By Gavin Sword KF9 Rwanda

I know this is not the first time that I’ve mentioned that my children are Rwandan.  We adopted Savilla and Christian in 2006 when they were both babies. Our girl turns 4 this month while our boy is a few months past 4.  They are the cutest, most adorable little people one could ever hope to know.  They are loving and friendly, kind to each other and to the people they meet.  Part of the reason I wanted to come to Rwanda as a Kiva Fellow was so that they could have the opportunity to spend time in the country of their birth.  To give them a chance to learn the language, make Rwandan friends and live in a land of people who look just like them (not the case in our current home, Vancouver, Canada). Our thinking was not that they would necessarily fully remember the experience, but that it could inform their identity and give them a sense of belonging.  Well, this was the idea anyway.

For our part, my wife and I have been making an effort to immerse the children in the culture. We enrolled them in a local preschool, we chose to ‘home stay’, meaning, we live in the lovely guesthouse of a (delightful) Rwandan family in their large and comfortable compound on the outskirts of Kigali.  This family has 3 children, ages 6, 12  and 13 who are now on school break and love to spend time with our little ones.  Their two older cousins act as babysitters for us, and we are encouraging them all to speak Kinyarwanda with our children.

To their credit, our kids have really made an effort to learn the language (as much or more than I have so far!), which delights everyone they meet.  And they are making friends, but even though they have made new friends in Rwanda and they are undoubtedly Rwandan by birth, they are still viewed differently.  It is not a friendship like one would experience in the West – it is hard to describe.  The fact is that they have many ‘friends’; they are very popular because they are different, though they look the same. In some sense, I sometimes fear they are more like curiosities–amusing to the other children.  They don’t really blend in – I have encouraged them to stop assuming other kids know all about the Jonas Brothers.

My point is we no longer have ‘Rwandan’ children–even at just four years old, they are Westerners now.  To me this feels sad, but short of moving here for good, I can’t see how to change it.  Then again, we’ve only been here one month and who knows what another 2 months will bring.  Though, if I told them that we could fly home tomorrow they would jump with glee – of that I’m certain.

So this is the real truth.  After (just) one month, this profound life-changing experience for our children is not happening like we expected or planned or hoped.  Drat! At times it feels like we are managing their impressions of this experience, which feels a bit forced/awkward.

As much as we try to convey that Rwanda is not better or worse than Vancouver, New York, or Naples, Florida (our previous hometowns) they aren’t buying it.  These are very sweet, candid, perceptive and loving children.  Being immersed in such a now-foreign land for them has amplified their ongoing, unfiltered commentary, asking questions that are at times adorable and others cringe-worthy beyond the normal bounds that most parents expect to endure.  And as parents we are doing our best to offer real answers but sometimes it’s just not easy.  Allow me to list a few below.

Why are there so many bugs here?  Why do the buses travel packed with people like that?  Why aren’t they using forks and knives?  Why does he/she smell so bad?   What happened to his face/leg/arms?  This place is filthy, isn’t it?  Where are those kids’ parents?  Why aren’t they wearing clothes?. Why is there no TV?  Why does the power always go out?  Why is everyone staring at you (Dad)?  Why do people live in such small houses?  I don’t like the smell of this place.  (When beggars run up to our car)– What are they trying to give us?  Why is our house (which is HUGE by Rwandan standards) so small?  Why is the bedding so scratchy?  My pillow is too thin.  Why do we have a guard at our house?  Why does he live outside in a hut? And why is our fence so high?  Why do fences have pieces (shards) of glass on the top of them?  Why is there no hot water for baths?  Why can’t we drink the water?  Why doesn’t anyone have any good toys to play with?  Why do people carry things on their heads?  (They love this skill and are practicing it daily with random, unbreakable, household objects) I don’t like all the mosquitoes, why so many?  (Walking is a big part of the culture here and any distance beyond half a kilometer, our children begin to behave like it’s a death march)  Why is it so far? My legs are too tired, you have to carry me!  (Which seems a bit cushy given that many kids their age and younger are walking FAR greater distances.)   Why is the money so dirty?  Why are the roads so bumpy?  Why do you and mommy want to live here?  When do we go home?  We don’t really like it in Rwanda.

We tried to enroll them in Karate the last two weeks (a bit ambitious at 3 and 4 when the average age was 7 or so). They hated it.  They lacked the ‘discipline’ of the Rwandan children who do as they are told without a break (for 2 hours!).  This did not work so well with little Christian and Savilla, after the novelty of the new karate uniforms wore off (30 minutes or so, they were quite ready to leave and cried until I came to get them).  So, now, I am looking for a soccer group for them to join of their own ages and think that might be a better solution.  Fewer drills, more free form. Also, I am tending to think that the expatriate community may be an easier one to blend with even though it feels like a cop-out or missed opportunity to engage in the Rwandese culture.  But at this point I just want them to have a good time and positive memories.  For me, living in Rwanda isn’t easy either and having the constant questions and unintended criticisms to thoughtfully respond to is exhausting.  Work at my MFI is a cakewalk compared to handling the kids in this culture. It’s hard enough to have many of their thoughts in my own head, never mind voiced within earshot of other locals who are often mightily intrigued by whatever response we offer.

Was it a mistake bringing them here?  Should we have waited till they were older and let it be their decision to come back here and not ours?  Am I just not answering their questions well enough or maybe being too honest?  Perhaps 3 months is not long enough for them to really immerse themselves in Rwandan life – or way too long for their first visit and just a two-week trip would have sufficed?  Have we raised entitled, wimpy North American kids already!?  I surely hope not.

As an aside, we recently returned to the austere but loving orphanage where we got our children, and it was a deeply moving experience.  Not so much for our children–they were happy to be the stars of the show among hundreds of kids. They handed out candies and treats and enjoyed the attention. On the wall of the room full of cribs was a photo of our family, sent from a happy Christmas in Florida, collaged with other photos of families of adopted children abroad.  A symbol of hope for those still there, though we learned that out of 140 children only 6 were slated for adoption this year.  For my wife and I, it was a moment that will take time to process.  Maybe that is the whole point of this, we are trying to process and understand this experience for our children.  They are just being kids, asking lots of questions/making comments.  If we just relax a bit more, it mightn’t be such a big deal. Rwanda will always be a part of their life even though this experience is not unfolding quite the way we expected.  As they say in Kinyarwanda; Ibyiza biri imbere – ntugire ikibazo.  Roughly translated into English it means; No need to worry – everything is going to be just fine”

So I’ll end with a little story. As I mentioned, we live in the guesthouse of a Rwandan family. The little boy, six-year-old Jimmy, is very fond of our four-year-old Christian.   Jimmy is learning to speak and write English and last night he made a big deal about coming over to give Christian a note-card he had written to him that read:

Dearest Christian,

How nice that you are here.

