Founder's Corner

Wednesday, February twelfth.

We meet first thing in the morning with our staff. It is like being the director of an orchestra. The guys we have are young, eager, tireless, enthusiastic, and for the most part, exciting work with. Having a good staff was one of my big concerns.

An early daily ritual is the morning shower. No hot water because we do not fire up the wood burner in the back. Two years ago I would strip on the side porch after dark, stand to the side of a two gallon basin with hot water and take a sponge bath. Now I strip, turn the water on and just look at it for a couple moments, finally tentatively and carefully, I put my head forward and get my hair wet. Several drops hit my shoulders. Meanwhile, my head is washed, arms and I have soap on my body, and the big move has to be made. With a sharp intake of breath, the immersion is completed for the day. In four more days I will enjoy one of the wonders of the Western world…a hot shower. Keith and Janet arrived an hour late. Pete and Dave returned from Uganda. They got their 90 visas.

Thursday, February thirteenth.

Janet, Keith, Jim, and I went together and did a swing around the Kibuye Prefecture. Still, very few NGO and staff around. Everything appears calm and quiet. ICRC was constructing a brick wall around their compound. UNHCR was riding in a convoy of five cars with military in front and back. We had no incidents and felt quite good about our progress and plans for the future. In the evening we had a telephone conversation between ourselves and the US home office agreeing to continue the program under certain restrictions and changes. A long day but rewarding. I am seeing, feeling, and anticipating coming HOME. Love you babe. Thanks for loving me, praying, and the freedom to do this kind of work and living this kind of life.

Friday, February fourteenth.

Orientation of Janet was the focus today. Right off I asked her to drive. If she could handle the driving on the left I knew she would do great. She did it like a trooper. We stopped at Chillington – supplier of hoes, Trama – Local transport hauler, Albert – Indian broker for NGO supplies, Alfred – Swedish Pentecostal Mission and colleagues, and several others. We ended at Food for the Hungry. They have sent fifty percent of their staff home. One of their houses had a break in. Nothing personal or related to the military so much as reflective of the life and times in Rwanda.

We ended the day in Kigale with a security meeting for Americans at the American Club headed by the Ambassador. Usually these meetings make me feel insecure. It was calm, rational, and hopeful. They reviewed the latest series of incidents throughout the country. As usual, there were about six, total of up to two dozen deaths. There have been over 500 since the first of the year throughout the country according to one of the latest UN Security reports. After general consular information and updates a military person gives an overview. The Ambassador wraps it up with his comments and we can ask question.
Jim brought in a new volunteer from Hollard, a former military officer. they will be leaving for Bujumbura in the morning. I will wrap up several reports, review everything with Janet, and pack my bags.

Saturday, February fifteenth.

As the plane lifted off the runway I could feel the stress lift off my shoulders, stress that I was unaware I even knew I carried.

 

 

Wednesday, February twelfth.

We meet first thing in the morning with our staff. It is like being the director of an orchestra. The guys we have are young, eager, tireless, enthusiastic, and for the most part, exciting work with. Having a good staff was one of my big concerns.

An early daily ritual is the morning shower. No hot water because we do not fire up the wood burner in the back. Two years ago I would strip on the side porch after dark, stand to the side of a two gallon basin with hot water and take a sponge bath. Now I strip, turn the water on and just look at it for a couple moments, finally tentatively and carefully, I put my head forward and get my hair wet. Several drops hit my shoulders. Meanwhile, my head is washed, arms and I have soap on my body, and the big move has to be made. With a sharp intake of breath, the immersion is completed for the day. In four more days I will enjoy one of the wonders of the Western world…a hot shower. Keith and Janet arrived an hour late. Pete and Dave returned from Uganda. They got their 90 visas.

Thursday, February thirteenth.

Janet, Keith, Jim, and I went together and did a swing around the Kibuye Prefecture. Still, very few NGO and staff around. Everything appears calm and quiet. ICRC was constructing a brick wall around their compound. UNHCR was riding in a convoy of five cars with military in front and back. We had no incidents and felt quite good about our progress and plans for the future. In the evening we had a telephone conversation between ourselves and the US home office agreeing to continue the program under certain restrictions and changes. A long day but rewarding. I am seeing, feeling, and anticipating coming HOME. Love you babe. Thanks for loving me, praying, and the freedom to do this kind of work and living this kind of life.

