"Umwigisha" aka Emile (the real teacher)

Emile, our health education specialist, his wife, Séraphine, and their daughter, Graciella, had me over for dinner last weekend. Took my second taxi ride (still at muzungu prices…although I found out gas is nearer to $9 a gallon, rather than $7). Again, I was served a lovely meal which included this salad, something they know I appreciate.

Emile will serve as our interim program director. He calls me his “teacher” (umwigisha in Kirundi) because he knows limited English and has asked me to help him use it conversationally. He’s doing beautifully, and I especially admire his guts for just going for it. I’m very timid with French, but am learning to be bold like Emile.

Let the Care Groups Begin

This one year old twin is the reason we are here...he looks like he is about six months old. His mother brought him to the health center because of diarrhea, vomiting and fever. That's Jean Baptiste holding him.

This week our health promoters got to practice their knowledge in the field. Overall, they did a great job! We couldn’t observe them all because there are over 200 Care Groups containing a total of more than 2000 volunteers. Chantal and Jean Baptiste went back to Bujumbura on Wednesday afternoon, so I got a chance to go around with Emile to visit more groups and debrief with the promoters. There are a few glitches that need working out. It’s been a struggle for the promoters to get to some of their groups because of the distance they have to travel. World Relief purchased motor bikes for them, but they are still in Bujumbura (2 ½ hrs away). The plan is to get them up here in next week and to train the promoters how to use them. Logistics are definitely a challenge.

I had two muzungu experiences this week. Wherever I go upcountry, I draw a crowd because of my skin color. When Emile and I were discussing the week with some promoters outside their home, I noticed a couple of small boys who were maybe 5 or 6. They were observing me, as I was them. After some time, I greeted them in Kirundi. One of the boys jumped up grabbed his face and ran screaming. I didn’t expect that reaction! However, I do understand the curiosity. I’ve been surrounded by Burundians all week and as we were coming back to Bujumbura yesterday, I saw a group of muzungus in Gitega (the second largest town after Bujumbura) and found myself staring. They looked so white and out of place. These children were a bit more receptive to me at our outdoor goat brochette restaurant.

I also have some disappointing news. Chantal has resigned from her position as program manager. She put a lot of energy and skill into her job, and she will be missed. I believe in Emile and Jean Baptiste, though, and I definitely believe in this project. My hope is that this will just be part of the journey and not a major detour.

Jean Baptisté

Jean Baptisté is the Monitoring & Evaluation specialist for our Child Survival Project. We work quite closely together because a majority of my internship is working on monitoring and compiling data. This man is very easy to love. Last week he asked me the difference between “like” and “love” because in Kirundi there is no differentiation. I tried to explain it to him, but as you know, both “like” and “love” have many nuances. Because he speaks English very well, having gone to Theology school in Uganda and Kenya, I think he understood me. One of his favorite things to say is, “You give me your heart, I give you my hand.” Part of what he’s saying is that building relationships is the foundation for being generous, or “don’t just ask me for my money, but seek to know me.” He has been both generous and sought to know me.

I went to dinner at his home Saturday night. He is married to a woman, Mirielle, from Congo, and they have two precious daughters, Sheila (almost 2) and Donna (1 month). Mirielle made us my first hamburger in Burundi along with grilled fish and frites, the African version of French fries. I had another first, my first “taxi” ride in Bujumbura to get to and from his place. I pieced together enough French, Kirundi and English to communicate. However, driving in Burundi is quite an experience…the biggest vehicle always gets the right of way, traffic signs mean nothing (they don’t have traffic lights, although it honestly wouldn’t make a difference), there are no speed limits and seatbelts are optional (I prefer to wear them when available for the above mentioned reasons). Needless to say, I was charged the “muzungu” (white person’s) price for the taxi. There is really no standard rate or meter running. I didn’t feel too terribly bad about it though because fuel costs even more here than in the States at about $7 per gallon.

Jean Baptisté was a refugee in Tanzania near Kigoma for many years. He tried to explain the system for choosing which refugees will be allowed shelter in the States. From his perspective, people appear to be chosen randomly. It almost sounds like Charle and the Chocolate Factory when Charlie found the golden ticket. He is an example of a refugee who has done well despite his circumstances. But he, and many other Burundians, would really like to go to the U.S. In fact, Trina’s tennis coach teased me about trading skin color (along with a few other anatomical parts) and passports so he could go back in my place. Burundi can be a very difficult place to survive if you are Burundian, and although I like to call myself a Murundi-kazi (a female Burundian), I have been born with privileges unknown to most who call this their birthplace.

