Alex talking to Saidi on the front porch of our guest house...love these guys!
Tuesday we began our time in Musanze, a district near both Uganda and the Congo. The four volcanoes were clearly visible, and our driver, Alex, took us to a place he knew well where we could look out over the twin lakes and the volcanoes. Alex (real name Alexis, pronounced Alexeeee) has driven for decades as a professional guide for those wanting to see the famous mountain gorillas, hike up to the volcanoes, or just tour the country. He has been our driver this whole time, and we have fallen in love with him. He is a pure professional- every time we get out of the car for any length of time and get back in, the car has been magically vaccuumed, reorganized, and is ready to go. I never figured out where he keeps the vaccuum. One night we were sitting at a local cafe eating dinner (boiled eggs, fresh pineapple, passion fruit, swiss cheese, and toast), and Alex told us part of his story. This is rare in itself, because although he is quick to smile and laugh when we do, he is normally quiet and reserved. As he spoke, though, in broken English mixed with the French that I could understand, I was honored to get a glimpse, albeit a tiny sliver of one, into his world. Here is his story.
Tuesday we began our time in Musanze, a district near both Uganda and the Congo. The four volcanoes were clearly visible, and our driver, Alex, took us to a place he knew well where we could look out over the twin lakes and the volcanoes. Alex (real name Alexis, pronounced Alexeeee) has driven for decades as a professional guide for those wanting to see the famous mountain gorillas, hike up to the volcanoes, or just tour the country. He has been our driver this whole time, and we have fallen in love with him. He is a pure professional- every time we get out of the car for any length of time and get back in, the car has been magically vaccuumed, reorganized, and is ready to go. I never figured out where he keeps the vaccuum. One night we were sitting at a local cafe eating dinner (boiled eggs, fresh pineapple, passion fruit, swiss cheese, and toast), and Alex told us part of his story. This is rare in itself, because although he is quick to smile and laugh when we do, he is normally quiet and reserved. As he spoke, though, in broken English mixed with the French that I could understand, I was honored to get a glimpse, albeit a tiny sliver of one, into his world. Here is his story.
(this is Alex, or as we called him, Alexee, our awesome driver/guide/
interpreter/teacher/friend)
He and his wife have five children, four of whom are away at Secondary School (6-12 grade is done in a boarding school type setting). His third child was born during the genocide. Not just during the time period, but with the actual violence of the genocide swirling right outside his house. He looked at us, his eyes big behind his glasses as his thoughts travelled back in time. "No car, no hospital," he said, holding his hands up, raising his eyebrows. "My wife, she start crying. Baby coming. It was night. Dark. No lights, no electricity, no water, no medicine. Outside, papapapapapapapapapa" and here he mimicks a machine gun with his hands. "All around, outside house, papapapapapapapa. But baby is coming. Wife crying. My children crying. I was like doctor. Baby came." We were spell-bound. "Alexee," I said, "were you scared?" His eyes widened. "So scared. My wife, my babies, outside papapapapapapapa...no leave house. Scared."
He went on to say that because of the conditions of the birth, this baby is deaf, so school for this child is very difficult. The teachers here have sometimes sixty to eighty in a classroom, and accomodations aren't made for disabilities unless children are sent to special schools. His other children are first in their class, but, Alex says, child number three is "zero in school."
We asked Alex where he and his family live, and he does an odd little shrug. His house, he says, has an X on it. The government inspects houses, and those to be condemned are marked in paint with a big red X. Whoever lives in the house then has three months to find somewhere else to live. It is rare for Rwandans to own their own house; most Rwandans rent, as in Alex's case. That struck me as hard! For a man like Alex, who works so hard and takes so much pride in doing his job so well, to own his own guide business, own his own vehicles, work for decades, and still not be able to buy a house where his family would be secure- it makes me want to revert to my childhood, stomp my foot, and say, "not fair!"
Our other driver is Saidi (pronounced Sahidi). Vastly different than Alex, but loved by us just as much. Saidi is more flamboyant, louder, and every once in a while bursts out loudly "Drink coffee- Do good!" Or "No coffee- No life!" His story is just as captivating. Several times during the trip we caught subtle hints as to Saidi's position of respect among the military community here. Entering a place that had an armed guard one night, the guard noticed Saidi and saluted him. Saidi just nodded and kept going. Here is his story.
He and his wife have five children, four of whom are away at Secondary School (6-12 grade is done in a boarding school type setting). His third child was born during the genocide. Not just during the time period, but with the actual violence of the genocide swirling right outside his house. He looked at us, his eyes big behind his glasses as his thoughts travelled back in time. "No car, no hospital," he said, holding his hands up, raising his eyebrows. "My wife, she start crying. Baby coming. It was night. Dark. No lights, no electricity, no water, no medicine. Outside, papapapapapapapapapa" and here he mimicks a machine gun with his hands. "All around, outside house, papapapapapapapa. But baby is coming. Wife crying. My children crying. I was like doctor. Baby came." We were spell-bound. "Alexee," I said, "were you scared?" His eyes widened. "So scared. My wife, my babies, outside papapapapapapapa...no leave house. Scared."
He went on to say that because of the conditions of the birth, this baby is deaf, so school for this child is very difficult. The teachers here have sometimes sixty to eighty in a classroom, and accomodations aren't made for disabilities unless children are sent to special schools. His other children are first in their class, but, Alex says, child number three is "zero in school."