Friday, February fourteenth.

Orientation of Janet was the focus today. Right off I asked her to drive. If she could handle the driving on the left I knew she would do great. She did it like a trooper. We stopped at Chillington – supplier of hoes, Trama – Local transport hauler, Albert – Indian broker for NGO supplies, Alfred – Swedish Pentecostal Mission and colleagues, and several others. We ended at Food for the Hungry. They have sent fifty percent of their staff home. One of their houses had a break in. Nothing personal or related to the military so much as reflective of the life and times in Rwanda.

We ended the day in Kigale with a security meeting for Americans at the American Club headed by the Ambassador. Usually these meetings make me feel insecure. It was calm, rational, and hopeful. They reviewed the latest series of incidents throughout the country. As usual, there were about six, total of up to two dozen deaths. There have been over 500 since the first of the year throughout the country according to one of the latest UN Security reports. After general consular information and updates a military person gives an overview. The Ambassador wraps it up with his comments and we can ask question.
Jim brought in a new volunteer from Hollard, a former military officer. they will be leaving for Bujumbura in the morning. I will wrap up several reports, review everything with Janet, and pack my bags.

Saturday, February fifteenth.

As the plane lifted off the runway I could feel the stress lift off my shoulders, stress that I was unaware I even knew I carried.

 

 

Monday, February tenth.

Daily I try to get into the field and participate in the distributions but it never happens. There is too much organizational stuff to coordinate. Every day or so we hear of atrocities. This is a scary place. We learned two small vans, each holding about 19 passengers were stopped on the Ruhengeri Road, about 70 km outside of Kigali, not that far way. One van was blown up. Hutu and Tutsi were separated, all Tutsi were killed on the spot.
I spent the day dealing with financial issues and arranging for setting up several tree nurseries. We have seven common species of tree, one-kilogram seed for each. My guess is that we have close to 500,000 seeds. If we could get two thirds of them out as young seedlings, that would be totally exciting.

Each day Maritini Rucyohono does my laundry, among other things. I just set a small pile outside my door. In the evening it is washed, folded, and ironed, even the underwear. I pay this guy an outstanding stipend of $45.00 per month. One piece of underwear was thin bare. It even had a major hole in it. He wanted permission for him to take it to the tailor who for thirty cents would fix it. I refused and gave it to him instead. He was overjoyed. He jumped up and down and gave me a high five.

This is the second night in a row the lights went our promptly at 7:00 P.M, the same time darkness settles over the land. I went to bed at 8:00. I went right to sleep and woke up refreshed at 1:30 A.M. Disgusting.

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, February eleventh.

Another exciting day. I expect Jim back from Burundi, Keith and Janet from Kenya, and perhaps Dave and Pete back from Kampala, Uganda. We have distributed over 3,000 hoes to needy and vulnerable families the last couple of days. I just paid for another five ton of seed and later in the evening discovered that an additional eleven ton had been delivered. While thinking significantly reducing program length or withdrawal altogether, I just made a commitment to purchase another twenty ton of soya bean and mixed high-altitude bean seed from the local economy. I am spending money left and right, creating a market where there is none, putting cash into these communities which desperately need it.

Received a phone call from the US home office asking about our personal safety. A little late but a nice thought.
I went to the airport to pick up Keith and Janet. They were not even on the manifest. I called Nairobi. I was told they the flight had left early and they missed it. They got as far as Kampala and would hopefully arrive tomorrow on Rwanda Air.

On the way to Kigali, Silas, one of our local guys, tells me about having a drink with his friends on Sunday evening. Monday afternoon, he got word the bodies of two of them had been found about 15 km away from Gitarama. The word on the ground is that a soldier was interested in the fiancé of one of the men. For a country that does not allow weapons or personal arms, there sure are a lot of bodies lying around. Jim and I were trading death and scary experiences this evening.

Got my tickets for flying out of here today.

 

 

Monday, February tenth.

