Martha's Vineyard

I've been spending some time with my dear friend, Martha. She invited me to her place in the Dundee Hills. This is the sight I woke up to the following morning, Mt. Hood and the Willamette Valley in all it's glory:

The next day we hiked her vineyards and talked
about grape harvest. The grapes look and taste
great. Harvest should be about the second week
of October.

I worked at the Maresh Red Hills Vineyard Retreat today and was
able to continue enjoying the view. Ahhh!

It's Official!

My presentation on my internship in Burundi and final oral exam were this past Wednesday. It's official...I passed and have my MPH! Some of the highlights of this program were my amazing fellow students...the Malaria Rangers...classes at all three campuses (OSU, PSU & OHSU)...our inspirational mentor, Dr. Chi...acronyms...going to the APHA conference in D.C. with Lisa...making lifelong friends...and finding joy in my work!

...and at the Oregon coast with Gaby girl!

Beth in Oregon

I live in the suburbs...it's a lot different than Burundi, and I am having some difficulty adjusting. Today was a good day, though. I went out to my favorite Lebanese joint, Nicholas Restaurant, and to Stumptown Coffee with my crazy friend, Suzanne. The coffee buyer for Stumptown stays with Trina and Seth when he comes to Burundi...small world!

We saw some beautiful sunflowers and a random plastic horse tied up to an old hitching post! It made me remember why Portland is also my home. Beautiful, weird, quirky, fun!

Buke, buke (Kirundi), Pole, pole (Swahili), Slowly, slowly (English)

This past week was full of small successes. Our first promoters were initially trained to drive the piki-piki (motorcycles)! Their teacher was truly gifted, giving them incremental goals. Emanuel is a trained instructor with Yamaha in Bujumbura and coaches/plays on the Burundian national rugby team. (They’re flying to Libya to compete this weekend.) He told me that he enjoyed his time at Kibuye because it felt like a family. You don’t know how happy that made me. You see it is very important for me to work in an environment where it is comfortable to work, eat, talk, laugh, cry, walk, and play together. It’s how every family should be.

So I bid “adieu” to my new, extended family…to the promoters who change their hairstyles every week, who live away from their families so they can help other Burundian families, who are afraid to drive a motorbike, but go for it anyhow…to Peggy, the new accountant, who is affectionately referred to as “Mama CSP” because she takes care of everybody and laughs at their jokes…to Cyriaque, our driver for the past five weeks, who we call “Rambo” because of his endurance driving all the promoters around to their care groups from morning ‘til night, who is the eldest son and takes care of his siblings, who deserves a lovely wife…to Jean Baptiste, who is simple and yet complicated, who walks and talks with me in the early morning, who translates for me until he gets tired or I have sympathy, who has developed a health information system with me, who is my brother…to Emile, who will fake karate fight with me, who has stepped up to the plate to cover Chantal’s position and his own, who loves his wife and children, who I respect immensely, and who is also my brother. So goodbye, Kibuye, and the others I haven’t mentioned, but will remember. May God bless the work of your hands and heart and keep you safe.

There are stories I have yet to tell you. There is my new friend, Val, who came to Burundi a month ago from Scotland with her dear (hilarious) family to build homes for orphans and their “mamas.” There is Enoch, Seth and Trina’s young cook, who took me to visit his church and home last weekend. This was my first bus ride in Buja…remember Kigali, Josiah and Gabrielle, where we were 25 people to a 12 passenger van…same idea. There are also many more stories that I will either blog about as postscripts or tell you about in person.

I hope those of you who have followed along with me have come to understand at least a little bit of why I love this place and its people. I think my parents are a big reason for this passion. They didn’t just come to work in Burundi during the 50’s-90’s, but they came to be friends with the sick and the poor. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

The next chapter of my story is still unwritten. I am applying for jobs in public health and hope to officially finish my degree on September 17^th with my final oral exam and presentation. I look forward to seeing many of you soon.

With love, Beth

Undercurrents

What started out to be another promising week with the delivery of the motorbikes and the installation of a new member to the team turned out to be disturbing. It all revolved around three separate incidents, the first involving subtle police extortion, the second involving a young man near death at the side of the road after a horrific bicycle accident, and the third involving an attempt to rob me complete with an angry mob and “justice.” I can recollect these incidents for you from my viewpoint, but there are too many details that can’t be talked about here and some viewpoints might differ. Suffice it to say, I hate, and hate is not too strong a word here, when power is used to intimidate people both on the micro and macro levels.

So in the midst of these power inequities we talk about transformational development and transformed lives. What does this look like in practice? I believe it looks very similar to liberation theology. Paul Farmer says in his book Pathologies of Power that for us to even get beneath the first level of “silence” with the poor and vulnerable, we must have compassion and solidarity. My journey brings me to this place where I must ask, “Who are the poor and vulnerable around me?” Certainly the mothers and children who are participants in the Child Survival Project are poor and vulnerable, but could the poor and vulnerable also be the young man dying on the side of the road who was traveling to the market to sell his crates of beer and the homeless man who tried to steal from me as he was looking for a place to lay his head by the lake?

My brother told me that I would just begin to understand the layers of what was actually happening in Burundi during my short time here. He was right, but there is also the challenge to look further to the layers of what is happening outside Burundi that directly affect it internally.

This intense week was balanced by the presence of Jean Baptiste’s family and niece with us at Kibuye. The tenderness and playfulness that I shared with the children made my heart happy.

Other Things I Haven't Told You

You can receive “snail mail” in Burundi. I know because I have received two handwritten letters from my dear friend, Martha. However, it takes about a month to get here from the States.

I iron my underwear now. No, I haven’t become overly prim and proper. I wash my clothes at Trina and Seth’s on the weekends and hang it out to dry. Supposedly, there is something called a mango fly that can burrow into your clothes on the line and then infect your skin. Heat kills them. Urban legend?! Maybe, but I’m not taking any chances.

I have super powers. Some of you already know about my ability to turn off street lamps. Well, since there are no street lamps in Burundi, my skills have turned to knocking off door handles. If only I could find a meaningful use for these special powers.

Snakes can fly. At least that’s what Jean Baptiste said about the snake that our cook killed in our yard. It was fluorescent, bright green, poisonous and hiding in the bushes right at the entrance of our walkway. About an hour after its demise, we spotted another one nearby. I guess there are quite a few in the eucalyptus grove. Ignorance is bliss!

There is a song about “Beth” or “Betta” in Kirundi. I know because Emile and Jean Baptiste sing it to me! I got them to sing and dance for me so I could videotape it! I promised I would only show it to Josiah and Gabrielle so you’ll have to take my word for it.