You and I will never be friends.

God Bless, Jimmy

Christian, of course, was thrilled when I read it to him (slightly corrected).

How nice that we are here, indeed.

Please consider a loan to an entrepreneur funded by Vision Finance Company in Rwanda – if there are no loans listed on the site for funding, please check back again in a day or so and we will have uploaded more inspiring stories.   We are short staffed and working as hard as we can to get as many worthy people funded as possible.

Also, you could join the VFC Lending Team which is a small but growing group of individuals committed to allocating their interest free – karma rich cash to the inspiring entrepreneurs of Rwanda.   Or, if you’re new to Kiva – why not join today!

PS – Gavin is beginning to meet with clients in the field and wanting to share the connection of being a fellow entrepreneur he is having a devil of a time explaining that he sells motorized shades.

By Gavin Sword, KF9 Rwanda

It is true that internationally, Rwanda is most known for the horrific events of 1994; a genocide that claimed the lives of more than 800,000 of its people.   There is no satisfactory way to comprehend what happened here.  Yet as a testament to the human spirit – life in Rwanda carries on.  The people I have encountered are not dwelling on the past – they are focused on the future.  Like people everywhere, they are intent on improving their circumstances, bettering themselves, connecting with others and enjoying life as best they can.  As a people, they are proud of their country, whatever its past, and the strides made to move on from that dark era in Rwanda’s history are nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Rwandans I have met seem excited about their country’s new role as an emerging star of Africa and a model for peace and prosperity after enduring unspeakably difficult challenges.  Wouldn’t it be nice if Rwanda becomes a shining example of reconciliation for countries around the world facing deeply ingrained, seemingly intractable issues where violence and conflict have been ‘inevitable’?

Last night, my wife and I attended a reggae dance with a local Rwandan band and many in the crowd were moved to tears when they performed a rendition of Bob Marley’s “No Woman no Cry” with the lyrics adapted in a profound and moving way.  I’ve included a portion of them below;

“Good friends we have had, oh good friends we’ve lost along the way

In this bright future you can’t forget your past

So dry your tears I say…

My fear is my only courage , so I’ve got to push on thru.

And hear me say to you…

No more gen-o-cide

No more gen-o-cide

Hey little darlin, say don’t’ shed no tears;

No more gen-o-cide….

Everything’s gonna be alright

Everything’s gonna be alright

Everything’s gonna be alright now”

Rwanda is not perfect and there are layers of healing that still must occur; this is evident even to a newcomer like myself.  So, yes, there is still much work to be done.  But as with anything in life, it is not so much where we are, but how far we have come and even more importantly where we are going.  And thinking this way makes me believe that Rwanda may just become that shining example of ‘impossible’ reconciliation, peace and healing.

There’s nothing like having your laptop, computer bag, digital camera ,that little flip video thing that Kiva provides, as well as my zip drive and wireless modem from Rwandatel (that took a good ½ day to get configured at no small cost I might add) and even a brand new electric water heater for desperately needed morning coffees to put a bump in one’s day.  I have traveled for many years and I took all the normal precautions, which made this experience all the more frustrating.  Details aside, I’m pleased to say that I didn’t curse, cry or condemn.  Here’s how I (came to) see it…

First of all, my computer was a PC and it was painfully slow and prone to viruses here in Rwanda– my new machine is a snazzy looking Mac which is much faster with nary a concern about viruses of any kind.  My computer bag was a bit flashy and didn’t really fit in with the scene here in Kigali so I opted for a canvas courier-type bag, which is much more understated and hip.  As for the digital camera, my delightful 3-year-old daughter, Savilla, recently dropped it and so the flash function didn’t work which always annoyed me whenever I went to use it. So, really that’s kind of a blessing.  I do find that Flip video thing very cool (as does my son Christian) but with Internet connection itself a rarity and ‘high speed’ a misnomer in this land, uploading video in/from Rwanda was never a primary concern, (though my son will miss this gadget dearly).  Sorry Kiva, I owe you a Flip…  The zip drive info is already on another computer at my MFI so I could get it easily from that one – not to mention the ever-useful Fellows Wiki, chalk full of all the information a KF in the field could ever want.   And the software Mozy, backs up everything on my machine anyway (my techie person at work tells me) so actually, i haven’t even lost any data!  Also, it turns out that my dear wife also bought me a hot water heater last night (coincidence!) so I actually would have had the burden of two hot water heaters had this theft not occurred.

Finally, this morning, the hours I spent at Rwandatel for a new wireless modem gave me pause to think about how I might be more careful with other important items I have not yet lost/had stolen (like my passport, cash, wallet, children etc) and by 1PM today I was back at the office with no one the wiser. How this relates to microfinance, I do not know…a cautionary tale perhaps, an inspirational one maybe or possibly just a chance to show some photos of my two adorable Rwandan children. (Taken last year outside a curio shop in Juneau, Alaska admittedly…more recent photos will be forthcoming with a new camera soon to be purchased and the promise of Mozy backup data to follow).  As my son said to me after I explained how my day went, “it sounds like it’s all ok, Dad…and Mom’s IPhone can do video.”

Gavin Sword KF9

Rainbow Over Kigali

By Gavin Sword, KF9 Rwanda

It is no secret that the rainbow is a harbinger of good things ahead.  This photo is a view of Rwanda’ capital city, Kigali after a brief rain spell.  On my very first day here, a rainbow was a happy sight indeed..

I am happy to report that I have arrived to begin my work here as a Kiva Fellow – my first day is tomorrow.  In the meantime, I thought I would (briefly) share some of my impressions thus far.

First, some perspective, I was perusing over the map of Africa in Brussels Airline’s newsy inflight magazine while en route to Kigali and I learned that Rwanda has a population of over 10 million and a landmass of approximately 10,000 square miles.  Using a useful web-based tool called “google.com”, I further learned that Rwanda is a bit smaller than Maryland with twice the population.

So, Rwanda is about 100 miles by 100 miles in area – this should bode well for microfinance efforts to reach rural regions since they are relatively close to urban centers.  Microfinance is surely needed here as I also learned that the average annual per capital income is just over $US1,000.  Ok, no more statistics, onto anecdotes!