How to Teach a Man to Fish: 101

First of all, what if he doesn’t like fish, but prefers goat? Secondly, perhaps he catches a fish and brings it home, but he must sell it for school fees for his children or for malaria meds for his sick baby. Then what?!

Being upcountry, I’m thinking a lot more about the poor because they are all around me. John Baptiste and Emile told me that the police recently stopped them at a checkpoint asking them to take two young girls with them when they were traveling upcountry. The girls were far from home visiting their mother in a local hospital. They learned that instead of going to school, these two girls work in the field because they are too poor to pay school fees. Per capita income is less than a $1 US per month in this area while nationally it’s about $2 US per week.

So why are they poor? Why haven’t things changed much since I was in Burundi 30 years ago? I can think of an obvious reason…the civil war. But I know there are factors of which I am not as cognizant. For instance, Burundi’s main cash crop is coffee. So I wonder who owns the land where the coffee is grown and who profits or does not profit as the price goes down in the market? Is some of this money going back into the country to help its people?

I don’t really have the answers to a lot of my questions, but I do know that the Child Survival Project that I’ve joined is a step toward righting some social injustices and toward placing structures in place that will last. This week we’ve been training promoters on our first health intervention (diarrhea, of course!). These promoters will train volunteers who will fan out in their communities with these health messages (including malaria, immunizations and malnutrition). If you know about my public health passion, you know I strongly believe in collaborating with the local Ministry of Health (MoH) in order to sustain the project. This project has included various specialists from the MoH in the training, and part of my job is to make sure we are sharing critical health indicators and data. The plan is for the MoH to continue the project on their own after five years and to use it as a template for other provinces. It was a good week for me to get familiar with where I’ll be working for the rest of my time here and for building relationships with the promoters.

El Santuario

Where is your sanctuary, the place where you go to be renewed? When I think of sanctuary, sometimes I think of a church, but more often I think of a peaceful place with trees, sun and water. I’ve just been to such a place in Tanzania called Jacobsen’s Beach. I went with Trina, Seth, and a young family from Canada (Doug, Deanna, Maddie and Keza). Okay, so it may not be everyone’s idea of a sanctuary depending on whether you can survive a five hour drive matatu style, live without running water (the pump was broken), endure with limited electricity (the generator ran for a few hours each night), and adapt to wild monkeys who look cute, but go on the rampage for food (including in the kitchen and the Land Rover).
But how do you feel about sitting on a beautiful beach reading or snorkeling in crystal clear (warm!) water gazing at black fish with fluorescent blue polka dots or jumping off cliffs into the water or eating fresh fish and the best pineapple in the world on an outcropping overlooking the water? It’s important for each of us to find those places where we can rest so we can continue on doing what we do, and in my case, reflect on what I will be doing both here and in the future.

Ironically, (Josiah, am I using the word correctly here?), we met about 800 Burundians at the Tanzania/Burundi border who were seeking their own type of sanctuary. They were refugees, just like my friends the Kaburas in Portland, who are returning to Burundi after 36 years in camps in Tanzania. Of course, not all of them have been in Tanzania that long, some have grown up, married, and had children. The camps are closing down and sending roughly 2000 refugees back to Burundi each week. I counted at least 18 big UNHCR trucks in the caravan we followed. I tried to imagine what they must be feeling, perhaps anticipation and a bit of fear. Deanna pointed out a child to Maddie that was about her age (3 ½). She explained to Maddie that this girl was moving to Burundi without a home. In fact, they are temporarily sheltered in fenced compounds. Can you imagine trying to establish a home with no land and few resources? I pray Burundi becomes a true sanctuary.

Lake Tanganyika

I took this picture at sunset overlooking Lake Tanganyika. Isn't it beautiful?! This is one of two dry seasons in Burundi so we can't see DR Congo across the lake. In rainy season the huge mountains and valleys of DRC appear. I find it comforting to find such natural beauty all over the world, and I hope the people of Burundi have the opportunity to enjoy it. I guess hippos are frequent visitors farther south, but I have yet to see them. I'm going to visit Kigoma in Tanzania for the weekend to stay at a little hide-a-way along the lake with Seth and Trina. Seth has this crazy idea of competing at "rock walk." We are supposed to pick up a really huge boulder and walk into the water until we can't hold our breath any longer. The person who stays under the longest wins! I think I might like speed Scrabble better, but I'm game for anything. I'm not just playing all the time, though. I've been in Buja working with my team developing health curriculum and summary report forms. I am growing more fond of Jean Baptiste, Emil and Chantal. I'll do a blog to tell you individually about each of them soon.