Founder's Corner

Thursday, January sixteenth.

Today was a step back into time. I drove down roads I had been on two years ago when the first one million displaced Rwandans had been returning from Eastern Congo. I was seeing some of the same needs, meeting friends, and staring down the same stone-faced boy soldiers carrying AK-47s. We met a couple members of parliament and took a tour of a newly build secondary school on the edge of the mountain overlooking Lake Kivu.

Friday, January seventeenth.

Part of our team is coming together. Keith is leading this mission but a lot of details need to be addressed, for example, where do we find 400 ton of seed? There still needs to be a plan made at each prefecture and commune. That is my job. The vehicles are in bad shape. In the afternoon Jim and I went to Ngororero, the sub prefecture for three communes. We met with two Agronomes and have plans to visit again in a week. At that time, we will have a list of vulnerable people.

Saturday, January eighteenth.

Today was a change of plans once again. I sent Pete off with Annaka and Joost to get a feel for Rwanda. The whole afternoon Joost and I spent on the computer trying to get a message off to the family. Three more volunteers arrived with a truck and land rover. Each night I am getting to bed around midnight. I am running out of steam. Every day is a challenge. I love it. There are so many obstacles to overcome. Annaka’s bed broke. It poured this afternoon. I need your love and support babe! Are you there?

Sunday, January nineteenth.

We went to a church service at ADEPR. That stands for Association des Eglises de Pentecote du Rwanda. I took all the members of our team out for lunch. At 3:00 P.M. five of us left for Kibuye. We arrived at dusk and stayed at the ADEPR Guest House.

Thursday, January sixteenth.

Today was a step back into time. I drove down roads I had been on two years ago when the first one million displaced Rwandans had been returning from Eastern Congo. I was seeing some of the same needs, meeting friends, and staring down the same stone-faced boy soldiers carrying AK-47s. We met a couple members of parliament and took a tour of a newly build secondary school on the edge of the mountain overlooking Lake Kivu.

Friday, January seventeenth.

Part of our team is coming together. Keith is leading this mission but a lot of details need to be addressed, for example, where do we find 400 ton of seed? There still needs to be a plan made at each prefecture and commune. That is my job. The vehicles are in bad shape. In the afternoon Jim and I went to Ngororero, the sub prefecture for three communes. We met with two Agronomes and have plans to visit again in a week. At that time, we will have a list of vulnerable people.

Saturday, January eighteenth.

Today was a change of plans once again. I sent Pete off with Annaka and Joost to get a feel for Rwanda. The whole afternoon Joost and I spent on the computer trying to get a message off to the family. Three more volunteers arrived with a truck and land rover. Each night I am getting to bed around midnight. I am running out of steam. Every day is a challenge. I love it. There are so many obstacles to overcome. Annaka’s bed broke. It poured this afternoon. I need your love and support babe! Are you there?

Sunday, January nineteenth.

We went to a church service at ADEPR. That stands for Association des Eglises de Pentecote du Rwanda. I took all the members of our team out for lunch. At 3:00 P.M. five of us left for Kibuye. We arrived at dusk and stayed at the ADEPR Guest House.

Monday, January thirteenth.  

As I write I have a 40-year-old-man with a six-foot tree branch wiping out the spiders and cobwebs off the ceilings and walls.  Works perfectly.  I took a shower this morning, no hot water although the house is plumbed for it.  It will take stoking up a wood burning boiler.  As I stepped out of the shower I noticed the water was turning brown, then darker, and finally it looked like coffee.  I let it run.  Twenty minutes later it cleared up.  I will give it a couple of days and then take a drink.  Hopefully, I will be home before Montezuma’s revenge hits.

I am itching to be in the villages and getting my hands on some real work.  I am hanging around home until the phone service is hooked up.  The house is wired but not had service for three years.  I drove to RwandTel to pick up the technician.  In less than twenty minutes I had service until I discovered that it will not get me out of the areas.  For long distance, why else would I want a phone, I had to write an official letter, hand deliver it to the Telcom office for an endorsement, then with 10,000 Rwandan Francs  to the local bank for a deposit.  Sounds like a lot of money but RF310 is equal to one USA dollar.  After all that, we had phone service except it sounds like hens scratching the ground.  