Last night I ventured out to a café/bar and enjoyed watching a football match on TV with a room full of football loving Rwandans.  Recognizing a foreigner (not hard to spot with reddish/blond hair), several people came up to me to welcome me to Rwanda and asked where I was from, what I was doing in Rwanda and which team I was cheering for.  (Deciding allegiance was called for; I am a very newly minted fan of Liverpool’s football squad and was utterly crestfallen to see them lose to Chelsea last night).  More seriously, I was genuinely moved by the good-natured, friendliness of the people I met.  A kinder welcome to a country one could not hope to have.  There truly is a rainbow over Kigali… I am excited to be here and begin my work as a Kiva Fellow!

By Jaclyn Berfond, Laura Buhler, Alison Carlman, Joel Carlman and Cameron Morris

Last weekend the East African Kiva Fellows delegation descended upon the bustling streets of Kampala, Uganda and the banks of the Nile River for two days of intense knowledge transfer and mild revelry. We spent hours discussing the importance of data validity in performing operational cost analyses and tried to debunk the myth that OpenOffice does not properly save .csv files for uploading repayment information to PA2. We also had a little fun. We left Kampala feeling refreshed and full of ideas to take back to our MFIs.

Now it’s your turn. We are officially issuing a challenge to the other regions (LAC, Asia, Western Africa and Eastern Europe) to prove that you are as united and have as much regional spirit as the East Africans. Excuses will not be tolerated. As Kiva Fellows this is a challenge you should be ready to take on. We did it, so can you. We also made an amazing video documenting our adventure. Check it out!

Jaclyn, Laura, Alison, Joel and Cameron are Kiva Fellows spread out over the East African Region. To read more about their experiences and their MFIs click on their names above.

I am sure that many of you have read of the horrors that occurred here in Rwanda almost exactly 15 years ago, but few of us can actually envision the magnitude of such tragedy and its consequences on a society.

Upon arrival in Rwanda I have noticed many hindrances to development and I have generated a lot of criticism for the country’s economic goals etc. But my first visit to a genocide memorial changed my perspective on the place. Rather, it reminded me of the individuals that make up Rwandan society, and how truly extraordinary it is that they have managed to create a peaceful and functioning Rwanda after their experiences 15 years ago.

At Nyamata, a town about an hour south of Kigali, the capital, I was taken through a Roman Catholic church where 10,000 people were slaughtered and dismembered in the most unthinkable ways. These crimes were personal… each person was slain with deliberation and intent. Many were spectacles, butchered in front of their families and peers, killed on the church alter as the entire crowd was forced to watch. My guide, 23 year old Benoit, was there to see it all. A terrified 8-year-old forced to watch his entire community be murdered, survived to tell the tale and later become a participant in the society that so badly injured him.

I think to the majority of Rwandese that I have met, and almost all have stories of victimization during the genocide. Either that or they grew up outside of Rwanda in refugee camps often suffering from starvation and disease and other traumas that come hand in hand with living as a refugee. If none of the above, many would have grown up with their fathers and mothers in prison for having perpetrated the crimes. Ultimately, this genocide affected all in Rwanda. All. In my own society, if someone grew up with their parents in jail, we would call them “at-risk youth” and we would celebrate in if they went on to become functioning participants in society. If someone were exposed to the atrocities Benoit was at so young an age (or at any age), we may expect him to be in post-traumatic stress therapy for the remainder of his life, perhaps be prone to drugs and alcohol and have tremendous difficulty integrating back into the society that took his family away from him. If you were one who grew up in a refugee camp in Uganda, like thousands of Rwandese and like my friend Innocent, and had your sisters both die of starvation, your father die in the genocide and your mother die in an off-chance car accident, my society would probably be very surprised to see you become a hopeless optimist, one of the country’s leaders in development, and the holder of a Masters’ degree from the United States.

What I am illustrating here is the degree to which Rwanda has decided to push forward. One million people were killed in Rwanda in 1994, and many more in the previous “mini-genocides” that occurred from the 1950’s, 1970’s, and early 1990’s. That is the size of Calgary, my home town. I imagine my entire city of just over one million—obliterated.

Rwanda is an entire society comprised of people that we may have written off to be hopeless, potentially dysfunctional, if put in the context of our own society. And yet, their national motto is “hope” and they are combining efforts to live peaceful and productive lives, and to build up their country and their neighbours. Beyond doubt, Rwanda is one of the safest and most peaceful places I have ever been, however historically ironic that may be. This place truly is a miracle.

Rwanda's national symbol, the peace basket

It is clear to me that microfinance is one in a multitude of efforts in Rwanda that has enabled the country to the place where it is. Vision Finance Company (VFC) was established in 1999, just five years after the genocide. Its founders saw that if just this one area of stress— that of the family business— is put at ease through access to capital, savings programs, and insurance, there just may be less anxiety in the other areas of life. Its founders saw even so soon after the genocide that with financial security and economic empowerment often comes a safer and more stable community.

I don’t mean to sound trite, but perhaps microfinance’s contribution had more happening than just poverty alleviation. Partnered with good-governance and foreign aid, perhaps by taking away the single anxiety of financial uncertainty, microfinance helped make possible stability and peace.

If you would like to participate in what microfinance, make a loan to an entrepreneur!

Read some good news about Africa’s progress in development: Great article in the Globe and Mail !

“Allow me to introduce myself”, I’m Laura Buhler, a member of the KF8 class.

I am from Calgary, Canada and have found the transition to life in Rwanda to be very smooth, given just a couple of bumps in the road.

Exactly two weeks in to my Fellowship at Vision Finance Company (VFC) in Kigali, Rwanda, one baggage loss and one hospital visit later, I have settled in to life here in Rwanda. Since arriving, my mind has been flooded with questions and realizations about this new culture. In fact, I am sure that this constant thinking has been the factor that led to my lack of sleep at night, and my resulting illness! But it’s true… my mind is going a mile-a-minute just fascinated with this place and its infinite complexities— political, cultural, social… and commercial.

The commercial sector is very different here. Entrepreneurship seems to be taking off, but in some ways it still appears to be a new concept. Allow me to illustrate…

Lunch-time. It’s the only time of day when I’m really ready to spend the cash that I have. I am hungry! So I step outside, in very much an up-and-coming business district (Muhima), and walk for 40 minutes in either direction… no café, no brochette stand (basically kabob), and no restaurant to be found. That day, my money got me nowhere.

If some guy set up a brochette stand in this neighbourhood, he could be a gazillionaire, and he’d have a monopoly  He could charge whatever he wanted because there are hundreds of hungry business-people around ready to spend.

