#genocide propaganda radio in #murabi #genocide #memorial #rwanda Read my blog post on History of Rwanda, the story of #Stromae and no hello from the Prime Minister. http://microfinancemasala.tumblr.com/post/131339348047/historyofrwandaandstromae
History of Rwanda and of Stromae Genocide Memorial Murabi
I am back in Kigali with Nausicaa’s parents, Anne Marie and Joseph from Chez Lando. I had a long conversation with Anne Marie about the situation of current Rwanda and the history of Rwanda. We discussed her family’s life story and later Joseph joined us. I told them about my journey for Exchangevzw and Benevolab BNP Paribas Fortis. They had to laugh with the chicken car ride from Rutsiro. It was a lovely evening with wine, I have become part of the family. As Anne Marie and Joseph, have become my Rwandan parents. Nausicaa is blessed with parents like that and off course they are blessed with Nausicaa. I am going to be sad to leave them. Anne Marie also had visitors, the aunt of Stromae. Nausicaa and Anne Marie are related to him. The aunt, the sister of Stromae late father looks exactly like him. I was surprised. No introduction was needed, I immediately recognised his face in her. I am not going to write out family details as the situation is very similar to what I went through with my mother 11 years ago and 4 years ago with my Nigerian siblings. Meeting close relatives for the first time in your life is very tough, emotional and painful. Especially when they look like you and remember you while you have no memory of such. On top of that distant family members of Stromae are abusing his name for personal gain which makes his situation even more difficult as he is a celebrity. I am excited for the concert but I hope that he gets to spend time with the family. He is on a very tight schedule and closed off by his entourage. Everyone is very careful and very sensitive. As this is his private story that should not be exploited by any journalist.
All this writing brought me back to my visit in i Murabi was a school under construction before genocide. Genociders, priests and the French Army told Tutsi’s that they would be safe if they all came down the mountains to the school. The area is surrounded by hills. The school can be seen from any angle. When the hutsis were all brought to the school wether by free will or force, they were all slaughtered. 50,000 children and parents were killed in this school! Many of the bodies remained preserved due to the fertile soil. I saw rooms and rooms full of bodies. Some type of chalk was poured over the bodies to reduce the smell. Ten thousands of dead bodies all stacked into rooms. Babies laying on mother’s chest. You could see how they were killed. Skulls were bashed in. Small kids, mothers with the baby still on back slaughtered and still laying in the same position. Complete families murdered. It is horrible to see. Some bodies still had hair on their heads, that’s how good they were preserved by nature. A sign from God to never forget. Rooms full of clothing of victims. New clothes were stolen from the body. Only old rags were kept. Genociders looted everything. After genocider people went into their neighbour’s house and found their furniture and clothes. Imagine ? Outside on the school fields, there are signs were the French military were playing volleyball while the genociders were killing 50,000 people. Those army soldiers enjoyed soccer and volleyball on the school ground. It is almost proven now that the plane of the President before genocide whom had agreed with the Arusha Accords was taken down by the French. 38 years of research to come up with a yes the French Army/ secret service was probably implicated. The museum (past school under construction) starts with saying before colonization, we were all Rwandans. After colonization…. You know what happens. In the genocide memorials, one clearly sees how the international community was the cause of Africa’s poverty and instability. Unfortunately today, the African continent including Rwanda, hasn’t been released from the continuous meddling of European countries. An unstable Africa keeps the balance of power in the world. I always wonder why the West can accuse Developing countries of denying human rights, running dictatorships while no African President is allowed to comment on the West. If they are not operating in favour of the West, instability will be created, aid will stop and let’s call it dark foreign forces will penetrate into the country causing wars. At the end is the people that suffer. The West has drawn a character for African to which they should fit. The image of the poor African has to be remained. Today, the media continues to play a role in this. #whatthemediadoesntshowyouofafrica was a great hashtag campaign of the youth to show what Africa really