mean really, really burnt out. Both of them weigh 7 - 7 1/2 stone, Mark's been sick a lot, Naomi's pregnant on top of it. When we have differences in opinion about the way forward, it's just aggravated by the fact we're all exhausted and so passionate about the work.
You have to live in Rwanda, to work with and through Rwandans, to live in the community with them, to understand its pressures. It’s not like any other place in Africa or elsewhere in the world where I have lived or travelled. It’s a beautiful, beautiful country but the culture is just difficult to deal with. Life in Save was easier and of course I had all the perks of being a VSO that make volunteering seem like a holiday by comparison – long paid holidays, mid service grants, flights, insurance etc. You have to make allowances, to accept that some of the challenges are the result of the context. People are self interested and looking for a handout because there is dire poverty and dire poverty leaves you run down and desperate. People appear insincere because the genocide has on the one hand made people very distrustful and guarded, and on the other hand made every desperate to appear to be everyone's friend. And I've been one of only two white people living here so their opinions and understanding of me are probably as ignorant as my opinions and understanding of them. But sadly its often not the poorest or least worldly and educated that make life hard. Often the reverse is true. And these are not observations exclusive to outsiders. You hear these observations from Rwandans too.
Teaching just doesn’t compare to this role in terms of how you are forced to confront and explore the culture and values. Here they’re in your face, they create the challenges you’re trying to overcome, they’re part of your work, and they create barriers, undermine or outright prevent steps forward being made. You have the community judging you and your work on a daily basis, often with ignorance, prejudice, arrogance and down right spite.
The job is tougher but it’s not that that’s the problem. The other things just sap the strength from you to deal with the toughness. Apparently at the VSO returnees conference it’s clear that there’s something very different about postings in Rwanda.
And it runs right through other organisations. Rwanda’s one of a handful of first placing ‘hardship’ countries for Red Cross workers, just like the first army posting used to be Northern Ireland.
It’s awful to generalise about people here but increasingly I find myself doing it. And I’m not alone. The Rwandans I work with, remarkably and encouragingly, see most of the cultural problems too and are literally emotionally burdened by them, and plead with me not to allow a Rwandan to be appointed as my successor.
It’s this sort of thing that often leaves you feeling like it’s all futile, all hopeless, all unsustainable – how can our work achieve its goals when the community at large lacks compassion, empathy, support and the capacity to provide enough positive role models for the boys.
It’s sad that in a job where you see so many positive things – the children learning, the children getting opportunities, the children responding to love, encouragement and support, the children no longer living in fear, the children developing a sense of solidarity, the children’s self confidence and pride growing, the children being children, the children beginning to think beyond today and tomorrow, the staff showing that there are some incredible, inspiring compassionate people here – that you can be knocked down by the world outside the centre. But that’s the world they live in, that they’re part of so it’s not possible to isolate ourselves.
Maybe without the other frustrations - the church, the absence of ceilings in the centre, the worry over work visas etc – I could have found the strength to do this for longer but I haven’t had that luxury…
And it's sad too that I’m leaving but the kids and staff have not contributed to this frustration one bit. You expect problems with the kids and you’re forgiving of that. And my God, we've had problems. Boys stealing from us, boys abusing staff, boys rebelling... Sometimes I don’t feel like I have any of the answers to their problems, but life with them is far easier and less problematic than I ever expected. They are awesome… That’s the hardest thing and the thing that gives me sleepless nights – I feel so guilty about leaving the kids and so bitter towards the things that are pushing me away from them.
This constant sense of being torn between a sense of despair and intense frustration and hope and belief, is perhaps why I haven’t approached any of you to ask if you’d like to contribute in any way to the project. But I do believe in what we’re doing, we’re definitely making a difference right now to the kids lives and it’s better we’re here than not.
It will have been a long hard and incredibly rewarding five months, five months that have perhaps been the best and definitely the most significant and rewarding of my life. Five months which probably equate to twelve months. The centre is looking great, the boys are making great progress, there’s a great atmosphere at the centre, the programme is developing down some interesting avenues, the financial systems are much improved, we’ve had so many visitors and everyone has expressed sincere amazement at what’s been achieved and what’s happening…
I’ve made a contribution to something important, made a brief but hopefully positive appearance in the lives of children who deserve so much more than the cards life’s dealt them so far, and I’ll leave something tangible and an impact I’m proud of. It’s what life should be all about. It’s more than I could have ever expected last May when I was packing up my house...
So, it’s another unpredictable twist in my life and I feel a little lost, torn and bitter but I’m sure I’ll find my feet. Although I’d have lasted longer in Save and although it’s not worked out as I hoped it would, I’d make the same decision again because it’s been phenomenal. I’ll do this myself one day, somewhere where the community and culture promises to embrace it and take ownership of it...
