Can Conflict Be Nuetral?

Yesterday I attended one of Reggie's basketball clinics to assist him run the discussion portion during which participants are supposed to talk about issues related to development, peace and collaboration. He brought me on last week because he has had some difficulty getting the boys to engage in conversation. I think that, after a somewhat rocky start, I may have made some headway.
Last week, I tried to introduce the concept of conflict being something neutral and it is the way that respond to specific situations that makes conflict either a negative experience or an opportunity for growth and improvement. I illustrated this by having two players go one-on-one with each other. Jesse, one of the volunteer participants, scored a basket and then they both sat down. I pointed out that the interests of the two parties were in conflict (Jesse's aim was to score a basket while Ronald's was to block him from doing so). All participants agreed that there was indeed a conflict and this certainly wasn't a negative experience for either party. However, none of the boys seemed swayed by the idea that conflict could be neutral. Actually, I am assuming that no one was convinced as no one but Jesse offered an opinion (Jesse outright rejected my suggestion).
Yesterday, I tried a different approach. If the boys wouldn't speak to me or to the group as a whole, they would surely talk to each other. Borrowing a couple of questions from a SFCG conversation on conflict module, I paired the boys up and had them discuss their thoughts on conflict in general, and relate what they learned from a particular conflict situation. While I was more skeptical of the efficacy of these activities, Reggie was very enthusiastic which I am grateful for. He said that he was really happy that I had at gotten the kids thinking about all these issues and relating them to their lives and to the sport. Maybe, by next week, I'll have built up enough trust between myself and the guys that they'll actually talk to me.

Houses houses everywhere but not a home for them

I have been negligent in my blog postings. A great deal has happened since I've returned from Mwanza, and I'm still processing all of these experiences and changes. I have a tendency to place people on pedestals in my mind. I realize that because of this, I am sometimes disappointed when people fall off. In many ways, this last week has been a tumbling of not only those on the pedestals, but has sent the pedestal into the wood chipper. Although, I'm still mulling over the saw dust pile in front of me, I knew that this was bound to happen eventually and I believe I now have a much better conception of reality. And after a week, as I slowly accept the limitations before me and my own, I become less angry.

On a more interesting and less vague note, last weekend, I went with Reggie and Dave (the new intern and housemate from the UK) to the soccer clinic they were running for street kids. My soccer skills are only slightly better than my frisbee abilities so I brought the construction paper and boxes of crayons I lugged with me from the states. On a previous trip to a school about a month ago, I was surrounded by children who were looking at me with great anticipation for me to amuse them somehow. After a ridiculous game of "head, shoulders, knees and toes," I stared back like a frightened deer stuck in the glare of a mac truck's headlights (that metaphor isn't overused at all). I did not want to be unprepared this time.
When the clinic started, I noticed a lone young girl watching from the sidelines. I went and sat next to her and pulled out my crayons and paper and tried to get her to color with me a little. She was reluctant at first but eventually came around. However, I was soon surrounded by kids. Young boys were running off the field away from the warm-up drills and towards my make-shift art project. It turned out to be quite interesting because the first thing that every single kid drew was a house. After this initial drawing, some would switch to drawing cars or the occasional bicycle. But most often, they would continue drawing houses, each on a new piece of paper.

What Does a Muzungo do on a Sunday Afternoon?

Yesterday afternoon, I attended my second weekly Muzungos in Kigali Sunday Afternoon Frisbee Game.  I actually loathe frisbee but I wanted to make some attempt, no matter how weak, at exercise, and I liked meeting the other expats the previous week, and I was proud of myself for overcoming my significant anxiety when it came to approaching this support.  My previous visit to the frisbee field was accompanied by much anxiety and I assigned myself largely to the sidelines.  I suppose this stems from bad memories from youth of angry suburban soccer dads (my own excluded) yelling at me from the sidelines when I missed passes, goals, ect.  Anyways, I returned to the field, feeling proud that I had faced a fear.  I played a little more this time around but managed to procure a substitute for myself so as to not completely sabotage my team's chances of winning at least one game.  From the sidelines I watched the frisbee move back and forth across the field and felt sad that I didn't have the confidence or skill to happily participate.  I didn't feel left out exactly but I saw how effective sports are in building relationships, developing communication skills, establishing cooperation, and building trust and I wanted in.  Here were a bunch of complete strangers, of all ages and backgrounds and beliefs and even languages, working together for a common goal.  In doing so, they provided affirmation and support for their fellow teammates, congratulating each other on various plays when points were scored, and telling others "no worries" when someone (mostly me) messed up.   Of course, later on that night, the new housemate put on a DVD of some Rugby matches... let's say the scenes I saw weren't exactly quintessential displays of peace through sports in action.  Maybe I'm not missing out on so much.