is. A beautiful continent in development full of competences, talent and resources. However, there is a saying in Africa, the African owns the land but the diamonds inside belong to the foreigners. Sad, sad and times are changing to slowly due too much international involvement and restrictions within the continent. Rich countries like Congo for example are a total mess. It’s the international community playing field. Rwanda has decided that they no longer want to be forced to depend. They created a country fund named Agashiro, here all citizens can deposit money for the country. In case of instantly caused by external forces, Rwanda can depend on its own aid. They have had enough and had a tough lesson in history. I can only cheer for this country and hope other African leaders can follow this example. At the moment, the international community is trying to portray Rwanda as a dictatorship. Trust me, come and see you will learn its far off. Yesterday in the Splendid Hotel in Muhanga, Gitarama, I ran into the Prime Minister, Anastese Murakeze. His security officers had pushed me aside. I first didn’t know, what was going on. I said, who is coming as I saw big tinted cars. The rude over confident guy said: go back you will see. You will immediately recognise him. I thought the car was entering the hotel or something because why would a person need so much space ? Then a tall man in a suit walked in at fast pace. No greetings at all. For a PM, I think you should take time to greet people, your electorate. It was the Prime Minister of Rwanda. His car was closed and the engine was running. I am not sure what this is supposed to me. They got back in their convey and started driving fast. I was in front with the driver. Due to their high speed, they missed the exit. This was silly! Apparently President Kamage doesn’t even behave this way but people below him do ? I am used to seeing this behaviour in West Africa but in Rwanda? Nooo… People agreed with me, that this attitude is not tolerated and I should let the PM know.
Rwanda Nziza celebration concert in... - Embassy of Belgium in Kigali | Facebook →
Genociders took out his eyes and made him deaf but now he is taking computer classes at #Frederick Center in #Gisenyi Frederick is an inspiration #Iamable read here: http://microfinancemasala.tumblr.com/post/131281841587/frederick-a-story-of-boundless-hope-i-am-back (at Rwanda Gisenyi)
Good morning teacher #Iamable with #Frederick in his Center for #disabled children. Disability is not an Inability ! Read more on the inspiring story of #Frederick http://microfinancemasala.tumblr.com/post/131281841587/frederick-a-story-of-boundless-hope-i-am-back (at Rwanda Gisenyi)
#Frederick giving me a tour in his Center for #disabled children #Iamable Read more here: http://microfinancemasala.tumblr.com/post/131281841587/frederick-a-story-of-boundless-hope-i-am-back (at Rwanda Gisenyi)
A story of Boundless Hope, #Frederick ! The genociders cut of his hands because he refused to kill others. He is an inspiration to all of us and runs a center: #Iamable Disability is not an Inability ! #rwanda #rwandalove his story on my #tumblrpost : http://microfinancemasala.tumblr.com/post/131281841587/frederick-a-story-of-boundless-hope-i-am-back (at Kigali, Rwanda)
frederick, A story of Boundless Hope I am back in Kigali and transmitted both of my business plan. One for the tea Union and one for the microfinance agency. My journey is coming to a close end. This weekend I will celebrate the ending with the homecoming of Stromae but first I want to share the incredible story of Frederick Ndabaramiye. Frederick has a project -I am able. Frederick is also a good cyclist. He beats most people. I see a picture of a short man with no hands cycling his heart out. This is fantastic! Frederick is also a good painter and sells his work in the U.S. I was wondering if Frederick paints with his mouth. I have to find out more. Frederick arrives and he is just beyond warmhearted. He gives me a hug and a big smile, I hadn’t even noticed his hands were cut off. He moves his arms as if there are hands on them. He picks his cellphone from his pocket, drinks tea, uses a fork to eat, drives a car all without any problems. It is almost as he has invincible hands. Frederick is very smart, well educated and funny. You can not love this person. Years after the genocide, he sat on a bus and was stopped by genociders (killers, people that continued killing Tutsis after the genocide) The genociders got on the bus and asked all Tutsi children to step out of the bus so they could kill him. Frederick was then labeled as a Hutu and would not be killed. Frederick was given a machete and was instructed to kill the other Hutus. Frederick refused. Everyone was taken off the bus and the recognizable Tutsis were killed. Frederick