OSHDA would be shocked.  The local blacksmith does not have any protective eye gear nor even a pair of working pliers.  The power is hot-wired illegally off a neighbor’s power box.  The wire is stripped so other bare wires can be attached to run other power tools.  Fascinating, creative, and innovative.  The poverty within town is appalling.  Children are playing soccer with rolled up plastic bags tied with twine for a soccer ball.  Still, I saw no overt hunger but no one is overweight.  And this is Gitarama, one of the larger, more prosperous towns.  Wait until next week.

Tuesday, January fourteenth.  

Another attempt at phoning home.  The line was clear but no one picked up.  Not sure why.  I am sure they were home because it was 2:00 A.M. their time.  Tonight, the line was dead.  

Five minutes after leaving Gitarama the diesel engine started to clatter.  Sounds like a lifter went bad.  I tried to limp into Kigali, 48 kilometers away.  Fifteen miles later, going up a steep incline, it gave out.  I locked, parked, and left it.  I walked a couple hundred yards to an open market and caught public transport in a jam packed sweaty filled mini-van.  It is pedal to the metal, alternately, the accelerator then the brake, and full on prayer as we entered on particularly sharp curve.  Thirty minutes later at the cost of sixty-five cents, I was in town.  Later in the afternoon, Keith and I went out with the Land Cruiser and pulled it in.

Wednesday, January fifteenth.

Today was the first day we went to villages and started networking with local government officials as to the real need of returning refugees and displaced persons. Then we drove over to Kibuye where we worked two years previously. The Chinese have taken the hotel over and have the contract for a new road which the World Bank is financing. I met Ruche. Her English name is Ruth but it comes out Ruche. She is a widow. Her husband was killed. She has four children. She will do the house cleaning and maybe some food preparation.

Monday, January thirteenth.  

As I write I have a 40-year-old-man with a six-foot tree branch wiping out the spiders and cobwebs off the ceilings and walls.  Works perfectly.  I took a shower this morning, no hot water although the house is plumbed for it.  It will take stoking up a wood burning boiler.  As I stepped out of the shower I noticed the water was turning brown, then darker, and finally it looked like coffee.  I let it run.  Twenty minutes later it cleared up.  I will give it a couple of days and then take a drink.  Hopefully, I will be home before Montezuma’s revenge hits.

I am itching to be in the villages and getting my hands on some real work.  I am hanging around home until the phone service is hooked up.  The house is wired but not had service for three years.  I drove to RwandTel to pick up the technician.  In less than twenty minutes I had service until I discovered that it will not get me out of the areas.  For long distance, why else would I want a phone, I had to write an official letter, hand deliver it to the Telcom office for an endorsement, then with 10,000 Rwandan Francs  to the local bank for a deposit.  Sounds like a lot of money but RF310 is equal to one USA dollar.  After all that, we had phone service except it sounds like hens scratching the ground.  

OSHDA would be shocked.  The local blacksmith does not have any protective eye gear nor even a pair of working pliers.  The power is hot-wired illegally off a neighbor’s power box.  The wire is stripped so other bare wires can be attached to run other power tools.  Fascinating, creative, and innovative.  The poverty within town is appalling.  Children are playing soccer with rolled up plastic bags tied with twine for a soccer ball.  Still, I saw no overt hunger but no one is overweight.  And this is Gitarama, one of the larger, more prosperous towns.  Wait until next week.

Tuesday, January fourteenth.  

Another attempt at phoning home.  The line was clear but no one picked up.  Not sure why.  I am sure they were home because it was 2:00 A.M. their time.  Tonight, the line was dead.  

Five minutes after leaving Gitarama the diesel engine started to clatter.  Sounds like a lifter went bad.  I tried to limp into Kigali, 48 kilometers away.  Fifteen miles later, going up a steep incline, it gave out.  I locked, parked, and left it.  I walked a couple hundred yards to an open market and caught public transport in a jam packed sweaty filled mini-van.  It is pedal to the metal, alternately, the accelerator then the brake, and full on prayer as we entered on particularly sharp curve.  Thirty minutes later at the cost of sixty-five cents, I was in town.  Later in the afternoon, Keith and I went out with the Land Cruiser and pulled it in.