Daily I try to get into the field and participate in the distributions but it never happens. There is too much organizational stuff to coordinate. Every day or so we hear of atrocities. This is a scary place. We learned two small vans, each holding about 19 passengers were stopped on the Ruhengeri Road, about 70 km outside of Kigali, not that far way. One van was blown up. Hutu and Tutsi were separated, all Tutsi were killed on the spot.
I spent the day dealing with financial issues and arranging for setting up several tree nurseries. We have seven common species of tree, one-kilogram seed for each. My guess is that we have close to 500,000 seeds. If we could get two thirds of them out as young seedlings, that would be totally exciting.

Each day Maritini Rucyohono does my laundry, among other things. I just set a small pile outside my door. In the evening it is washed, folded, and ironed, even the underwear. I pay this guy an outstanding stipend of $45.00 per month. One piece of underwear was thin bare. It even had a major hole in it. He wanted permission for him to take it to the tailor who for thirty cents would fix it. I refused and gave it to him instead. He was overjoyed. He jumped up and down and gave me a high five.

This is the second night in a row the lights went our promptly at 7:00 P.M, the same time darkness settles over the land. I went to bed at 8:00. I went right to sleep and woke up refreshed at 1:30 A.M. Disgusting.

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, February eleventh.

Another exciting day. I expect Jim back from Burundi, Keith and Janet from Kenya, and perhaps Dave and Pete back from Kampala, Uganda. We have distributed over 3,000 hoes to needy and vulnerable families the last couple of days. I just paid for another five ton of seed and later in the evening discovered that an additional eleven ton had been delivered. While thinking significantly reducing program length or withdrawal altogether, I just made a commitment to purchase another twenty ton of soya bean and mixed high-altitude bean seed from the local economy. I am spending money left and right, creating a market where there is none, putting cash into these communities which desperately need it.

Received a phone call from the US home office asking about our personal safety. A little late but a nice thought.
I went to the airport to pick up Keith and Janet. They were not even on the manifest. I called Nairobi. I was told they the flight had left early and they missed it. They got as far as Kampala and would hopefully arrive tomorrow on Rwanda Air.

On the way to Kigali, Silas, one of our local guys, tells me about having a drink with his friends on Sunday evening. Monday afternoon, he got word the bodies of two of them had been found about 15 km away from Gitarama. The word on the ground is that a soldier was interested in the fiancé of one of the men. For a country that does not allow weapons or personal arms, there sure are a lot of bodies lying around. Jim and I were trading death and scary experiences this evening.

Got my tickets for flying out of here today.

 

 

Thursday, February sixth.

Jim rapped on my door at 6:00 A.M. We had to be at the Bujumbura International Airport by 6:45 to catch the World Food Program plane to Ngosi. We were 30 minutes early and the airport was totally vacant. Up to four months ago, the airport was only a couple of miles within contested territory. Despite this being a domestic flight I still had to go through some exit formalities, security check, and passport review. We flew in a 17-seat twin engine otter. There were only five of us.

The airfield at Ngozi was a bare laterite strip, with a small shed at one end in the middle of pasture and maize fields. I rode with one of the WFP guys into town. We finally found the UNHCR office who was going to make the run to the border. I hitched a ride, crossed with no problem and my guys were waiting with the land cruiser. We stopped at Butare for lunch. Then we stopped at the university forestry station to purchase one kilogram of seven tree.

I am big on tress. This is a great food for work project. Tees provide soil conservation, wood for energy, fodder for cattle, lumber, logs for bridges, hoe handles, plus wildlife cover, food, and esthetic appeal. This time around I am pushing for more fruit trees. We still have functioning nurseries from the work we did two years ago.
Got home as a treasonable time. Dave was there. He had stayed in Kibuye two days beyond the time everyone else left. Got some great people on the team.

Friday, February seventh.

I spent most of the day working out of Gitarama. I sent Dave and Pete into Kigali to chase down supplies, including seed, and arrange transportation. I was sure there was a US embassy’s security meeting. Being the only American, I went in at 4:00 P.M. No meeting. There was a Canadian security meeting, however. They stayed in town for the meeting and later hanging out with the Food for the Hungry team. I got home just at dusk. This was my first time alone. Everything was fine.