had to watch. As a punishment for not killing the others, the genociders wanted to teach him a life long lesson. They tied his hands together and cut them off! It is a gruesome story that inspired him to open a large center in Gisenyi for other children whom were mutulated by the genocide. I visited the center and was schocked, to see it was so big. Blind kids were thought how to sow and make beautiful handicrafts. I picked up a map of Africa for my son to put pictures in. The schools teaches music, computer classes, English, you name it. It is huge. There are also children who are born with disabilities and not victims of genocide. There is also an elementary and kindergarten school. Kids without disabilities sit next to kids with disabilities. Everyone can speak sign language. Even the ones that don’t need it. Everyone is in harmony in the school. I entered a few classrooms with Frederic. They all welcomed me. We have a visitor from Belgium and her name is Francine. The children loudly said: Goodmorning and Welcome Francine! Other children did sign language to me. I told them to teach me how are you in sign language. So now I know it also. I continue through the center and enter the music room. I find a blind and deaf man playing the guitar. You can hear the pain in the music. In the computer class, I met a man whose eyes were taking out by the genociders and made deaf. The atrocities are real here but Thanks to Frederick and his team; they all have hope. They are signing, sowing, playing, doing all kinds of activities. Children without disabilities pay the fees for the children with disability. If you have no disability but your parents have, you pay half the price. This system is great. No one frowns upon you whether you are missing a leg, hand or not. In Frederick’s place everyone is able and he sure is the living proof. Disability is NOT an Inability You can visit the website of Frederick: www.iamABLEucc.wordpress.com Facebook: IamABLE Twitter: IamAble1
Day 2 at CPF Ineza Now that the first mission and holiday is over, my body has slipped back into its natural routine. CPF Ineza, the microfinance agency I am now working for has its opening’s hours from 7AM to 8PM. I thought that we worked hard at microStart. I guess I was wrong. We work long hours but not 6 on 7 like that! That meant that I have to wake up for work super early again! Pshhttt… The weather is quite cold and I am not prepared for it. Gitarama is cold. Last night I slept in a sleeping bag underneath the comforter with an extra blanket. I was freezing and the hotel doesn’t have heaters. I never thought that it could get so cold in Rwanda, while not being on a mountain. I have a severe cold, hopefully I am not getting the flu. I would be upset if I return home with the flu from Africa. I am staying in a nice hotel in Gitarama. I told Cyrille from Exchange that I wasn’t going to stay in some priest, sister or silly guesthouse again. Those two weeks in Gisenyi with the priest was more than enough. A little comfort is needed while being sick. Cyrille brought me to the Splendid, another consultant had stayed here before. Splendid it is. Yesterday, I covered with the manager of CPF Ineza the status quo of the microfinance agency. Although, waking up sick I was on a mission to complete a business plan in 2 day. When I arrived at work, I was ready to attack but I was dragged into the back room. Every morning starts with a prayer. I thought oh nooo… now I am going to lose another hour of my day. The prayer started with nice songs in Kinyarwanda. After that I was warmly welcomed by all the staff and a passage from the Bible was read out loud. Everyone then could ask God what they wanted for the day. When it was my turn, I said I needed a divine intervention on this business plan. Blessings were coming my way and more prayers. I should have taken the bottle of Holy Water to sprinkle the office. I told the bookkeeper that I had sprinkled my laptop with Holy water so whatever business plan I was going to write, it would be divine. They prayed for their manager, who had traveled to Kigali this morning for a training with Amir. They prayed for each other. I wonder if Ankelien and Pieter would pray for me as their manager in the morning and then I would bless them. Food for thought for a new morning routine. Hehe…. They also prayed for the European refugee crisis. They prayed for Europe. This was strange. I wonder they said that because I was there. I thought to myself instead of praying for Europe, you need to pray for the refugees. Vous êtes une religieuse Madame. Oui Oui I say fast. Then the questions come are you married, children, divorce oh no; c'est horrible! The entire month has been about me needing to get married and multiply. My mother had also been breaking my head about me living in sin. Unmarried, no