This is a story that continues to repeat itself. It is one of my most major realizations about Rwanda is the amount of opportunity for entrepreneurship. I suppose one could look at it as a lack of entrepreneurship, too. I think that the real case is that the combination of the trauma of the past, and general lack of good market conditions (e.g. access to capital) have meant a bleak-looking marketplace for aspiring entrepreneurs here. But the micro-banking world appears to be addressing this. The opportunity for start-ups is tremendous here, and organizations like Vision Finance Co. have already begun to seize it, providing loans for folks who want to develop Rwanda by developing their own small business… (Please read the excellent Financial Times article by Paul Kagame, President of Rwanda, as he discusses the importance of entrepreneurship.)

This is why I believe in microfinance and the role it plays in the development of economies. I believe that the first person to open a brochette stand in Muhima will play a role in developing Rwanda. I believe that when Vision Finance Co. gives her a first loan to buy the grill, microfinance is playing a role in developing Rwanda. Finally the businesspeople in Muhima will get to eat lunch! Both parties would be a lot better off.

If you have not already made a loan through the Kiva website, please follow the link to see the entrepreneur you can help out today!

It’s easier to make sense of Rwanda if you erase the human element of the Genocide that happened here fifteen years ago. If we could just pretend it wasn’t actual people who perpetrated the one million unthinkable acts, it would simplify the dynamics of the country. Afterall, if we acknowledge that it was not only people but fellow Rwandese who held the machetes, we need to also see that they still exist—and not in an abstract way but in a day-to-day, walking down the street, drinking milk for breakfast, and sending children to school kind of way.

Many perpetrators of the 1994 Genocide, or genocidaires, are in prisons throughout the country. It is likely that many others are not. Either way, those who committed the Genocide still live amongst those who survived. Prisoners do manual labor all over the country, working on plots of land, building brick walls along roads, and doing various other public works projects in plain sight. Their blue, orange, and pink uniforms (each prisoner is in one color which signifies the gravity of their crimes or status in prison) dot roads and farms throughout the country as they serve their time while the rest of the country looks on. They pass through lives as they stand packed in the backs of trucks and taken between their projects and their cells. It is a testament to the discipline and ingenuity of President Kagame that he has those who ripped the country apart now manually putting it back together. As he drives to develop his country, he is making use of those who, through violence, instilled the urgent need.

I have told some people back home about this, about the uniforms, about the prisoners, about their constant presence and my inability to grasp even a fraction of what it must be like to be a survivor and see them every day, because I’m here fifteen years later and as an outsider and even I shudder at the sight. Those back home are always shocked. “You mean you see them!” Well, yes. This is recent history—very much within the memories of those still living. One of the most complex issues this country faces is how to go on, develop, heal, when the painful past remains present. After a horrific divisiveness, how is everyone supposed to come together again?

I cannot begin to answer that question—far more gifted people than I are still grappling with it—but I would like to try to convey a sense of the impossible complexity of the issue. In January I went to visit a client in a rural part of Rwanda. We spoke to a woman who proudly showed the many ways in which she has expanded her business since receiving the Kiva loan. Afterwards, I went to the Kiva website to post a journal update on this woman but couldn’t find her on the site. A few weeks later I went back to the branch and told them she must not be a Kiva client. “Oh,” they responded, “the loan is in her husband’s name, not hers. He was just away that day.”

A month after that I discovered that “away that day” was a euphemism for “serving time in prison for perpetrating the 1994 Tutsi Genocide.” This time, the husband who had been away was now back so we were going to go see him for a Journal update interview.

I generally don’t get anxiety before meeting with microfinance clients. In my experience, there is little to be anxious about, minus some possible awkward moments or silent staring at one another if the translator leaves the room. This time, I began to panic. I knew that if I saw him as a microfinance client, he would have to be human. Previously, I saw genocidaires at enough of a distance that I wasn’t forced to remember their humanity or look them in the eye. I’m not proud to admit: I preferred it that way. This would complicate what I had been trying to simplify. A question that comes up repeatedly here is how so many “normal” people, non-violent people, certainly not killers, could have been moved to pick up weapons and kill their neighbors. It makes no sense. I knew that meeting one of these complicated individuals whose motivation I would never understand would confuse the idea in my head even more.

I spent the car ride to his remote home trying to imagine what he would be like and bracing myself to be professional despite biases. My preparation was cut short as, along a dirt road, the staff told the driver to stop the car and exclaimed, “This is our client!” He was pushing a bike with a load attached to the back, headed towards town. It had just begun to rain so we ushered him into the car, squeezing four across in the back seat of our pick-up truck.

My immediate reaction was that he had such a kind face. I noticed his warm smile and friendly greetings to the staff. Then he shook my hand and it was just like so many greetings I’ve exchanged here before. I tried to eliminate (or at least delay) my judgment so that I could focus on the Journal interview. It was brief since I had previously met with his wife and learned about his enterprises. After a few laughs and a few more questions, we were shaking hands again and he was back in the rain, pushing his bike.

It was a jarring interview for how totally routine it was. It forced me to wonder how many other genocidaires I’d spoken to, worked with, passed on the street without even realizing it. He was not a man you would pin as a killer. He was free because he had confessed his crimes, his confession was accepted as true by the gacaca court (a court system that has been established to process trials for accused genocidaires on a local level), and he had completed the assigned community service. Now he was back at home with his family, dressed in civilian clothing, and working in his businesses.

This client was the closest I’ve come to the reality that ultimately all genocidaires will be free. He put a face to the abstract impossibility that this country is facing as it frees prisoners from overcrowded prisons and reintroduces them to society. Just down the road from his house is a church in which thousands took refuge as the Genocide began. More than 10,000 people were killed in and around the church between April 10th and April 16th 1994. It’s an eerie juxtaposition.

I have no neat conclusion for this blog entry. I’ve been trying to come up with one for 3 weeks. Instead, I keep adding paragraphs that turn into ramblings but in no way neatly tie up my thoughts. Now, during a week commemorating the fifteenth anniversary of the 1994 Tutsi Genocide I’ve decided that if I wait for a proper conclusion, it will be many many years before I post this. So I’ll end it here, no conclusion, no answers, no neat sum-up and no lesson learned. I end it with more questions than I started with.

Julie Ross is currently a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. In December she finished her first placement at BRAC Tanzania.

If you’d like to support Rwandese entrepreneurs and help the country on their push towards development, please see their currently fundraising loans or join the lending team.