We asked Alex where he and his family live, and he does an odd little shrug. His house, he says, has an X on it. The government inspects houses, and those to be condemned are marked in paint with a big red X. Whoever lives in the house then has three months to find somewhere else to live. It is rare for Rwandans to own their own house; most Rwandans rent, as in Alex's case. That struck me as hard! For a man like Alex, who works so hard and takes so much pride in doing his job so well, to own his own guide business, own his own vehicles, work for decades, and still not be able to buy a house where his family would be secure- it makes me want to revert to my childhood, stomp my foot, and say, "not fair!"
Our other driver is Saidi (pronounced Sahidi). Vastly different than Alex, but loved by us just as much. Saidi is more flamboyant, louder, and every once in a while bursts out loudly "Drink coffee- Do good!" Or "No coffee- No life!" His story is just as captivating. Several times during the trip we caught subtle hints as to Saidi's position of respect among the military community here. Entering a place that had an armed guard one night, the guard noticed Saidi and saluted him. Saidi just nodded and kept going. Here is his story.
(Saidi is the one in the blue shirt standing by me)
Saidi was a member of the RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front), the army led by now-president Kagame that fought the old Rwandan government. This was the army that stopped the genocide when all other armies in the world turned their backs. This was the army that fought its way into Kigali, the capital, reaching it 100 days into the genocide. Kigali had been turned into a ghost town by that point. Dogs and cats roamed, having developed a taste for human flesh, eating from the dead who were stacked up everywhere. The genocidaires, trying to hold the city, had in many cases used piles of corpses as barricades and shields as the RPF stormed the capital. Saidi, a machine gun soldier, was on the front line. He was among the first into this city, a city he had loved, as he fought his own countrymen to free his others. Over 40 of his family members were killed during those 100 days. He can barely talk about it now.
We have seen two sides of this soldier/guide/bodyguard/coffee-lover/patriot. One night, we were eating at a cafe near the Ugandan border. A sound exploded into the quiet night air that sounded like a gunshot (but was probably a car backfiring). He was lounging in the corner, and noticed me jump. He never appeared to move, but his body language went from slumped and relaxed to focused and confident in a heartbeat. He looked at me. "It's okay," he said, nodding his head calmy. "I am here. So it's okay." And I believed him.
His other side shone through the day we gave the children the wheelchairs from The Well donors. A little five-year-old boy, Pacifique, was born severely deformed on his limbs. As we presented his mom with the wheelchair and they put Pacifique into it, Saidi teared up. Kris, standing by him, was openly weeping already (wait till you hear about everything that happened on that day!). Tears running down his cheeks, Saidi shook his head and patted Kris on the shoulder. "God bless you," he said softly, and started trying to wipe his face. Which, of course, made Kris cry even more. When a top soldier of the RPF gets touched by a need and an act of kindness, the rest of us have no chance of keeping our composure!
Alex and Saidi- two men who shared their country, their talents, their friendship, and a little bit of their worlds with us these two weeks. We have been humbled and honored.
Saidi was a member of the RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front), the army led by now-president Kagame that fought the old Rwandan government. This was the army that stopped the genocide when all other armies in the world turned their backs. This was the army that fought its way into Kigali, the capital, reaching it 100 days into the genocide. Kigali had been turned into a ghost town by that point. Dogs and cats roamed, having developed a taste for human flesh, eating from the dead who were stacked up everywhere. The genocidaires, trying to hold the city, had in many cases used piles of corpses as barricades and shields as the RPF stormed the capital. Saidi, a machine gun soldier, was on the front line. He was among the first into this city, a city he had loved, as he fought his own countrymen to free his others. Over 40 of his family members were killed during those 100 days. He can barely talk about it now.
We have seen two sides of this soldier/guide/bodyguard/coffee-lover/patriot. One night, we were eating at a cafe near the Ugandan border. A sound exploded into the quiet night air that sounded like a gunshot (but was probably a car backfiring). He was lounging in the corner, and noticed me jump. He never appeared to move, but his body language went from slumped and relaxed to focused and confident in a heartbeat. He looked at me. "It's okay," he said, nodding his head calmy. "I am here. So it's okay." And I believed him.
His other side shone through the day we gave the children the wheelchairs from The Well donors. A little five-year-old boy, Pacifique, was born severely deformed on his limbs. As we presented his mom with the wheelchair and they put Pacifique into it, Saidi teared up. Kris, standing by him, was openly weeping already (wait till you hear about everything that happened on that day!). Tears running down his cheeks, Saidi shook his head and patted Kris on the shoulder. "God bless you," he said softly, and started trying to wipe his face. Which, of course, made Kris cry even more. When a top soldier of the RPF gets touched by a need and an act of kindness, the rest of us have no chance of keeping our composure!
Alex and Saidi- two men who shared their country, their talents, their friendship, and a little bit of their worlds with us these two weeks. We have been humbled and honored.
Thanks so much for sharing this! Awesome stories!!!
ReplyDeleteAmy,
ReplyDeleteYou captured Alex and Saidi's stories beautifully. As we continue to reflect at home, Clark and I keep coming back to those two incredible men who made our trip so special and personal.
We've already told so many people about your coffee shop!