Saturday, February eighth.

We had several visitors today. Jean Paul and myself worked on a program with Stephan the agronome on when, where, and how to set up a tree nursery.

In the afternoon Dave and Pete returned. At the security meeting they learned some details of the human rights killing. The British man’s body was 100 feet from the car and his head was on the front seat. His hands had lots of cuts indicating he had tried to fend off blows to his head. I did not need to hear this. It is starting to bother me a lot. I had to take a walk. These kinds of killings are not rational. They are just killers. The only way, I believe, to stop these people, is to kill them.

We struggle with these questions:

1. Are these killing arbitrary, randon, or planned and premeditated?
2. Do these formal militia know us, where we live, where we go, what we do? Does it make a difference to them?

I am not afraid to die so much as I do not want my death to be an accident or random death. I want to say goodbye to my family. The fact is I do not want to die yet! Does one, ever? My emotions go from fear to boldness. This is getting too dicey!

Darn, the lorry returned from Kibuye. They were supposed to stay there to assist in the distribution Monday through Wednesday. Miscommunication.

 

 

Sunday, February ninth.

No church. Stayed home to get the financials and materials orders together for Janet who will be taking over from me. She and Keith are flying in Tuesday. Dave and Pete left for Kampala to obtain reentry visas hopefully longer than what they came in with. We cannot obtain work permits even though the government is fully aware of what we are doing and our work organization is in registration process. Sent another load down to Kibuye with hoes and maize seed. I don’t usually work on Sunday nor have staff do so but we do not want to drive before sunrise on Monday morning.

I just received a phone call. The government just announced over the radio, he said, for all expatriates to return to Kigali or Butare. Those were the only safe areas they could guarantee. Oh great! The place appears calm, peaceful, idyllic even. I did phone our regional office in Nairobi. I was told to go to Kigali if I felt I should I felt like a wimp preparing to depart. How can I ask my guys to visit the communes, continue the work, when I run off to hide? I decided to stay. I do not think I am being foolish…I know I should have gone to church.

Thursday, February sixth.

Jim rapped on my door at 6:00 A.M. We had to be at the Bujumbura International Airport by 6:45 to catch the World Food Program plane to Ngosi. We were 30 minutes early and the airport was totally vacant. Up to four months ago, the airport was only a couple of miles within contested territory. Despite this being a domestic flight I still had to go through some exit formalities, security check, and passport review. We flew in a 17-seat twin engine otter. There were only five of us.

The airfield at Ngozi was a bare laterite strip, with a small shed at one end in the middle of pasture and maize fields. I rode with one of the WFP guys into town. We finally found the UNHCR office who was going to make the run to the border. I hitched a ride, crossed with no problem and my guys were waiting with the land cruiser. We stopped at Butare for lunch. Then we stopped at the university forestry station to purchase one kilogram of seven tree.

I am big on tress. This is a great food for work project. Tees provide soil conservation, wood for energy, fodder for cattle, lumber, logs for bridges, hoe handles, plus wildlife cover, food, and esthetic appeal. This time around I am pushing for more fruit trees. We still have functioning nurseries from the work we did two years ago.
Got home as a treasonable time. Dave was there. He had stayed in Kibuye two days beyond the time everyone else left. Got some great people on the team.

Friday, February seventh.

I spent most of the day working out of Gitarama. I sent Dave and Pete into Kigali to chase down supplies, including seed, and arrange transportation. I was sure there was a US embassy’s security meeting. Being the only American, I went in at 4:00 P.M. No meeting. There was a Canadian security meeting, however. They stayed in town for the meeting and later hanging out with the Food for the Hungry team. I got home just at dusk. This was my first time alone. Everything was fine.

Saturday, February eighth.

We had several visitors today. Jean Paul and myself worked on a program with Stephan the agronome on when, where, and how to set up a tree nursery.

In the afternoon Dave and Pete returned. At the security meeting they learned some details of the human rights killing. The British man’s body was 100 feet from the car and his head was on the front seat. His hands had lots of cuts indicating he had tried to fend off blows to his head. I did not need to hear this. It is starting to bother me a lot. I had to take a walk. These kinds of killings are not rational. They are just killers. The only way, I believe, to stop these people, is to kill them.