I’ve always been curious about what happens when microfinance clients open businesses in places where there is very little capital. Many operate small shops of household necessities but the placement of such stores is generally based more on proximity to home than a strategic evaluation of which part of town is most profitable. So how do they cope if their customers can’t afford to buy anything? Last week, I got my answer: credit.

Pen and Paper: How to issue credit, the old fashioned way

I was in the field with the Kiva Coordinator, John, collecting journals. We were meeting with a client who sells vegetables in a small neighborhood in Kigali, Rwanda. After a series of preliminary questions, I asked the client if he was having any difficulties with his business.

“Creditors,” was the translation I received for his answer.

I paused, trying to re-translate it into something that would make sense. I couldn’t quite guess what he meant, so I just asked. Without going back to the client for more of an explanation, John expanded upon the client’s assertion,

“His customers owe him money but they’re not paying.”

Ahh so he may mean “debtors,” in which case this microfinance client is both a credit-receiver and a credit-giver. Could it be? People always speak about Africa’s cash only economy and I have yet to meet a Rwandese with a credit card so it hadn’t occurred to me that there was a widespread grassroots credit system sans plastic. I shared my surprise with the Kiva Coordinator who gave me the dreaded answer:
“You didn’t know that! Everyone knows that!”
“No one ever told me!” I exclaimed in my defense.
“That’s because it’s so obvious!” John countered. Touché.

Apparently, small shopkeepers all over Rwanda accept credit in the form of an IOU from their customers. If I was going to be the last to know (did all of you already know this?) I wanted to at least fully understand it, so I dove in. What John and the client explained is that most of his customers are regulars. They live nearby and he knows them well. A lot of them don’t have cash in the middle of the month but they still need vegetables so he keeps a record of what they have purchased and at the end of the month he presents them with their tab. He keeps careful records to know exactly how much each customer owes him. When I asked to see the records, he produced three notebooks with pages and pages filled with customers’ bills.

Here, one page of his careful notes of what his customers owe

Lately, he says people aren’t paying. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel that he can stop accepting credit. If he did, “he wouldn’t sell anything,” John explained. But how does he ensure repayment? How can he get the money if his neighbors insist there is none? He didn’t seem to have an answer. The difficulty with grassroots credit, I suppose, is that there are not systems to ensure that the creditor is ever paid. He could refuse to sell to his customers until they pay, but then they could go to another vendor. He could employ some sort of social pressure since he is based in a small community and try to make it a social taboo not to pay, but if many people in the community are in the same position, that won’t necessarily work.

I don’t have a good solution as to how to get the client his money. We all talk a fair amount about the principle of credit and debt. We debate whether it is wise to purchase things if you don’t have the money to do so. As a shopper myself, I have attempted not to purchase goods on credit unless I knew I would have the money to pay for them at the end of the month. So are this client’s customers wrong to buy vegetables when they’re not sure if they can afford it? If he stopped accepting credit, sales would decrease because clients couldn’t afford the goods or because there would only be a few days each month that they could. The credit keeps his sales more constant which from a stocking perspective is wise in a perishable goods market. But if his customers are buying without knowing if or when they can pay, then credit isn’t being used properly. For me, a large credit card company would be the victim and they would ultimately sock it to me through large fees. Unfortunately, this client doesn’t have that kind of leverage. So what’s the solution? Is there a scenario in which he can keep his business profitable in a neighborhood where customers can’t pay?

If you’d like to see all of Vision Finance Company’s currently fundraising loans, click here. To join Kiva’s Vision Finance Company lending team and to support Kiva’s Rwandese entrepreneurs, click here.

Julie Ross is currently serving as a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. In December she completed her first placement with BRAC Tanzania.

Not every day as a Kiva Fellow is a good one. There are days when I wait for seven hours for a credit officer to be available to take me to the field to collect journal updates for only two clients. There are hours of intermittent internet in which I am able to load less than one page. There are the clients I meet about whom I would be inspired except that after doing the math I’m not convinced they’ve found a way to run their businesses with a net profit. Luckily, after more than 7 months of victories and setbacks, I think I’m in the black.

Small moments compensate for unpleasant hours. A coworker’s delight at a weak attempt at their local language can be contagious. The look of recognition on the faces of loan officers to whom I just presented a new template keeps me going for days. And the shy request by a client to have a picture taken with me makes me feel that my presence is appreciated.

On top of the ups and downs of the day-to-day, though, there is another secret to my contentment: the Kiva Fellows. In ways both tiny and massive, unexpected and enormously appreciated, having a virtual community of fellows makes my life infinitely better. During training in June, I left four days at Kiva HQ disappointed that after meeting so many fascinating and fun people I would ultimately embark on this fellowship solo. I only wished we could all be placed at the same MFI. Kiva said no—that would sort of defeat the purpose. Time and again, however, I’ve been able to turn to them for all manner of support despite great distances between us.

Three Fellows (Zack, Nabomita, and me) in Mombasa, Kenya--brainstorming about Kiva and how to save the world

Not sure how to shrink a photo? Wondering if anyone has an effective training Power Point presentation? Curious about coping mechanisms for language barriers? For all manner of information—from the recreational to the professional—fellows have proven to be an essential resource.

And as it turns out, Kiva has good judgment. As my Fellows class, KF5, has gradually finished up in the field, I despaired that I’d be left alone without my network of compatriots. I was entirely wrong. When I risked deportation from Tanzania, I was able to call on a KF6 and stay with her in Kenya for a week—all arranged having never met. From there I went on to intrude on another Kiva Fellow whose acquaintance I had never made but who quickly became an indispensable friend. The prospect of Christmas and New Years alone in Africa was depressing so three KF6ers and I ignored the fact that we did not know each other and made plans to travel Africa together to be in the company of people whom we knew would soon be friends.

On the job in Kisumu, Kenya--I met and stayed with Sarah

New Year's in Kigali, Rwanda--in the good company of Fellows Ankush and Sarah

Whether it’s crossing African borders to see one another or participating in email chains that gain momentum and garner nearly 50 responses from fellows in the same boat, I couldn’t live without the other fellows. It’s possible that I’ll never actually be in the same room as some of the fellows with whom I’ve been in frequent correspondence. Others I’m quite sure will persuade me to cross one or more countries just to see them again. Whether in Cameroon or Cambodia, Bolivia or Tanzania the fellows play a significant role both in helping me to get through the day and in helping me to add the most possible value to Kiva and my microfinance institution placement. There’s nothing like a real, live human resource to advise, commiserate, support, and amuse. Thanks for keeping me sane, fellows!