Trip to Tanzania

Despite the fact that I am behind schedule in the creation of my pilot for the curriculum, Danielle and I have taken a trip to Mwanza, Tanzania. It took me about two weeks to figure out that I needed to alter my strategies in order to access the information I need. Unfortunately, my self-imposed deadlines did not leave room for this learning period. I have resigned myself to being behind, and I'll figure out some way to catch up. Perhaps there may be a couple sleepless nights involved.



The trip to Tanzania took two days as buses only left once a day from Kigali and the border towns in Tanzania. Despite a rocky start to the trip (we were delayed a day because we missed our first bus), the travels went quite smoothly so to speak. We perhaps made it to Ngara (a town about an hour past the Tanzanian border) in record time due to the kindness and generousity of a British boy and a couple of pastors. The following day, we left Ngara and had our first African bus ride experience. Again, the learning curve was quite steep. I discovered that the bus companies sell the aisle space on the bus as standing space. As a result, poor Danielle ended up sharing her seat with two other passengers who were so exhausted from standing and being tossed about by the several hour bus-ride that they virtually were collapsing on top of her. The roads were surprising smooth, until the last forty minutes of the trip. Off-roading on a coach bus was quite an experience. The passengers around me quickly realized that is was my first African bus experience when I clutched onto the seat in front of me in absolute panic when I felt certain that the bus was going to tip.



The difference between the scenery in Tanzania (or the part of Tanzania we saw) is striking. Upon leaving Rwanda, the landscape opened up: instead of seeing closely clumped green rolling hills dotted with houses and huts, the hills expanded, leaving us with sites of wide open vistas. As we progressed further into the country, the landscape went flat, with the exception of huge rock formations that looked as if they were bursting forth from the ground and very unusual foliage.



Tanzania is much less expensive than Kigali and consequently, Danielle and I are staying in an exceptionally nice hotel right outside of Mwanza. The hotel manager has been wining and dining us and taking us around town in style. We have been to the best hotels, and Danielle, Barak and I were treated to a fabulous Indian dinner by the accountant and head of a mining excavation company with properties all across Africa. I am slightly confused by such wonderful service and generousity and am not quite sure what to do with myself. Normally, when I feel particularly grateful to someone, I bake them a loaf of banana bread. But alas, I have no oven to call my own. Still, the hotel manager is letting me use the kitchen to make a big Italian dinner. Apparently, good Italian food is hard to come by. I'm excited to finally cook in a real kitchen even if it has been Lasagna that has been requested rather than a cake or cookies!



Mwanza is an interesting town. Being located on Lake Victoria, and situated near the Serengiti (about two hours away) it has the potential to become a major center of tourism. However, Lake Victoria is completely polluted. I have seen some people venture into the water, but I am not that brave. The potential for parasites frightens me. No efforts have been made in the direction of cleaning up the Lake so that it could be better utilized as a tourist attraction or even as a water source for the region that is currently experiencing a water shortage. This is not because tourism isn't an important industry here. During the course of conversation with the two men working for a mining exploration company, it became apparent that tourism was one of the most important sources of income to the Tanzanian government. Barak explained that there are many NGOs and environmental groups wanting to come in and clean up the Lake for Tanzania but the government has not been interested. Puzzling and sad. Mwanza relies heavily on its fishing industry. However, due to the steady stream of pollution, the fish are rapidly dying.

