The essence of discovery

I am finishing up for the semester, and have actually just completed my final class as a student. Its quite and accomplishment, now I just have to finish writing this pesky thesis. For one of my final papers I was asked to write about the Peace Corps and what it meant in the grand scheme of things. It just so happens that it makes a great Journal Entry. Hope you enjoy.

French Novelist Marcel Proust wrote that the essence of discovery is not in seeing new landscapes but in having new eyes. I feel that for many college graduates the essence of discovery is lost. They face a graduate’s dilemma, the realization that for the first time in their lives the world is truly theirs. There is nothing stopping them from accomplishing their dreams, yet the pressures of society tell them that their reality is one of a 9-5 job, and that it’s better to play it safe than risk it all in pursuit of an Ideal.

Five years ago I faced the graduate’s dilemma, fresh out of college, colored green, with a whole world ahead of me. Yet, there I sat looking at a map with no directions, with everyone telling me I need to get a job and start life. The question in my mind, however, was whose life? So as college graduates do, I bought into the noise, and began to go through the motions, applying to one Job after another. It was during this same time that a colleague suggested that I look into the United States Peace Corps, an organization I knew very little about, and furthermore something that most people told me was a waste of time. Nevertheless, I applied and was accepted. I received an invitation to serve in Mongolia. Matt and Mongolia just did not seem to fit together in a single sentence. To my dismay, I declined, and still listening to the naysayers, I continued to search for answers to my current dilemma.

My last real job interview was for an entry-level position at a staffing agency in Houston, and as I had been doing for the past 5 months, I was going through the motions. By this point, it was obvious to all parties involved that I didn’t want to work for this company, that I was just looking for something. And so it was, my interviewer stopped me, mid-interview, and asked me the question no one had yet to ask me, “what do you want to do?” It was obvious to him that I was searching. When I couldn’t answer his question, he told me that the job was not mine and that until I could answer his question, I would continue to live my life ”Just going through the motions”. As a man of faith; I believe that everyone has a path, and that was the day I was set on mine.

The following morning, I phoned my Peace Corps recruiter in hopes that they would grant me a reprieve. Much to my surprise they did, and a few days later, I had an invitation to serve as a volunteer on the Caribbean island of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. Saint Vincent and Matt did have a nice ring. I knew nothing of the Peace Corps other than the information they provided on their website; it was their logo that sold me “Life is calling, how far you will go?”. To me this was a fresh message, a chance for a new start. Up until this point, I had been doing what was expected of me. It was time for me to start living.

It’s been five years since I started on this path of self enlightenment, and with my graduate education all but complete, I find that I have come full circle. My decision to challenge the status quo and embark on a journey into the unknown has presented me with opportunities that otherwise would have remained hidden, such as working with coffee producers in Rwanda, educators from Iraq, and organic farmers in Trinidad. So for those undergraduates and graduates alike who are wondering what’s next, I would tell you to be bold, “Listen to yourself. Your road is the open road. See it with new eyes”.

Peace Corps Loves Saint Vincent and The Grenadines

Just thought I would share a video that a Fellow Peace Corps volunteer created, it is always nice when you get something from the islands.

Freedom From Famine: The Norman Borlaug Story

New post coming soon.... Thesis has me Busy, Until then check out the link to

Freedom From Famine: The Norman Borlaug Story

Thank you for the coffee

Flames to dust, lovers to friends…..why do all good things come to an end?

~ Nelly Furtado

Tomorrow I leave Rwanda, its bittersweet really. On one hand I am ready to come home and plant some roots, but on the other hand Rwanda is a very comfortable an exciting place to live and work.

I did no real research before coming to Rwanda or East Africa for that matter. I tend to let these types of experiences happen to me, no amount of research can prepare you for life in another culture. For the casual tourist, this would be the wrong approach. For someone who lives and works in foreign countries this approach allows me to arrive with minimal preconceptions and forces me to ask questions about life as it unfolds before me. I knew Rwanda was recovering from a civil war, but other than that I knew very little.