that’s not what we do. Obey your husband is the message I keep getting everywhere. The bookkeeper told me he made a prayer so that I will marry upon my return in Belgium. Seriously, I have a job to do here. With lots of concentration, I start 40 minutes later on the business plan. My mission was to finish the written part before lunch. Pierre, the bookkeeper brought me African tea (ginger tea with milk) with cookies. I brought my own blanket at work as I was afraid to be cold. I had wrapped myself in the blanket and hunched over my laptop. The African tea felt good. I have gotten used to the taste and now I can drink this strange combination all the time. Pierre keeps asking me to pause. I get fed up, Numerien used to ask me that too. Off course I want to pause but you have given me so much work that I can’t pause ! Finally, the literature part of the business plan is completed. Pierre wants to go to lunch with me. I got nauseas when he said that. Yesterday, we had lunch in the Parish slash mall slash supermarket slash rooms slash conference center slash restaurant owned by another pastor. The buffet existed out of two types of potatoes, bananas, manioc, two types of rice and two types of pasta. Carbs, carbs and carbs again. I shoved 1 type of pasta, 1 type of rice and 1 type of potato down my throat. Oh and I get a boiled egg on top. The food was beyond bland and I decided to drip chilli oil over it to hide the taste. No, no Francine wasn’t going back to the pastor super center slash everything. I told Pierre, I needed to return to the hotel to get my medicine. He said no problem I will wait for you in the restaurant. Aghhh, he didn’t get the point. Ok let me try this again. I am too sick to eat so I can’t join for lunch. Finally, he got the point. I went to the hotel for lunch, hehe. However, it was rather disappointing I found again potatoes, spaghetti and rice but they had bouillon soup. Three plates of bouillon soup for lunch then. I head back to the office to kill this plan. Pierre hadn’t made it back. Gitarama isn’t really a happening town. Very boring. I could never stay here more than 3 days. If there is ever a 2 week mission in Gitarama, I will have to politely decline. After some time, Pierre walks in and sees me number crunching. We are now on the financial part of the plan. He gave me a little help but I expected much more. Jean de adieu and I had worked so hard together on the financial plan of the Union. This time I was on my own. I had to create context from numbers and papers but with divine intervention everything would turn out alright. Pierre told me if you believe, everything is possible. So let’s see about this. It’s getting very dark outside and I am still number crunching. The Microfinance agency is full of people. Everyone comes late in the night. On one of the doors in the office, I notice a sign VIP. VIP in a Microfinance office ? Really? The smallest loan is 10000 Rwandan Francs about 12 Euro. So I am guessing VIP customers are 50 euro?! Not sure. The Microfinance agency runs different than microStart. They want profits; I don’t like that. I don’t agree with making profits on the poor. Interest rates are accordingly in the country and in CPF Ineza they vary between 18 and 24 % annually. What’s good about this cooperative is that they also provide microsavings as of 500 Rwandan Francs, 7.5 euro. Their products are according to sector. This is a tip, I am taking home to microStart and the interest rates are negotiable. Finally, the plan is finished. I have arrived. My neck is broken and I haven’t drank a sip of water. That is how focused I was. Upstairs from the office, there is a Church. The entire building was shaking but that didn’t bother me at all. I was on a mission. I gave Pierre, the flash drive and he began to print it out. I said I am leaving immediately. He got sad. I first had to sit down in the living room. Ohhhh nooo… I just want to get a hot shower. He started by telling me how fantastic, smart, great…. Etc I was. I was very thankful and flattered but my mission was to leave asap. We took a selfie and left. I snapped another picture of the calendar that was on the wall. A calendar of the board of directors of the Microfinance agency CPF Ineza. Another one I need to take to microStart. Lol It is too late to drive to Kigali so another night in the Splenid it is. I saw a cooperative of pottery around here so before I leave in the morning, I will pass by there. Maybe I can find something cute for the house ? I have given almost all my clothes away so there is space in my bag again. Let me rest because tomorrow afternoon is a full of meetings in Kigali. Night night
Mission CPS Ineza, Microfinance in Gitarama, Rwanda.
Photo with Cyrille, country coordinator Rwanda and Chantal microfinance manager CPS Ineza in Gitarama.