Jara and I did a joint staff training when we were both placed in Tanzania

Fellows recovering from a hard day's work in Dar es Salaam

To see all of Vision Finance Company’s currently fundraising loans, click here or join the Vision Finance Company lending team.

Julie Ross is currently serving as a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. In December she completed her first placement with BRAC Tanzania.

The word “profit” does not translate easily into foreign languages. I’ve now tried to convey the idea both in Swahili and in Kinyarwanda and I often come up with nothing more than blank stares or long pauses. The difficulty lies in what “profit” includes (or doesn’t). A client may answer my question as to what their monthly profit is with a confident declaration of “30,000 Francs”, but when I ask what she uses the profit for, she answers that she pays the rent and pays off her loan. If that is the case, then her profit is not in fact 30,000 Francs but rather is 30,000 Francs minus rent, loan repayment, and other expenses. Unfortunately language barriers consistently stop me from explaining this coherently.

I understand the confusion. It serves as a reminder that many of these business-owners do not have any formal training in accounting or personal finance. Afterall, for much of their lives there was probably no need for this knowledge. They began businesses with survival and advancement of their families in mind, not as a result of thorough market research or financial backgrounds. Yet despite confusion on what, precisely, I’m asking, after some quick calculations every client is able to give me some number. The only problem with the figure is that I really am not sure what it represents. I have often included these numbers in Business Profiles and Journal Updates that I post on Kiva, but I recently realized that they may be misleading so I am beginning to hold off unless I am sure that the question was properly understood.

This is not to say that clients are oblivious to their earnings. On the contrary, they are very much aware of how much is coming in and how much is going out. They price their goods extremely carefully and perfectly in line with market rate. This is particularly essential since many shops sell the same goods, and a shop that tries to sell for more than market rate will quickly lose its customers. My point is merely that a balance sheet is not something that many shop owners have learned to rely upon. Training at many microfinance institutions is improving upon this as they teach their clients basic bookkeeping before disbursing loans, but it’s not yet ubiquitous. This is why I was particularly surprised when I met Aimable, one of Vision Finance Company’s clients.

Upon first glance, Aimable’s ease with numbers was noticeably absent. There was a significant pause when I asked the size of his loan. This is particularly unusual, as this number tends to live on the tips of the tongues of microfinance clients. As Aimable produced a notebook with detailed accounts of all costs, purchases, and sales, I understood how he was able to allow these numbers to slip from the front of his mind. He kept them on paper instead. In the U.S., we might view such paper bookkeeping as archaic. What’s paper? But here, even microfinance institutions often lack computer technology and do most, if not all, of their paperwork by hand. Therefore Aimable’s meticulous calculations make him ahead of the curve, not behind.

Aimable's Balance Sheet--he meticulously tracks all expenses and income

Aimable in front of his shop, bursting into the street with his many goods for sale

As you can see from the photo, Aimable’s business is booming. In fact, he is bursting out of his small shop with his quantity of goods for sale. I can’t say that this is the result of his careful bookkeeping, but I don’t see it as a coincidence that he has both been very successful and keeps close track of his income and expenditures.

Across the board, microfinance clients are impressive in their ingenuity, drive, and ability to survive within the marketplace. With a little bit of training on bookkeeping, they could likely be even more successful. I am optimistic that in the future, such training will become the status quo. I look forward to the day when my excitement at Aimable’s papers fades as balance sheets crop up all over and eliminate the confusion over that pesky word: “profit”.

To see Vision Finance Company’s currently fundraising loans, click here. If there are none up now, please check back soon!

Julie Ross is currently serving as a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. She recently completed her first placement with BRAC Tanzania.

Training microfinance institution (MFI) staff on Kiva never gets old no matter how many times I do it. The excitement lies in the great unknown of which questions they will ask once I’ve said my piece. Across the board, the staff I meet are professional and dedicated to their work. Most have been serving hundreds of clients for years before I dropped in to introduce Kiva, so it is not surprising that they are both slightly perplexed by this new element and also extremely invested in understanding it completely. Their questions illuminate for me how confusing Kiva is upon first (or even second or third) glance. My goal is to make Kiva as small a burden as possible so that the staff both collect the required information and do not have to take much extra time to do it. This is how the trainings tend to go:

Step 1: Introduce myself and make sure to mention Barack Obama in one way or another in order to get spirits high and interaction initiated.

Step 2: Explain Kiva and the MFI staff’s role within the Kiva framework. At Vision Finance Company in Rwanda, the previous fellow trained all staff on what Kiva is and my Kiva summary serves as a reminder of what she taught them several months ago. As such, I keep it brief. I emphasize how the credit officers are the most important piece of the Kiva puzzle. If they were to refuse to gather the information necessary to put loans on the website, Kiva could not exist. I also make sure they understand that information on Kiva-funded clients will be put on the internet. We want to make sure that they impart this to their clients and that their clients sign a waiver indicating that they do not object.

Step 3: Introduce business profile templates I created in order to ease the gathering of client information. Prior to the introduction of the form, they were writing up the stories by hand based on what they knew of their clients. Committed to their work, each would spend upwards of an hour trying to think of how to formulate their clients’ information into a story. This was both time-consuming and slightly confusing since some were not sure where the story went (answer: on to the Kiva website). We go over the form, written in English, with explanations in Kinyarwanda (the local language) of what each question is asking. The forms, much as you would expect, request basic personal information like age, marital status, and number of children. The staff are also to ask their clients business- and loan-specific information like what their business is, how long they have had the business, and what they will do with the loan and the profits that result from it. The form is simple because we don’t want the staff to be scared off from completing it. They already have so much work that the goal is not to create a large additional burden. Staff are visibly relieved at the sight of the form, knowing that this means they will no longer have to struggle with daunting blank sheets of paper as they think of what to say about their clients.

Step 4: Questions. One of the most amusing parts of question time, for me, is that the questions are all asked in Kinyarwanda and usually the Kiva Coordinator takes first stab at answering them. That means that for several minutes there may be heated debate, many players involved, volumes rising, and I will have no idea what is being said. When the Kiva Coordinator determines that I should be privy to the conversation, he’ll inform me of the source of confusion. There has been a great range of questions, all of them valid, since I conducted my first training with BRAC Tanzania until now, 23 trainings later. Some examples:

• How do we know when the loan has been funded on Kiva so that we may disburse the loan?

(Answer: you should disburse the loan according to your timetable at your MFI, not allowing Kiva to dictate the timing. If you disburse the loan before it has been funded by Kiva, the Kiva funds, when they arrive, will back-fill the MFI’s accounts.)