Wednesday, January fifteenth.

Today was the first day we went to villages and started networking with local government officials as to the real need of returning refugees and displaced persons. Then we drove over to Kibuye where we worked two years previously. The Chinese have taken the hotel over and have the contract for a new road which the World Bank is financing. I met Ruche. Her English name is Ruth but it comes out Ruche. She is a widow. Her husband was killed. She has four children. She will do the house cleaning and maybe some food preparation.

Friday, January tenth

I am exhilarated and discouraged tonight.  I am right in the middle of a chance to make a huge, maybe even a life and death difference, in the lives of the locals.  There is so much to do to just get up and running.  We do not have access to seed and must source it locally.  The language barrier is a major obstacle.  Everyone speaks Kiyarwanda and French.  I speak English and Hausa.  We do not have working phone lines.  I have zero staff.  Next week I expect four volunteers coming from Kenya.  I need to hire twenty local staff.  I have a million-dollar budget and ten thousand dollars in one hundred-dollar bills in my pocket.  

Compared to 1994 when the first refugees returned the cities are much cleaner.  There are functioning stop lights.  There are fewer road blocks and check points but low-level violence continues.  Bribery and corruption are seriously dealt with.  The government has given 72-hour notice to several non-government agencies to leave.  I wonder if that is an unspoken policy to keep other agencies who have more resources and influence in line.  Funny how one measures progress.  I met several previous acquaintances, government officials, and UN personnel.  I tried to connect via email and make a few phone calls.  No luck on either effort.

Saturday, January eleventh 

Woke up clear eyed and ready to take on the world at 4:00 A.M.  Something must be wrong to be so positive.  I talked with the family today.  Rwanda is seven hours ahead of Michigan.  I talked with Stephane, a MSU college student who is living with us.  Jan was off to Grand Rapids to see our daughter and family move to Boston.

I did not sleep well last night having a lot of doubts and discouragement but today got started with loading the vehicle, getting it maintained, buying supplies, talked to potentially work candidates and putting a plan together.  This old horse is starting to plow the field.  One thing I did was this morning was read the report on the work I did two years ago with the first return of refugees.  We accomplished a lot, helping about 300,000 people get seed, hoes, and food.  I want to see if we can exceed it.  I also discovered that a portion of the recipients of two years ago lost everything they had when the militia came across from Ijwe Island and attacked.  The defending military decided to destroy any further incentive so they burned all the crops, houses, and took all the cattle.  The returnees had to run again.  Seemed to me to be a great way to win the battle but lose the war.

I worked four hours on my Hewlett Packard 19B Business Consultant II calculator and remote infrared printer.  Seems to work great except it does not print…much like Africa.  It is a wonderful place, full of terrific people, where nothing seems to work.

Sunday, January twelfth

I got up real early to try again to speak to my wife.  I bet that you wept yourself to sleep.  I could tell.  Then I went to one of the few English services in the country.  The only reason I go is because it is right to do so.  It is hard to hear/understand, has a lot of echo, the singing is awful, preaching only slightly better, the benches made for children, the list could go on.  I heard some follow up stores from my previous time in Rwanda.  A man had been protected in the village where I had lived.  He is now in Kenya where he can teach.  If he had been caught he would certainly have been put in prison and probably executed.  His only crime having been a Hutu trying to prevent the killing of Tutsi.

Late in 1995, after we had departed, many returning Tutsi from Zaire returned and accused the church of siding with the makers of genocide.  They accomplished a coup de etat within the church, taking over offices, pastorates, claiming vehicles, and paying themselves outlandish salaries.  Only by the grace of God was Alfred, an outstanding Swiss missionary, hung in effigy, able to defend himself pointing to his own service and our work as proof of helping all persons in need regardless of ethnic origin.  No supper tonight but a candy bar.  I am going to come home thinner.