We struggle with these questions:

1. Are these killing arbitrary, randon, or planned and premeditated?
2. Do these formal militia know us, where we live, where we go, what we do? Does it make a difference to them?

I am not afraid to die so much as I do not want my death to be an accident or random death. I want to say goodbye to my family. The fact is I do not want to die yet! Does one, ever? My emotions go from fear to boldness. This is getting too dicey!

Darn, the lorry returned from Kibuye. They were supposed to stay there to assist in the distribution Monday through Wednesday. Miscommunication.

 

 

Sunday, February ninth.

No church. Stayed home to get the financials and materials orders together for Janet who will be taking over from me. She and Keith are flying in Tuesday. Dave and Pete left for Kampala to obtain reentry visas hopefully longer than what they came in with. We cannot obtain work permits even though the government is fully aware of what we are doing and our work organization is in registration process. Sent another load down to Kibuye with hoes and maize seed. I don’t usually work on Sunday nor have staff do so but we do not want to drive before sunrise on Monday morning.

I just received a phone call. The government just announced over the radio, he said, for all expatriates to return to Kigali or Butare. Those were the only safe areas they could guarantee. Oh great! The place appears calm, peaceful, idyllic even. I did phone our regional office in Nairobi. I was told to go to Kigali if I felt I should I felt like a wimp preparing to depart. How can I ask my guys to visit the communes, continue the work, when I run off to hide? I decided to stay. I do not think I am being foolish…I know I should have gone to church.

Wednesday, February fifth.

It was quiet when I got up. I stood for a moment outside looking over the beautiful landscape: scattered homes surround by banana trees, a cultivated lowland filled with beans and cabbage, flowering poinsettias in the yard, lush green foliage, and the chirping birds. What a great day to be alive. “Thank you, God, for life!”

Jim walked in as I am typing on the computer. “Bad News!” he says. “Oh no!” We listen to for the BBC news. “Five human rights workers killed in Karengera.” No details. Violence explodes with no warning. Karengera was the village I had lived in for six months two years earlier. It had been when the first Hutu returnees came flooding back across the border.

Jim and I were driving to Bujumbura, Burundi today. My visa was expiring so I needed to leave the country and reenter with a transit visa. We were heading in the general area of the killing. Burundi itself, is a powder keg. I went to the bathroom twice before we left at nine. Later, he admitted, he went twice as well. We were going to have clean bowels if we were to be shot.

We left about 9:00 A.M. Not to early but early enough that should we have trouble we can get into Bujumbura by mid-afternoon. It is a four-hour drive. To be stranded is to set yourself up for trouble or much worse. The border crossing went very well.

We picked up a lady at the border who had been out of the country on assignment for the World Health Organization. She had been working in Madagascar. She told us it was a holiday in Burundi…Unity Day…but there was not unity. Against our better judgement we were asked by armed military to take another couple of people. We did so, including a solder with his AK47.

As we drove through the southern edge of Nyungwe Forest, I noticed Jim was going as fast as he could safely navigate the twisting curves on this mountainous road. I check my seat belt. I noticed he had taken his off. He explained, “This section of the road had averaged a causality a day for the last six months up to about two months ago. He could get out of the care rapidly without the seat belt, especially if wounded.” Yes, my heart started to beat a little faster. Neither was I encouraged to see soldiers standing every half mile or so. The rear window was going up and down next to the soldier as he clicked the safety on and off his gun.

Both Rwanda and Burundi were administered from Bujumbura by Belgium in the pre-independence era. The city is laid out beautifully on the coast of Lake Tanganyika, just a trifle smaller than Lake Michigan. The city was characterized by wide boulevards, mountains in the distance, expansive construction, unlike the crowded village like setting of Kigali, the capital of Rwands. Jim, Annaka, and mself went to the Yacht Club to see if we could find some of his contacts.