• What if Kiva wants to give the client a different amount than Vision Finance approved?
(Answer: Kiva has no role in determining the terms of the loan. Kiva is only a source of funding and will distribute only the amount approved by the MFI.)

• If it is a group loan, do we fill out one form for each member of the group?
(Answer: If it is a group loan, the group president should answer all of the questions and the rest of the group members should be included in the table where their name, loan amount, and type of business are requested. All group members must appear in the accompanying photograph.)

• By raising funds on Kiva, is Vision Finance exploiting its clients to get money for the MFI?
(Answer: By putting clients on Kiva, the MFI is not exploiting them but rather raising the funds necessary to distribute their loans. The money raised goes only towards that loan and not into the coffers of the MFI or into the pockets of MFI staff.)

• What if the client does not want to be put on the internet?
(Answer: If the client is uncomfortable having his or her information and picture on the internet, then choose a different client to be Kiva-funded. We do not want anyone to be uncomfortable or feel forced to appear on the internet. Just because that client is not Kiva-funded, however, does not mean that he or she will not get his/her loan. It means only that the funds will come from elsewhere, not Kiva. Disburse the loan if it has been approved by the MFI and do not let the client’s choice not to appear on Kiva affect whether or not he/she receives a loan.)

• If Kiva’s funds are at 0% interest, does that mean that our Kiva clients don’t have to pay interest?
(Answer: Clients are still to pay the MFI’s standard interest rates. The 0% rate from Kiva is for the MFI so that they may have more money available to disburse more loans and to help them cover the costs associated with serving their clients. If Kiva clients did not pay interest, all MFI clients would soon hear that certain clients are not paying interest and mayhem would ensue. It is more equitable to have everyone pay interest and for the MFI to use the interest to increase their impact on the community.)

• Why does it matter that the loan amount on the form matches the amount that Vision Finance has approved and will distribute?
(Answer: Kiva values honesty and transparency. As such, all loans raised on Kiva must match precisely the amount that is actually disbursed to the client. Ifs more money is raised on Kiva than is distributed to a client (for example, if the requested loan amount is listed instead of the actual loan amount, and the two differ), the MFI will be responsible for reimbursing the loan to the lenders.)

What the trainings remind me is that if we want quality business profiles and journal entries posted to the Kiva website, then it is important that we fully explain to MFI staff why they are filling out this form in the first place. Though some have never used a camera before and many spend little or no time on the internet, all want to understand the concept of Kiva and where they fit into it. For me, working with the dedicated credit officers at both BRAC Tanzania and Vision Finance Company has been just as rewarding and informative as meeting with their clients.

Julie Ross is currently serving as a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. She recently completed her first placement with BRAC Tanzania.

The noon-day heat of equatorial sun beat down on tin roofs and dirt roads. It was quiet, the sounds a little muffled outside the paint shop of Rwandese Kiva client Marie Chantal Mukasafali.

“The business is good here,” she says, “thank goodness our inventory doesn’t spoil.”

Marie Chantal, operator of this small enterprise for well over a decade, has kept her eyes open for opportunities. She chose to begin a paint shop, she says, because housing construction became a large market in the aftermath of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, during which many buildings were appropriated or destroyed.

“I got the seed capital for my business by selling my former house.”

Today, Marie has bought another, larger house than the one she sold for her business, complete with a dining room and indoor plumbing.

Marie’s story is by no means an anomaly among the many Rwandan micro-finance borrowers funded by VFC. All around, the clients visited demonstrated keen business acumen, quick to take advantage of any opportunities they could find.

One farmer on the Rwandan-Congolese border-town of Gisenyi has taken advantage of his location to export tomatoes to Congolese merchants. A retail seller of clothes and shoes near Kigali treks to Kampala, Uganda (a nine-hour bus ride) instead of the nearby capitol to get cheaper goods to sell in his shop. An owner of a fabric store in the south of the country sells not only to her own neighborhood, but also across the border to land-locked Burundi.

Entrepreneurs who have some more savings plow their earnings back into the business, often with master strategies.

Small grocery shop owners invest in wholesale purchases of goods – beans, rice – during the harvest season, so that they can sell them for higher values during the later months. “This grain was 250 RwF per kilo when I bought them,” says shop-owner Yvette Mukamana. “Now they are 350.”

Irene Nsabyimana, a cook for a children’s school, has even invested money in school dormitories, so that more children can board at school and eat from her business.

This diversity of business strategies is no oddity. Many clients are involved in several businesses at once. For instance, one shop owner conducts buses in his off-hours. Another drives a motorcycle-taxi to make some extra money.

The work ethic encountered in the clients I have interviewed in the past few months is matched only with their generosity. A majority of families in Rwanda (almost all of the clients interviewed) are taking care of foster dependents. Many are teen-age orphans who lost their families in the 1994 Genocide.

“The vulnerable children come from so many places,” says John, my Kiva colleague here at VFC. “Some of them, their parents were killed. Others, the parents are in prison for what they did.” Then there are offspring born of rape. Families have taken in the children from all sides, as many as could be provided for, though the associated cost is often difficult.

“The school fees are very high,” says Marie Chantal.

But for the entrepreneurs, and the families they care for, Rwanda is a nation of hope and growth.

“I want to take English lessons,” says Claudette Nyiragicari, a fabric-store owner. Rwanda has just recently moved to eliminate French in favor of English in public schools. “And when can I get another loan? This loan was not enough.” She has already made enough money to pay off her current loan, months ahead of schedule. Gesturing to the bundle at her feet, she says, “I was only able to buy a few bundles of fabric.”

The call for financing is echoed all over the country. Many shared their future plans and hopes.

One convenience shop owner expressed her desire to start a hair-salon business. Another wants to start a wholesale trade, which offers better returns and faster turnover than retail.

Even John, Marie Chantal’s husband, shared his goals. “I’m going to driving school now, and want to buy a car for a taxi-service.”

Each in her own way, the clients interviewed in Rwanda are modestly working towards a better standard of life.

“I’m able to buy some more food for the kids,” says Domina Ngirimana, a mother of nine.

Yes, as I am leaving. Julie Ross, the next Kiva Fellow to be placed in Rwanda, will take over with better and I’m sure more consistent postings here. But in the meantime, a quick note on some of the staff here at VFC, whom you will soon meet in more detail:

The Managing Director, Shem, is a genial and humorous man from Uganda. He is a new director here, having done previous work in other accounting and finance positions, including the largest microfinance institution in Uganda. He joined World Vision, the Christian international umbrella organization for Vision Finance Company, as Senior Financial Specialist in Africa, then moved to Rwanda to help with financial management. At the same time, the previous MD for VFC resigned, so Shem stepped in.