Friday, January tenth

I am exhilarated and discouraged tonight.  I am right in the middle of a chance to make a huge, maybe even a life and death difference, in the lives of the locals.  There is so much to do to just get up and running.  We do not have access to seed and must source it locally.  The language barrier is a major obstacle.  Everyone speaks Kiyarwanda and French.  I speak English and Hausa.  We do not have working phone lines.  I have zero staff.  Next week I expect four volunteers coming from Kenya.  I need to hire twenty local staff.  I have a million-dollar budget and ten thousand dollars in one hundred-dollar bills in my pocket.  

Compared to 1994 when the first refugees returned the cities are much cleaner.  There are functioning stop lights.  There are fewer road blocks and check points but low-level violence continues.  Bribery and corruption are seriously dealt with.  The government has given 72-hour notice to several non-government agencies to leave.  I wonder if that is an unspoken policy to keep other agencies who have more resources and influence in line.  Funny how one measures progress.  I met several previous acquaintances, government officials, and UN personnel.  I tried to connect via email and make a few phone calls.  No luck on either effort.

Saturday, January eleventh 

Woke up clear eyed and ready to take on the world at 4:00 A.M.  Something must be wrong to be so positive.  I talked with the family today.  Rwanda is seven hours ahead of Michigan.  I talked with Stephane, a MSU college student who is living with us.  Jan was off to Grand Rapids to see our daughter and family move to Boston.

I did not sleep well last night having a lot of doubts and discouragement but today got started with loading the vehicle, getting it maintained, buying supplies, talked to potentially work candidates and putting a plan together.  This old horse is starting to plow the field.  One thing I did was this morning was read the report on the work I did two years ago with the first return of refugees.  We accomplished a lot, helping about 300,000 people get seed, hoes, and food.  I want to see if we can exceed it.  I also discovered that a portion of the recipients of two years ago lost everything they had when the militia came across from Ijwe Island and attacked.  The defending military decided to destroy any further incentive so they burned all the crops, houses, and took all the cattle.  The returnees had to run again.  Seemed to me to be a great way to win the battle but lose the war.

I worked four hours on my Hewlett Packard 19B Business Consultant II calculator and remote infrared printer.  Seems to work great except it does not print…much like Africa.  It is a wonderful place, full of terrific people, where nothing seems to work.

Sunday, January twelfth

I got up real early to try again to speak to my wife.  I bet that you wept yourself to sleep.  I could tell.  Then I went to one of the few English services in the country.  The only reason I go is because it is right to do so.  It is hard to hear/understand, has a lot of echo, the singing is awful, preaching only slightly better, the benches made for children, the list could go on.  I heard some follow up stores from my previous time in Rwanda.  A man had been protected in the village where I had lived.  He is now in Kenya where he can teach.  If he had been caught he would certainly have been put in prison and probably executed.  His only crime having been a Hutu trying to prevent the killing of Tutsi.

Late in 1995, after we had departed, many returning Tutsi from Zaire returned and accused the church of siding with the makers of genocide.  They accomplished a coup de etat within the church, taking over offices, pastorates, claiming vehicles, and paying themselves outlandish salaries.  Only by the grace of God was Alfred, an outstanding Swiss missionary, hung in effigy, able to defend himself pointing to his own service and our work as proof of helping all persons in need regardless of ethnic origin.  No supper tonight but a candy bar.  I am going to come home thinner.

Tuesday, January seventh

It was almost 11:00 A.M. when I got up.  I am rested from the over- night flight to Europe.  I walked up to Badhoevendorp center, about ten minutes from the hotel.  I had an excellent sandwich at a place called De Herbergh.  I asked the waitress what direction I should take for a walk…then I walked the other direction.  She wanted to direct me to shops.  I wanted the countryside and ended walking adjacent to the airport.  

I forgot my hat.  I was out about two hours wishing I had checked the temperature.  It was freezing.  I realized I needed to pee.  There are few trees and no woods but there was a deep ravine near the security fence.  Suddenly there was flashing lights and a couple heavily armed guards approaching me.  A farmer had alerted security there was a stranger walking down the road watching the low approaching jets.  I had never been so close to these powerful, noisy, incredible machines only a couple hundred feet above me.  I was interrogated and warned and stayed out of prison.  

My confirmation came through and new tickets had been reissued.  I would fly out the next morning at 5:45 A.M.