A new mission in Gitarama is awaiting me! This time I will be working for CPS Ineza, a microfinance agency in need of a business plan. Organised by BNP Paribas Benevolab & Exchange. My holiday has come to an end. Our last stop was in Gisenyi, where I went to Pfunda to see Numerien and Jean de Dieu of the tea farmers Union in Rwanda. Numerien was excited to meet my mom. We discussed his work, last week and prepared for my next meeting in Kigali with the Rwandan Board of Development. This meeting went excellent I was able to present BNP and Exhange plus inform them about the field issues of the poor tea pluckers. I really wanted my mom to see Gisenyi, as I loved the place. I was told to stay at the sisters of Gisenyi. I had already stayed in Serena. So why not try the sisters. People supposedly go on honeymoon there. We got to the sisters and saw that it was another basic room. Oh No, I thought to myself, I have had enough of that during mission time. My mom said she could only stay in such a place if it was for God. In the name of the spirit she didn’t dare to cancel so we took the room. My mom was complaining about the smell and insects. All of a sudden I got bitten everywhere. This is not a honeymoon place! We requested another room. As soon as we got in, we took the blankets off and threw them in a closet. My mom poured Holy water everywhere. I told her we should leave. She said for God, I can stay. The sisters prepared us a lovely dinner and Frederique came over for dinner. All of a sudden a cat appeared underneath the table. My mom went crazy. She doesn’t believe of having pets in the house. She is also convinced cats can carry negative spirits. She ran into the room to pray. While Frederique was leaving the sisters had locked us in. Finally straw for my mom! She had decided that this place was haunted and we needed to go. We woke up the sisters, insisted we had to leave for an early flight and paid. They didn’t believe us. They had overheard my mom complaining about having pets in the house. God had revealed a secret to her. At 10:30 pm, we arrive in Serena Hotel. 5star hotel, she will be able to sleep now. The sisters wasn’t a Holy Place so mom couldn’t stay in basic accommodation. I am starting to wonder who the African is. Definitely not her because like she says: this is rubbish. In Gisenyi, we shopped at a lady cooperative and I bought lots of African fabric bags and gifts to take to Belgian. I had told to my mom to break the price as I hadn’t haggled in Rwanda. She fought for the price but then we converted in dollars, we realised we were fighting over 2 dollars. My God when mom realised that we both felt bad. She was thinking in Nairas and I was thinking in Rwandan Francs.
Later that day, we found a worm in my new pants in my suitcase and you don’t want to know what she thought of that. First page in the Bible, subdue the Animal and be aware of evil spirits. Mother always has a crazy story to tell. People can’t be trusted, you have to lock all doors and always sleep with underwear because intruders are everywhere. She tells me all the time: You don’t know Africa my daughter. Well having spend a lot of time in West Africa, I agree with her statement. However, we are in East Africa, where the culture is totally different. Safety and security is the number one priority of Rwanda. Second is eradicating poverty and advancement. There is no corruption here and crooks and thieves are as good as none. She will have to learn the new Africa. This time when I brought her to the airport, I didn’t cry. As I am sure, we will see each other soon again. We won’t let four years pass. Through circumstances we have been apart for a long time. On this trip, she had a chance to Skype with my son (seeing his face for the first time) and with my brother after ten years. Through Skype we were all in 1 room for the very first time. Initially, I had planned to travel alone throughout Rwanda but I was very glad, she came along on this journey. It was a lot of laughter this time and less tears.