Upon returning from sailing on the lake, one of his friends made an arrangement to visit a missionary couple, in their eighties, who have been living in Zaire and Burundi in excess of 50 years. On their compound thee were approximately 11,000 Hutu refugees. They had been forcibly removed from their homes by the existing government. Whole blocks of homes had been destroyed, shot up, and most of the young men killed or removed silently no longer to be seen nor heard from. I saw hovels where the wounded and ill were cared for, the places where soldiers had stood and open fired on the compound. I had a child hanging onto each finger, like we were Piped Piper with 80 children following us. It was another example of the hideousness of war. How often and how long?

I paid for the meal we shared with Jim, Yoost, and Annaka at the Restaurant Romantice. They were playing the 1960s music of my youth.

Later that evening we pulled off the internet the following report:

“In a further deterioration of the security situation in Rwanda, four employees of the UN Human Rights Field Operation in Rwanda human rights observers were shot dead in the south west Cyangugu prefecture yesterday. A fifth died in the hospital later. The observers, three Rwandans, a Britain, and a Cambodian, were traveling in two clearly marked UN vehicles in Karengera Commune when ambushed by a large group of unidentified arm men. Kibuye, Gisenyi, Ruhengeri, and Cyangugu Perefectures, which border Zaire, have become increasingly unstable since the mass return of Hutu refugees from Zaire and Tanzania at the end of last year. Large numbers of ex-FAR/Interahamwe are believed to have infiltrated, concealing themselves among the returnees and possibly joining up with other ex-FAR/Interahamwe members hiding out in dense forest along the border. The four prefectures are well-known hot beds of Hutu insurgency, with the road running alongside of Lake Kivu from Gisenyi to Kibuye, said to be particularly dangerous.”

This is in adjacent to and part of the area we work. This is when I ask myself, Why am I here?

Wednesday, February fifth.

It was quiet when I got up. I stood for a moment outside looking over the beautiful landscape: scattered homes surround by banana trees, a cultivated lowland filled with beans and cabbage, flowering poinsettias in the yard, lush green foliage, and the chirping birds. What a great day to be alive. “Thank you, God, for life!”

Jim walked in as I am typing on the computer. “Bad News!” he says. “Oh no!” We listen to for the BBC news. “Five human rights workers killed in Karengera.” No details. Violence explodes with no warning. Karengera was the village I had lived in for six months two years earlier. It had been when the first Hutu returnees came flooding back across the border.

Jim and I were driving to Bujumbura, Burundi today. My visa was expiring so I needed to leave the country and reenter with a transit visa. We were heading in the general area of the killing. Burundi itself, is a powder keg. I went to the bathroom twice before we left at nine. Later, he admitted, he went twice as well. We were going to have clean bowels if we were to be shot.

We left about 9:00 A.M. Not to early but early enough that should we have trouble we can get into Bujumbura by mid-afternoon. It is a four-hour drive. To be stranded is to set yourself up for trouble or much worse. The border crossing went very well.

We picked up a lady at the border who had been out of the country on assignment for the World Health Organization. She had been working in Madagascar. She told us it was a holiday in Burundi…Unity Day…but there was not unity. Against our better judgement we were asked by armed military to take another couple of people. We did so, including a solder with his AK47.

As we drove through the southern edge of Nyungwe Forest, I noticed Jim was going as fast as he could safely navigate the twisting curves on this mountainous road. I check my seat belt. I noticed he had taken his off. He explained, “This section of the road had averaged a causality a day for the last six months up to about two months ago. He could get out of the care rapidly without the seat belt, especially if wounded.” Yes, my heart started to beat a little faster. Neither was I encouraged to see soldiers standing every half mile or so. The rear window was going up and down next to the soldier as he clicked the safety on and off his gun.

Both Rwanda and Burundi were administered from Bujumbura by Belgium in the pre-independence era. The city is laid out beautifully on the coast of Lake Tanganyika, just a trifle smaller than Lake Michigan. The city was characterized by wide boulevards, mountains in the distance, expansive construction, unlike the crowded village like setting of Kigali, the capital of Rwands. Jim, Annaka, and mself went to the Yacht Club to see if we could find some of his contacts.