Wednesday, January eighth

I was hit with a surprising $340.00 overweight charge for a bag I had checked all the way through from my point of embarkation.  I was not going to win that argument.  I sat next to a returning refugee who had been gone for five years.  He was a big guy.  I was jammed between him and the window…in the smoking section…with him smoking.  Oh yes, those days.

There is nothing like the warmth, smell, humidity of Africa up disembarkation.  It felt wonderful walking on the tarmac to the terminal.  There are few jetways in the airports of Africa.  The piece of luggage I had been forced to pay overweight charges never showed up.

The local taxi driver, named Abass brought me to a local hotel for $7.00 and $56.00 for the Kabalege Beach Resort Hotel.  It is named after a Kalabewe King but he was not sure which one since sons often take the names of their fathers.  The power is on and there is running water.  A good start for Africa.

Thursday, January ninth

It felt good being in Africa.  Some things do not change.  There are millions of small flying bugs.  They usually come out after some good rains.  There are the same unfinished construction projects, broken tarmac roads, people walking everywhere, crowing roosters in the morning, the call the prayer.  I was in Entebbe, Uganda trying to arrange the last leg of my flight to Kigali, Rwanda.  

Even though there were nine people on the stand-by list, I managed to board the twin engine prop plane with a capacity of 20.  I stayed in a four-bed guest room, not one of them long enough for me, with a bath outside.  No hot water.  I am in Africa, in Rwanda, where I will work for the next several months in a food security response to the returning refugees from Eastern Congo.

Tuesday, January seventh

It was almost 11:00 A.M. when I got up.  I am rested from the over- night flight to Europe.  I walked up to Badhoevendorp center, about ten minutes from the hotel.  I had an excellent sandwich at a place called De Herbergh.  I asked the waitress what direction I should take for a walk…then I walked the other direction.  She wanted to direct me to shops.  I wanted the countryside and ended walking adjacent to the airport.  

I forgot my hat.  I was out about two hours wishing I had checked the temperature.  It was freezing.  I realized I needed to pee.  There are few trees and no woods but there was a deep ravine near the security fence.  Suddenly there was flashing lights and a couple heavily armed guards approaching me.  A farmer had alerted security there was a stranger walking down the road watching the low approaching jets.  I had never been so close to these powerful, noisy, incredible machines only a couple hundred feet above me.  I was interrogated and warned and stayed out of prison.  

My confirmation came through and new tickets had been reissued.  I would fly out the next morning at 5:45 A.M.

Wednesday, January eighth

I was hit with a surprising $340.00 overweight charge for a bag I had checked all the way through from my point of embarkation.  I was not going to win that argument.  I sat next to a returning refugee who had been gone for five years.  He was a big guy.  I was jammed between him and the window…in the smoking section…with him smoking.  Oh yes, those days.

There is nothing like the warmth, smell, humidity of Africa up disembarkation.  It felt wonderful walking on the tarmac to the terminal.  There are few jetways in the airports of Africa.  The piece of luggage I had been forced to pay overweight charges never showed up.

The local taxi driver, named Abass brought me to a local hotel for $7.00 and $56.00 for the Kabalege Beach Resort Hotel.  It is named after a Kalabewe King but he was not sure which one since sons often take the names of their fathers.  The power is on and there is running water.  A good start for Africa.

Thursday, January ninth

It felt good being in Africa.  Some things do not change.  There are millions of small flying bugs.  They usually come out after some good rains.  There are the same unfinished construction projects, broken tarmac roads, people walking everywhere, crowing roosters in the morning, the call the prayer.  I was in Entebbe, Uganda trying to arrange the last leg of my flight to Kigali, Rwanda.  

Even though there were nine people on the stand-by list, I managed to board the twin engine prop plane with a capacity of 20.  I stayed in a four-bed guest room, not one of them long enough for me, with a bath outside.  No hot water.  I am in Africa, in Rwanda, where I will work for the next several months in a food security response to the returning refugees from Eastern Congo.