Nyanza King’s Palace The plan was to see the whole Rwanda in 7 days. So we now arrived in Nyanza to see the King’s Palace. Before booking this I didn’t google online. I was expecting a large palace but I was wrong. I kept on asking ‘Are you sure this is the King’s Palace?’ I don’t see a palace, this is giant hut. Little did I know about how the ancestors lived. We decided to hire a guide so I could understand everything. My mom had been whining because the journey is quite heavy. Long car drives to arrive at amazing things. She loved Nyungwe, Kibuye and the Holy Land. She thought I was over exaggerating but I want her to learn and see. She is too materialistic and needs to enjoy other cultures. I need her to see there is a life outside of the Church. Surprisingly enough she wanted to see the King’s Palace and took great interest till they started speaking of Sacred Cows. The King’s Palace is wonderful. It is a compound with 3 smaller huts and 1 large hut for the King and Queen. In front of the hut there is a semi circle. The King would sit on his throne in the entrance. (The chair I am sitting on in the hut.) My mom kept on asking where is the large throne with decoration. She was baffled to see it was small wooden chairs. Nothing compared to the lavish ancient Nigerian kings, she said. Everyone who wanted to visit the King, first had to stand in front of the semi circle and request entrance. If the King agreed that they could enter, shoes, sandals had to be taken of before entering the hut. The hut could be entered via the side opening. No one was allowed to step over the semicircle. This was considered disrespectful. One was never allowed to turn their back at the hut neither. There were many school children visiting as well and all of them stepped over the semi-circle and turn their back. Respect culture always is the message but they didn’t . The hut was very large. I was beyond surprised when I walked in. There was a seating side for ladies and one for men. There was a common living room to receive guests and a large wood ancient heater in the middle. The King’s bed was bigger than a king’s size. There was a King entrance and the queen had to climb on the bed from the back. There was a maid area that would sing to get the King sexually aroused. While making love the maids would sing louder and clap hard to keep the King in the mood. In the hut there was also an area where the Queen could receive her friends or ladies. The children of the King each had their own hut. No one lives together with the King. From the King’s hut we walked over to the milk hut. Milk was considered special and the milkmaid had to be a virgin. She was trained and selected to become a milkmaid at age 14. The milk was kept in the hut and she made dairy products for the King. She also first tasted the milk to make sure there was no poison involved. The milkmaid hut had storage facilities in different size of paniers. The milk maid was only released from her duties and the end of the King’s reign. Before that she had to stay Virgin single. From the milk hut we walked to the beer hut. In the beer hut, a young boy lived and had to conduct quality control on the honey and banana beer. Fermented alcohol thus. Like they do in jail with potato and orange peels. These type of alcohols hold sometimes more than 90% alcohol. The King loves honey beer. The quality control boy received beer from all over the country and had to taste it. If it was bad, the beer was send away. This hut didn’t have a semi circle because when the boy would be drunk. He would fall. Semi circles are now in cement but they used to be in colored red and white earth. No man could enter the milk maid hut and no woman could enter the beer hut. From there we walk over to the sacred cows. My mother can not deal with animal worships and didn’t want to touch the cows. So I forced her :) The cow herder sang for the cows and they liked it. I was allowed to enter and touch the cows on their heads. When you touch them in between their horns they become almost catonic. The guide told me that these cows also exits in Belgium. I don’t think that’s true, I have never seen a cow like that. They resembled the longhorn cows in Texas. After spending time with the Holy cows, we visited the modern palace of the last King. Aha there is a stone palace :) This palace was given by the Belgians in 1932 as a bribe to the King. The King’s father was deported from Rwanda as he didn’t want colonisation. In order to get the son on the Belgian side, they blinded him with money. He received a countryside type of house because that’s what the palace looks like. (It even had a wine cellar.) He received a Volkswagen and a Porsche. He loved the money. He started wearing European clothing instead of the traditional King’s wear. He was also the first King to live in a brick house. Inside the palace, pictures weren’t allowed. I found it very unfortunate. It had pictures of the Rwandan King in Belgium standing in the Parliament. They had completely corrupted it. When the King find out what the hidden agenda of the Belgian was and decided to turn against them. He was mysteriously killed. During his reign, he had build another palace across from the first palace but never had to chance to use it. Nothing comes free in live. This makes me reflect on development aid. As nothing is free in life so is Development aid. It comes with conditions. Maybe development aid is a disguised version of colonialism ? You receive the finances if you follow the rules. Maybe it is time to learn from our history. I understood that Rwanda has created a fund in which people can donate money. This fund can be used in case of emergency so that the country in crisis doesn’t need to rely on development aid. Very clever, Kagame. Rwandans understand that they have to help themselves. No one can. Greediness can ruin a country.