Upon returning from sailing on the lake, one of his friends made an arrangement to visit a missionary couple, in their eighties, who have been living in Zaire and Burundi in excess of 50 years. On their compound thee were approximately 11,000 Hutu refugees. They had been forcibly removed from their homes by the existing government. Whole blocks of homes had been destroyed, shot up, and most of the young men killed or removed silently no longer to be seen nor heard from. I saw hovels where the wounded and ill were cared for, the places where soldiers had stood and open fired on the compound. I had a child hanging onto each finger, like we were Piped Piper with 80 children following us. It was another example of the hideousness of war. How often and how long?

I paid for the meal we shared with Jim, Yoost, and Annaka at the Restaurant Romantice. They were playing the 1960s music of my youth.

Later that evening we pulled off the internet the following report:

“In a further deterioration of the security situation in Rwanda, four employees of the UN Human Rights Field Operation in Rwanda human rights observers were shot dead in the south west Cyangugu prefecture yesterday. A fifth died in the hospital later. The observers, three Rwandans, a Britain, and a Cambodian, were traveling in two clearly marked UN vehicles in Karengera Commune when ambushed by a large group of unidentified arm men. Kibuye, Gisenyi, Ruhengeri, and Cyangugu Perefectures, which border Zaire, have become increasingly unstable since the mass return of Hutu refugees from Zaire and Tanzania at the end of last year. Large numbers of ex-FAR/Interahamwe are believed to have infiltrated, concealing themselves among the returnees and possibly joining up with other ex-FAR/Interahamwe members hiding out in dense forest along the border. The four prefectures are well-known hot beds of Hutu insurgency, with the road running alongside of Lake Kivu from Gisenyi to Kibuye, said to be particularly dangerous.”

This is in adjacent to and part of the area we work. This is when I ask myself, Why am I here?

Saturday, February one.

Ten o’clock on Saturday morning at Kigali International Airport we discovered there are four flights scheduled for the day. Not exactly O’Hare International. Kenya Airways office was closed. Rwanda Airways was closed. We found someone who looked official but he did not know a Francine. About ten persons and three hours later, we discovered that she did exist but did not work that day. No one knew her schedule…she had a phone…she had no phone…she lived nearby…she lived far away…she had the vehicle…there was no vehicle.

Finally, we got a phone number, called, and a young man answered. “Yes,” he spoke English. “Yes,” he knew Francine. “Yes, this was her home. No,” he did not know the address and could not direct us to it.”

We finally found someone who could take us to her home. It was quite far. She was not there nor was the vehicle. She was an Adventist and attending church. Her sister was there, a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old woman dressed in army fatigues, a 45 stuck in her belt and a scar across her cheek to her chin.

She said, “Follow me!” We roared off in our Toyota Land Cruiser trying to keep up. The Hilux truck was in the front yard of their parents’ home. It would not start. The military lady took charge. She kicked Pete out of the driver’s seat. I drove the cruiser and gave her a push. It started with a cloud of blue and black smoke and stopped dead anytime the foot came off the accelerator. This is after spending $4,500 on an overhaul three days previous. We pushed and coaxed it to a warehouse I knew about and left it. We returned home at four P.M. accomplishing a big zero. Jim from Burundi was back. We had a great talk, laughed and cried about our situation and had a good meal. I felt better.

Sunday, February second.

Restful day catching up. Have I told you my Kiyarwanda name? The family name is always placed first: Havemana Ludoviko.

Monday, February third.

In the morning, I sat in the passenger seat of our 3.5 ton lorry determining which of the two potential drivers I would hire. I selected one and disappointed the other one. Later in the day, I was able to obtain an additional 20,000 hoes, 100 metric tons of fresh bean seed and pay $1,219 for transportation. Some places I had to stop in three times and up to five different shops and venues just to find an item. No one stop shopping here in post genocide Rwanda. Worked on reports and communication until after 10:00 P.M.

His name was Albert. He is from India. His company is called Pace, Inc. As I walked into his hardware store to purchase 12,000 hoes he stopped me. He immediately knelt at his desk, crossed himself, and prayed for about 30 seconds. Then he rose and we continued our discussion. I asked, “Why do you stop and pray like this?” He said, “I do this every time I enter and leave my office at the beginning and end of the day. I cannot do my work without praying.”