Since arriving 2 months ago I have learned much. First I am convinced more than ever that if 2.7 billion people are living on less than a dollar a day and majority of those are subsistence farmers that agriculture is the key to adressing many of the issue facing the rural poor. I find it hard to operate without a proper breakfast, how are the rural poor supposed to begin pulling themselves out of poverty on an empty stomach. Secondly agriculture alone is not enough, it takes a government with enough foresight to create policies that foster and invite innovation. Before coming to Rwanda I was not very interested in using my political science background and was focused solely on development, policy just was not exciting to me anymore. Having spent time here, however, has gotten me excited once more about the positive affects government can have when they operate with sound policies and a clear vision. I have visited both Uganda and Tanzania and spending time in those countries, it becomes real apparent that Rwanda carries its self in such a way that commands respect, they are striving to be a leader in terms of combating poverty, this is all a result of sound governance.

On a more personal level this experience has allowed me to grow. Prior to arriving in Rwanda I lacked the composure and confidence needed to be successful in this type of environment. I knew nothing of coffee, agriculture economics or cooperatives organizations; my success as an intern depended on me becoming knowledgeable in all three areas. I saw this as a daunting task and my first week was spent in panic. As the weeks progressed I began to realize that there is no failure in trying, rather failure comes when you do not try at all, with that frame of mind my problems began to work themselves out. I now have a love for coffee, can read a balance sheet and want to continue my cooperative education. My successes came as a result of my own personal initiative, I knew what I needed to do and there was no one around to hold my hand. While I got a tremendous amount of support from my colleagues at SPREAD, they were only affective because I told them what I needed and how I wanted to move. Things happened because I made them happen, because of this I found the confidence that I didn’t realize I was missing, it will be interesting to see how this carries over to my life in the States.

I have been told that I have a talent for the written word, I do not know what form this journal will take once I leave Rwanda but I hope to keep writing. For now I go back to a life in the States that is almost as unpredictable as the one I lead here. Two goals remain, complete my formal education and find a career that will allow me to combine my background in policy with that of development. So as I close this chapter in my life I would just like to say thank you for the coffee.

The Hitchhiker

If you’re in a developing country and they advise you to sleep with a mosquito net, you should listen because in my most recent experience this is important. There was a period of about two weeks where I was sleeping in and out of various motels across the country while conducting my research on the coffee cooperatives. When I say motel I do not mean a holiday inn, those do not exists in this country. Rather these motels are very basic, one bed, a toilet and a shower. The shower was more like a water hose with an advance nozzle trying to disguise itself as something fancy. Needless to say I never felt very clean. There is nothing wrong with this setup, I am living in another man’s country and that’s just how it’s done, again this is one of the many things you have to accept in this line of work.

During my two weeks of exploring the Rwandan hillsides, I was bitten, not by the love bug, but by another bug, probably in my sleep when I was not using my mosquito net. The thing is I took the idea of a net that keeps mosquitoes away at face value. I thought it was just that, for mosquitoes and nothing else, this was my first mistake. Apparently the use of the Mosquito net is to keep all bug outs, the title deceived me.

Returning home after 2 weeks in the field and having a chance to get cleaned up, the first thing I noticed is that I had a sore back, secondly I noticed that this was due to a large bump that had apparently taken root over the past 2 weeks. Now, cancer runs in the family and so does an over active imagination, realizing this I was a little spooked. The next morning, first thing, I was on the phone with my friend Irmi (er +me), who just happened to be a German doctor volunteering her time in Rwanda for a few months and more importantly she spoke English. Not knowing what I had, I was greeted at the hospital by her and a few of her interns where they preceded to poke at my already sore back and discuss in French what my ailment might be. After a few minutes of deliberation it was decided that my bump was not life threatening and that I was indeed bitten by something and that it had become infected, that was music to me ears, well at least the part about still being able to keep my life.