Return to Fawe

Yesterday, I had my first focus group with the secondary school students who will be taking part in the training module I am currently creating.  I wanted to get a sense of their hopes and expectations regarding the skills they would derive from the workshop.  It was a little difficult to get them to start talking and they were very vague in explaining their goals for participating in the workshop.  Most expressed the desire to help people and impact the lives of others.  As the conversation built up momentum, it mostly focused upon the need for improved communication skills, especially in situations in which there exists a power imbalance, such as dealing with a parent or a teacher.  

It appears, from the focus group discussion, that young women in Rwanda are struggling to assert their independence and forge their own path.  The conflict they most encountered seemed to be rooted in the place women still hold in Rwandan society.  Although Rwanda has made strides in the incorporation of women in leadership positions, these young women are struggling with their families to assert their own career path and to prove to their fathers that they are more than competent to make appropriate and wise decisions regarding their future educational endeavors.  The written comments one young woman offered expressed frustration in that she feels an absence of professional and educational support and advice.  Young women, it seems, are still struggling to prove their worth to their families, communities and Rwandan society.  It will be interesting to determine whether or not young Rwandan men feel such pressure from their families regarding career paths.

The discussion veered to Gacaca, Rwanda's system of community justice.  While the Fawe girls praised the system for offering justice to the survivors and contributing to the reconciliation process for the country, they also acknowledged many of Gacaca's inherent problems.  The courts grant rights to victims; illustrates the government's understanding of the problems of post genocide Rwanda and commitment to help; brings Hutus and Tutsis together granting them an avenue to resolve conflicts among each other; and often provides survivors with knowledge where their lost loved ones perished, allowing for proper burial.  

However, given the problems of Gacaca (that former killers or their families serve as judges and the insecurity of survivors who identify or are even in the place to identify those who wronged them and their families), I was surprised by the girls enthusiasm for the system.  I asked whether or not there could be reconciliation without justice.  The girls looked astonished by my question and I gathered from their answer that they saw the confessions and apologies offered by perpetrators of the genocide as sufficient justice to allow for reconciliation.  It seems then, justice is in the eye of the beholder.  

 

Visit to Fawe

Amani Africa celebrated African Child's Day on Sunday. The celebration consisted of a series of performances by their youth groups from four different schools. The groups explore issues related to genocide, genocide ideology, poverty, education, and health through theatre and dance. The event took place at Fawe Girl's School in Kigali. I was incredibly impressed by their eloquence and directness in presenting controversial or painful topics through their art.
Afterwards, the other Amani interns and myself had an opportunity to chat with the Fawe girls. We found them extremely bright, motivated and well-spoken, conveying a maturity far beyond their years. Sitting on their beautiful campus with the rolling green hills serving as a backdrop, they told us how they wanted to study such subjects as medicine, astronomy and physics and we chatted about the differences between Rwanda and the United States.
When we left the school, the President of Amani Africa said: "Look at the talent Rwanda has, see the talent here! It makes me so sad sometimes." She didn't finish her thought, but I knew that she was worried about the availability of professional opportunities once these girls graduate from university.
Skills that exist here and training opportunities, aren't utilized to their full potential. There was a volunteer program that brought twelve specialists from the United States to volunteer at Kigali's biggest hospital so that people in need could access free medical services. Unfortunately, these doctors are just sitting around with nothing to do because no one knows that they are here. Freedom of the press remains a serious problem here. The emerging youth are hesitant to express their opinions as they witness the persecution of journalists who attempt to speak their mind. While I observed the discussions during the Global Youth Connect workshops, I sensed a reluctance on the part of the Rwandan delegates to discuss certain issues. I expected the genocide to be a touchy subject but they spoke of this tragedy with eloquence, and sensitivty. However, when it came to the current political situation, they were much more reticent and were surprised by the American delegate's straightforward criticism of the United States government.
I see Amani's youth groups as a means to correct the self-imposed censorship that has resulted from a climate of fear. Through music, dance and theatre, young people are encouraged to speak their minds. I hope that it is merely a matter of time before this fear finally deconstructed and trust is restored. I see so many efforts working towards this ultimate goal; however, I am also witnessing actions that are pushing in the opposite direction.


The headmistress said a few words that stuck with me: "You can give without love, but you can't love without giving."