You have to live in Rwanda, to work with and through Rwandans, to live in the community with them, to understand its pressures. It’s not like any other place in Africa or elsewhere in the world where I have lived or travelled. It’s a beautiful, beautiful country but the culture is just difficult to deal with. Life in Save was easier and of course I had all the perks of being a VSO that make volunteering seem like a holiday by comparison – long paid holidays, mid service grants, flights, insurance etc. You have to make allowances, to accept that some of the challenges are the result of the context. People are self interested and looking for a handout because there is dire poverty and dire poverty leaves you run down and desperate. People appear insincere because the genocide has on the one hand made people very distrustful and guarded, and on the other hand made every desperate to appear to be everyone's friend. And I've been one of only two white people living here so their opinions and understanding of me are probably as ignorant as my opinions and understanding of them. But sadly its often not the poorest or least worldly and educated that make life hard. Often the reverse is true. And these are not observations exclusive to outsiders. You hear these observations from Rwandans too.
Teaching just doesn’t compare to this role in terms of how you are forced to confront and explore the culture and values. Here they’re in your face, they create the challenges you’re trying to overcome, they’re part of your work, and they create barriers, undermine or outright prevent steps forward being made. You have the community judging you and your work on a daily basis, often with ignorance, prejudice, arrogance and down right spite.
The job is tougher but it’s not that that’s the problem. The other things just sap the strength from you to deal with the toughness. Apparently at the VSO returnees conference it’s clear that there’s something very different about postings in Rwanda.
And it runs right through other organisations. Rwanda’s one of a handful of first placing ‘hardship’ countries for Red Cross workers, just like the first army posting used to be Northern Ireland.
It’s awful to generalise about people here but increasingly I find myself doing it. And I’m not alone. The Rwandans I work with, remarkably and encouragingly, see most of the cultural problems too and are literally emotionally burdened by them, and plead with me not to allow a Rwandan to be appointed as my successor.
It’s this sort of thing that often leaves you feeling like it’s all futile, all hopeless, all unsustainable – how can our work achieve its goals when the community at large lacks compassion, empathy, support and the capacity to provide enough positive role models for the boys.
It’s sad that in a job where you see so many positive things – the children learning, the children getting opportunities, the children responding to love, encouragement and support, the children no longer living in fear, the children developing a sense of solidarity, the children’s self confidence and pride growing, the children being children, the children beginning to think beyond today and tomorrow, the staff showing that there are some incredible, inspiring compassionate people here – that you can be knocked down by the world outside the centre. But that’s the world they live in, that they’re part of so it’s not possible to isolate ourselves.
Maybe without the other frustrations - the church, the absence of ceilings in the centre, the worry over work visas etc – I could have found the strength to do this for longer but I haven’t had that luxury…
And it's sad too that I’m leaving but the kids and staff have not contributed to this frustration one bit. You expect problems with the kids and you’re forgiving of that. And my God, we've had problems. Boys stealing from us, boys abusing staff, boys rebelling... Sometimes I don’t feel like I have any of the answers to their problems, but life with them is far easier and less problematic than I ever expected. They are awesome… That’s the hardest thing and the thing that gives me sleepless nights – I feel so guilty about leaving the kids and so bitter towards the things that are pushing me away from them.
This constant sense of being torn between a sense of despair and intense frustration and hope and belief, is perhaps why I haven’t approached any of you to ask if you’d like to contribute in any way to the project. But I do believe in what we’re doing, we’re definitely making a difference right now to the kids lives and it’s better we’re here than not.
It will have been a long hard and incredibly rewarding five months, five months that have perhaps been the best and definitely the most significant and rewarding of my life. Five months which probably equate to twelve months. The centre is looking great, the boys are making great progress, there’s a great atmosphere at the centre, the programme is developing down some interesting avenues, the financial systems are much improved, we’ve had so many visitors and everyone has expressed sincere amazement at what’s been achieved and what’s happening…
I’ve made a contribution to something important, made a brief but hopefully positive appearance in the lives of children who deserve so much more than the cards life’s dealt them so far, and I’ll leave something tangible and an impact I’m proud of. It’s what life should be all about. It’s more than I could have ever expected last May when I was packing up my house...
So, it’s another unpredictable twist in my life and I feel a little lost, torn and bitter but I’m sure I’ll find my feet. Although I’d have lasted longer in Save and although it’s not worked out as I hoped it would, I’d make the same decision again because it’s been phenomenal. I’ll do this myself one day, somewhere where the community and culture promises to embrace it and take ownership of it...
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