Antoinette is the head for administration and human resources here at VFC. She is a graduate of Butarye university, the nation’s best university in the south of the country. She studied public administration there, and joined World Vision right after college; she hopes in the next few years to start up a training center of her own. The target population is vulnerable orphans and widows – Antoinette hopes to teach them vocational skills they can put to use in making a living.

Patrick is the operations manager here at VFC. Having studied finance in university, he has been with World Vision for fourteen years – starting with a program for orphaned and vulnerable children. His involvement in this program led him to the calling of serving the poor and disadvantaged. True to nature, he can always be found with a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.

Donat: the finance manager here at VFC. (The name does not derive from the sticky sweet, but rather the French for “Donate.”) Donat exudes energy at all hours, even late at night while slogging through paperwork generated by external auditors. “This was supposed to be over with last month!” he complains loudly, in good cheer.

Ben and Providence are the directors of the MIS (the computer record-keeping) department. Ben is technically above Providence in rank, but let’s not talk about these things over-much, as the two just got married in September. They get teased about this a respectable amount.

Jean-Paul is called the “baby brother” Kiva coordinator. But don’t let the name trick you. Jean-Paul is indispensable to the Kiva process. When loan officers come to the headquarters, bringing photographs, stories, repayments and journals, he is the one who single-handedly posts it all onto the Kiva website, producing the content you see today. Jean-Paul, as are several other members of Vision Finance staff, is still in university. He holds this full-time job during the day, so that he can finance his education; then he attends classes at night.

Then of course, there is John Gasangwa. John has been absolutely instrumental in helping with Kiva work in my time here. Responsible for all donor relations (and now, also duties as a loan officer), John was the one who accompanied all my visits out to the field, whether for training, journaling, or just plain travel. John is, of course, as loud, crazy, and energetic as befits his position. Born in Uganda in a refugee camp (his parents left the country in the 1959), he has since returned to Rwanda to “be a part of the solution,” as he puts it, with a hope to serve the disadvantaged in his country. Having graduated from Butarye with excellent marks, he aspires to go to business school in the states – but is certain, by all counts, that he will come back to Rwanda to help solve the challenges that the nation faces.

For more about the kind and wonderful and generous staff here at VFC, stay tuned for Julie! There is sure to be more to come.

Earlier this month, the Rwandan government announced that French was no longer to be the official language of communication and teaching. Currently, French is used as the language of instruction in over 95% of schools; all of them must now switch to English. In addition to schools, government workers must be fluent in English. The agenda is effectively to phase out French in the country.

I heard this news, of course, with some astonishment. Were the teachers going to learn English overnight? What were the implications of switching languages for millions of Francophone employees and civil workers? For high school and college kids already dealing with quarter-life crises? My first inclination was to interpret the announcement as a sort of grand political gesticulation, not unlike a motion for certain wars. This I read as foolhardy: postcolonialism might be all the rage, but after all I haven’t heard of Mexico abolishing Spanish.

To my surprise, my colleagues and friends took this news with all due nonchalance. Oh that’s nice, they said – it was a move that neither surprised nor nonplussed any of them. As they explained to me, the change had been justified for two reasons:

As has been well documented, the first is political. The soured French-Rwandan relations after the 1994 genocide undeniably smolders in the background of the decision. A report this year from an official commission investigating the role of France in the Genocide alleged that the French provided weapons and support to Hutu-extremists behind the killings, and furthermore facilitated the escape of militants from the pursuit of justice. Rwanda has over the past decade made several motions to sever ties with France, including the shutdown of the French embassy and the French-Rwanda cultural exchange center in Kigali.

However, the main reason on record for the move (as stated by Industry and Trade Minister Vincent Karega) is business – English is, in his words, the “backbone for growth and development not only in the region but around the globe” – while French is, he dismisses, “spoken only in France, some parts of West Africa, and parts of Canada and Switzerland.” The business impetus became even more important in recent years, after Rwanda joined the English-speaking East African Community, consisting of Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania.

Admittedly, my indifferent colleagues say, the change will not be easy for many citizens of Rwanda. But they’re not concerned, quite simply, because for the majority of Rwandans neither French nor English is lingua franca; Kinyarwanda remains currency. As with many other matters, the shift mandated by top-level announcements does not reach very far below.

By some estimates, English is spoken by 3% of the population. French is spoken by around 8%. In the marketplaces and streets, transactions continue as usual; money and goods exchanged hands as they always have, in the vernacular. Here at VFC the loan officers looked at the headlines, shrugged, and saw little of relevance for the clients they serve.

Mornings, always one rooster does not know the time of day.  As is customary in the neighborhood, most chickens start calling between five and six – but renegade number one is early.  4:30, last time I checked.

To be sure, were it not for the roosters I am guaranteed to wake soon after.  Shortly after six the children start to make pattering noises outside my door, as they run out to wash and brush and use the outhouse, and to heat the water kettle for the plastic basin in the washroom.  There are four of them – aged 7, 7, 9, 12 – plus an assortment of relatives.  School starts early in the neighborhood, and they must all start walking by seven.

These are the children of a colleague, with whom I have been staying since I arrived in Rwanda.  Their neighborhood lies 10 kilometers outside Kigali, near the military camp.  Rwanda being the land of the mille collines, the thousand hills, our house opens onto a road with a far view of the surrounding peaks and valleys, which in the mornings are liquid with fog.  With the west wind and an uncertain sun in the banana leaves it is as beautiful as you can imagine.

My adoptive family is quite a well-off one – they have a car, a few servants, a house under renovation – by no means poor when compared to the 60% of the Rwandan population under poverty line.  Simplistically, poverty line here goes by the dollar-a-day standard, which you can benchmark roughly to a liter of milk, two bottles of water, or a half-pound of passion fruit.  Meals, then, are necessarily starchy in composition – boiled bananas, rice, beans, potatoes – limited meat.

When I have eaten breakfast, I walk down the dirt road towards the main intersection where a great number of people wait, on toe like a swarm of runners at the starting block.  They must scramble to get onto a public taxi, one of the local mini-buses that shuttle between town and the local residences.  I am of course no match – you will perhaps permit me the luxury of hiring a motorbike to work, which is too a means of public transport in these parts.

Yesterday my colleague Jean and I made our first expedition into the field, which has given me a new appreciation for dust.  In the upcoming weeks we will be venturing further afield – so more to come.

–Kathy