It is our attitude at the beginning of a difficult undertaking which more than anything else will determine its outcome.

Tuesday, February fourth.

I am up early working at the computer. I hear something. It is Mama Lillie coming out of a spare room we have in the house. She works late preparing supper, cleaning up, and then is afraid to go home in the dark. She says the soldiers will take her to the bushes. I am surprised who I find often who spends the night in our home after the doors are locked and the outside lights are on…when the power stays on.

I simply refuse to spend one second more of my time in Kigali yet it appears to be necessary to make things happen. Another day spent chasing people No luck in getting the Hilux running. I finally picked up a mechanic and we pulled it to the garage. The chief administrator of the garage is a French woman. I could not understand her.

Dave and pete are doing the upcountry work and doing a great job. Jim arrived back from Kibuye late afternoon.

Saturday, February one.

Ten o’clock on Saturday morning at Kigali International Airport we discovered there are four flights scheduled for the day. Not exactly O’Hare International. Kenya Airways office was closed. Rwanda Airways was closed. We found someone who looked official but he did not know a Francine. About ten persons and three hours later, we discovered that she did exist but did not work that day. No one knew her schedule…she had a phone…she had no phone…she lived nearby…she lived far away…she had the vehicle…there was no vehicle.

Finally, we got a phone number, called, and a young man answered. “Yes,” he spoke English. “Yes,” he knew Francine. “Yes, this was her home. No,” he did not know the address and could not direct us to it.”

We finally found someone who could take us to her home. It was quite far. She was not there nor was the vehicle. She was an Adventist and attending church. Her sister was there, a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old woman dressed in army fatigues, a 45 stuck in her belt and a scar across her cheek to her chin.

She said, “Follow me!” We roared off in our Toyota Land Cruiser trying to keep up. The Hilux truck was in the front yard of their parents’ home. It would not start. The military lady took charge. She kicked Pete out of the driver’s seat. I drove the cruiser and gave her a push. It started with a cloud of blue and black smoke and stopped dead anytime the foot came off the accelerator. This is after spending $4,500 on an overhaul three days previous. We pushed and coaxed it to a warehouse I knew about and left it. We returned home at four P.M. accomplishing a big zero. Jim from Burundi was back. We had a great talk, laughed and cried about our situation and had a good meal. I felt better.

Sunday, February second.

Restful day catching up. Have I told you my Kiyarwanda name? The family name is always placed first: Havemana Ludoviko.

Monday, February third.

In the morning, I sat in the passenger seat of our 3.5 ton lorry determining which of the two potential drivers I would hire. I selected one and disappointed the other one. Later in the day, I was able to obtain an additional 20,000 hoes, 100 metric tons of fresh bean seed and pay $1,219 for transportation. Some places I had to stop in three times and up to five different shops and venues just to find an item. No one stop shopping here in post genocide Rwanda. Worked on reports and communication until after 10:00 P.M.

His name was Albert. He is from India. His company is called Pace, Inc. As I walked into his hardware store to purchase 12,000 hoes he stopped me. He immediately knelt at his desk, crossed himself, and prayed for about 30 seconds. Then he rose and we continued our discussion. I asked, “Why do you stop and pray like this?” He said, “I do this every time I enter and leave my office at the beginning and end of the day. I cannot do my work without praying.”

It is our attitude at the beginning of a difficult undertaking which more than anything else will determine its outcome.

Tuesday, February fourth.

I am up early working at the computer. I hear something. It is Mama Lillie coming out of a spare room we have in the house. She works late preparing supper, cleaning up, and then is afraid to go home in the dark. She says the soldiers will take her to the bushes. I am surprised who I find often who spends the night in our home after the doors are locked and the outside lights are on…when the power stays on.

I simply refuse to spend one second more of my time in Kigali yet it appears to be necessary to make things happen. Another day spent chasing people No luck in getting the Hilux running. I finally picked up a mechanic and we pulled it to the garage. The chief administrator of the garage is a French woman. I could not understand her.

Dave and pete are doing the upcountry work and doing a great job. Jim arrived back from Kibuye late afternoon.