The hospital was never on my list of things to see in Africa, and yet here I was, awaiting the doctor’s plan on how they would remove the hitchhiker that had taken up residence on my back. I was seen by three different doctors each with their own idea of how I should be treated. Irmi was a proponent of the wait and see if it gets better approach, doctors 2 and 3 were ready to give me anesthesia and wheel me into surgery, where they would cut off my bump; to me this seemed unnecessary. I took the wait and see approach and returned a few days later.

Upon my return I was seen by irmi and a second German doctor plus the previous two that were ready to practice their surgery skills on me. Unfortunately for me, the second German doctor was a proponent of surgery so I was losing the battle at that point. However, as deliberations continued, out of nowhere comes a surgeon, speaking Spanish. He must have had rank or been some kind of guardian angel because when he said premira , everyone stop talking. My Spanish is rusty, but I am pretty sure he embarrassed a few people in that room. Like irmi, he was a proponent of the wait and see approach, however, he was also a fan of putting me on antibiotics for a week and so was I. If you’re keeping tabs the tally is now 2 Germans, 2 Rwandans and 1 Spanish doctor, all I needed was an American and an Englishman and I probably could have gotten a United Nations resolution on how I should be treated.

The Spanish now have two things going for them, their food and there medical care. After a week of taking medication I knew that my next moves had to be very careful, because if I played the wrong card someone would try to practice surgery on me. While the medications caused the bump on my back to shrink it did not make it disappear, the question then became who else can I reach out too and then it dawned on me; we have a nurse running the health program at the SPREAD office. Why I didn’t think of this sooner is beyond me, maybe I just got caught up in the moment or if I was embarrassed but it was the best decision I could have made. Jean (Pronounced John), our in house nurse, knows everyone at the hospital and when I went an told her my story, she knew the doctor that would both make fun of me for not using a mosquito net as well as make me feel as if I was being given some sound medical advice, something that I had not felt through this whole ordeal, his advice was no surgery and the use of a topical cream that would make my bump disappear.

As I stated in an earlier post, for some reason I have an inherent belief that I was meant to spend the summer working for SPREAD, over this whole 2 months that I have been with them I have not one single complaint, they have always been in my corner supporting me 110%, this situation was no different. Some lessons learned from this experience:

• Mosquito nets are not just for mosquitoes
• I never again want to get sick in a country other than my own
• If you get sick in a country other than your own it helps if your physician speaks your language
• Get more than three opinions
• Pray

An unlearned lesson

The gate keeper just left for dinner and with him went all the electricity, so it is here that I type this entry by candle light. Power outages are not uncommon here in Rwanda; I typically move from day to day knowing that there is a high possibility I may be without current for periods of time. You prepare for it, but not plan because these acts are random. In Saint Vincent, they would schedule the power outages and post them in the news paper, making it easy for me to plan my week around. They may do that here but I can’t read their language, so these acts remain random.

I only point this out, because a constant source of electricity is yet another thing we take for granted in America. Because it’s a common occurrence for me I am prepared, making sure I have plenty of gas to cook with and candles to burn. In America it would be considered a nuisance, leaving you to miss your favorite television shows and causing many to stand up in protest at the thought of not being artificially cooled….except for those living in Texas; that last statement does not apply. For many living in developing countries, however, lack of electricity means an opportunity to becoming involved. Act such as these provide an opportunity for you to step out of your often, self imposed bubble and become involved once more in your surroundings. This is missing in America, we need more power outages, we need more opportunities for people to take a break from their Iphones and laptops and become involved once more in life.

My theory is that the lack of casual conversation or interest in that which surrounds you is something that is unique to western culture and while I haven’t traveled through enough countries to draw a definitive conclusion it seems that those that are poor in money are rich in spirit. In Rwanda as it was in Saint Vincent what people lack in tangible items they make up for in the experiences they share as a family and more so as a community. A child may be born into a family, yet it is the property of the community and the responsibility of both family and community to see that each child is instilled with the moral upbringing that will mold them into successful adults and thus foster a stronger community. I feel that this idea of responsibility to the community is lost among Itunes and emails, something that many of the rural poor have little knowledge, Instead they sit and talk. Talking about everything from when the rains will come to what everyone will wear to their child’s wedding next week.