In 19994 and 1996 I completed two assignments in Rwanda. The first was a six-month period on the shores of Lake Kivu where one million souls were returning from Eastern Congo. Two years later, tens of thousands, in a second wave were returning home. I was there for a new period of forty-one days. What follows is an entry from my chronical of those days. (View more of the Rwanda Diary stories here)

It was 1994…

The phone call came to my real estate desk in the afternoon. Doug was the East African Director of World Renew, a faith-based Non-Governmental organization, living in Kenya. I was full time in real estate; selling, purchasing and managing rentals, while helping to manage a RE/MAX office in East Lansing. “Would I consider volunteering in a food security crisis that was overcoming Rwanda.” This was post-genocide. As we talked my heart was thumping against my chest. I was ready. It had been almost ten years since I had been in Africa.

I completed two assignments in Rwanda. The first was a six-month period on the shores of Lake Kivu where one million souls were returning from Eastern Congo. Two years later, tens of thousands, in a second wave were returning home. I was there for a new period of forty-one days. What follows is a chronical of those days.

Monday, January sixth

Every adventure begins and ends with a flight…and pain.  I am six foot seven.  I sat right in front of the bulkhead between an American lady going to Italy and two Dutch ladies.  I did not move from the seat for 7.5 hours after two meals and numerous naps.  My arthritis is gone.  I am permanently numb, stiff, and will never walk or stand correctly again.  

At the transfer desk in Amsterdam I was informed I would miss my connecting flight.  My travel agent had done a poor job of giving me enough connection time, only 55 minutes, and then we were twenty minutes late in arriving.  Partly my fault in not insuring I had enough time.  My luggage went to Brussels on a later flight.  Stuck without luggage and without a flight to Kigali.  

I stayed at the Dorint Hotel near Schiphol Airport.  Nice, clean, comfortable, nothing super sharp but more than adequate.  I got the run around saying it was not the LKM’s fault and responsibility to put me up.  I kept saying, “Your answer is unacceptable!”  They insisted I go back to my travel agent.  Nevertheless, persistence paid off.  I am here and have not paid for anything yet.  Now, to get to Rwanda.  “Good Night!”

In 19994 and 1996 I completed two assignments in Rwanda. The first was a six-month period on the shores of Lake Kivu where one million souls were returning from Eastern Congo. Two years later, tens of thousands, in a second wave were returning home. I was there for a new period of forty-one days. What follows is an entry from my chronical of those days. (View more of the Rwanda Diary stories here)

It was 1994…

The phone call came to my real estate desk in the afternoon. Doug was the East African Director of World Renew, a faith-based Non-Governmental organization, living in Kenya. I was full time in real estate; selling, purchasing and managing rentals, while helping to manage a RE/MAX office in East Lansing. “Would I consider volunteering in a food security crisis that was overcoming Rwanda.” This was post-genocide. As we talked my heart was thumping against my chest. I was ready. It had been almost ten years since I had been in Africa.

I completed two assignments in Rwanda. The first was a six-month period on the shores of Lake Kivu where one million souls were returning from Eastern Congo. Two years later, tens of thousands, in a second wave were returning home. I was there for a new period of forty-one days. What follows is a chronical of those days.

Monday, January sixth

Every adventure begins and ends with a flight…and pain.  I am six foot seven.  I sat right in front of the bulkhead between an American lady going to Italy and two Dutch ladies.  I did not move from the seat for 7.5 hours after two meals and numerous naps.  My arthritis is gone.  I am permanently numb, stiff, and will never walk or stand correctly again.  

At the transfer desk in Amsterdam I was informed I would miss my connecting flight.  My travel agent had done a poor job of giving me enough connection time, only 55 minutes, and then we were twenty minutes late in arriving.  Partly my fault in not insuring I had enough time.  My luggage went to Brussels on a later flight.  Stuck without luggage and without a flight to Kigali.  

I stayed at the Dorint Hotel near Schiphol Airport.  Nice, clean, comfortable, nothing super sharp but more than adequate.  I got the run around saying it was not the LKM’s fault and responsibility to put me up.  I kept saying, “Your answer is unacceptable!”  They insisted I go back to my travel agent.  Nevertheless, persistence paid off.  I am here and have not paid for anything yet.  Now, to get to Rwanda.  “Good Night!”