If I am right and those that are poor in money are rich in spirit, then those that are rich with money should posses less community spirit? In that case poverty becomes a relative word, Africa is the poster child for poverty but are they really that poor? Yes many Africa nations have food shortages and governments that are less than honest, but the people stand strong sharing what little they have, surviving often times on the belief that tomorrow will be better than today…it has to.

The point here is, as you move through your day move as if you’re prepared for the lights to go out. Appreciate what you got, for there are those that have much less, but treat each day as if it’s a wet rag, squeezing every ounce of opportunity from life as it unfolds , savoring every drop as if it were the last, a lesson that too often goes unlearned.

A plug

I should say that I am my more critical of my work than you guys. You love it, but to me its never good enough, I guess in that way I am my own best critic. My blog has gotten a lot of attention as of late, to the point where I have been contacted by http://thisisdiversity.com for permission to publish some of my writing.

This website is a global community of citizen journalists. Their goal is to facilitate awareness and understanding by bringing together diverse viewpoints on important issues

• They provide a place for people of all backgrounds to gather and be heard.
• They make it easy to access diverse perspectives on the latest news and events.
• They believe that everyone has a story to tell.

This should give me further reason to refine my craft as well as provide a creative outlet where I can share my talent with a wider audience. If you get a chance, take a look at the website and in the mean time I will work on some pieces that have been sitting idle for a while.

The Shadow of the Sun

Currently I am reading a book entitled The Shadow of the Sun, by Ryszard Kapuscinski. Kapuscinski arrived in Africa in 1957 to witness the beginning of the end of colonial rule as the first African correspondent for the Polish State Newspaper. This book is a collection of his experience throughout the continent over the span of 50 years. Kapuscinski goes beyond telling stories, rather through his writings he tries to understand and make sense of his surroundings and its people. Whether it’s trying to understand the communal nature of African villages or why his apartment keeps getting robbed, he paints a picture of Africa and its people in such a way that my experience and the things that I am seeing begin to make sense and in turn add color and substance.

Rafting the Nile.

I am not big on sequels, they rarely live up to its predecessors, I’ll try to meet your expectations but remember I am the artist and I have a license

There are many rafting companies that compete for business along the Nile, we chose a company by the name of Adrift, mainly because they advertised both Bungee Jumping and either a mild or wild river trip, along with free lodging for the night. I should note that Bungee jumping holds no appeal for me. Tying myself to a rubber band and jumping off a ledge a mile above the water only to be popped back up before touching the water, seems like a tease. I don’t see the appeal, I am looking for action. Arriving at river base, it soon became apparent that Mike and I were not the only ones tempted by the Nile, as we would come to find out that this place was somewhat of a mecca for 20 something’s from across the globe. I met people from Asia, Australia and even Austin Texas, yes a longhorn. I even met a girl from England who was afraid to go rafting but could not wait to go bungee jumping. Again, you will tie yourself to a rubber band, jump off a ledge, throwing yourself at the river, but you will not go float in it? The logic seemed flawed to me, but whatever floats your boat… or not.

This trip was advertised as 30 kilometer trip (19 miles) down the river where we would experience some of the meanest rapids the Nile had to offer. You were given the choice of either mild or wild, mild being a half day excursion where you only experience some of the smaller rapids and wild being the full day trip allowing you to experience rapids that should only be attempted by advanced swimmers and life guards, we chose the wild trip. The way it worked is that the rafting company organizes you into teams of 10, including your guide and then piles you into rafts that will comfortably fit 6 people. In my estimation, putting you into a small raft adds credence to the thought that this should only be attempted by the young and foolish and that you are going to get wet. As a matter of fact that’s the first thing they told as when you arrive at river base, you will get wet, don’t wear your shoes, don’t bring your camera and secure your bathing suit with a master lock.

In my raft I was surrounded by 9, 20 something’s from all over the world, including a fella from England who had never been rafting before, needless to say we had a lot in common. I must hand it to the English; even there most colorful language is dignified. The rest of my raft consisted of two other American a few Brazilian and that longhorn from Austin; she got to man the back of the raft and subsequently spent a lot of time in the water. I have a knack for surrounding myself by great leadership, our guide was no exception. It turns out that this trip is composed of members and former members of the Ugandan Kayaking team and the person guiding our boat was the team captain. This meant that our raft was the first to experience any rapid and that we would get swim breaks while other boats had to paddle on by.

Having never been rafting before I had no concept of a class 3, 4 or 5 rapid. A class 3 is something you might find on a great day tubing the Guadalupe River. A class 4 definitely should not be attempted in a rubber tire but still manageable by boat. A class 5 should not be attempted in a rubber raft, however I was in a rubber raft so I really had no say in the matter. Our guide would always let us know when we were about to hit a class 5 by saying in his Ugandan accent “Enjoy the Nile”, because that’s where we were about to end up, in the Nile.

We spent the day very wet, with each rapid leaving us to wonder whether our boat would stay up right, there are two worth mentioning. First is the rapid with the 15 foot waterfall, you had two options you could either veer left and go down a class 3 missing the waterfall all together or you could make a hard right and send your small rubber boat plunging into the Nile, we chose the wild trip, we were going down the waterfall right after we finished being stuck on a rock for about 5 minutes. As you can tell I don’t have a concept about a lot of thing and it was no different for a 15 foot waterfall, I wish I would have known what that was like before I did it, being in the front of the boat I got to experience it first, it happened fast and the Englishmen’s language was colorful, that’s about as much as I remember.

The second rapid, was the last of the day, they call it 50/50, because half of the time your boat flips and the other time it stays upright. Before you do it they make you paddle to shore and look at it. In my mind they are not going to make you look at a rapid that they plan on sending you down, I was fooled yet again. This rapid was ferocious, it looked like one of those you would see on that television program worlds dangerous situations. I watch that program and always with the same statement, who is that fool and how on earth was he dumb to end up floating in that mess. I was that fool and I signed a waiver stating that the rafting company receives royalties from any publicity that may result from me ending up in that mess, or at least that’s probably what it said. For those of you wondering, my raft did not stay upright and the amount of water I inhaled makes me wonder how I ever survived.

Rafting was not the only thing we enjoyed while on the Nile. It should be said that the Nile is a way of life for many people; it provides them with food for dinner and water for bathing, among other things. When were not rafting, we got to enjoy the scenery or watch life happen rather. It seemed to me that, to many of those who live along the banks of the Nile, I would like to believe that a big part of their day was spent anticipating when the muzungoo would come in their boats and flip upside down, it was not uncommon for us to see many onlookers as we threw ourselves at the river.

The end of the day was met with much relief, we had conquered the Nile and we lived to tell about it, if I completed nothing else during my time in Africa I can leave with this merit badge. After my trip down the Nile All I wanted to see was a cooler of free beer, a warm shower and a bed. When I arrived at the bus I was met with a cooler of free beer and barbeque. This rafting company employs psychics, I will recommend their business to all of my friends.

Uganda or Bust

I like the freedom that comes with being an intern. Freedom in the sense, that you have no set schedule and freedom in that you are allowed to explore and learn from your surroundings, take for example last weekend.

Mike the other summer intern is leaving in a week to return to the states, so for the past month we had been scheming trying to plan a grand adventure before he departed. One of our co workers alerted to the fact that the Nile river begins in Uganda and that there are opportunities to congregate with other muzungoo (Name less white person), load yourself up in rubber boats, paddle until the river attempts to eat you, only knocking you from your boat sending you further downstream where you repeat this process for several hours. All I needed to hear was white water rafting and Nile, I would figure out the logistical details later. In my mind there is nothing cooler than being able to tell people I conquered Rwanda and the Nile on my summer vacation, plus if you’re into using cheesy lines to meet women this should probably be at the top of the list.

For the last 2 weeks when we were not working we were hammering out the detail on our trip to Uganda, it was Uganda or bust. To see how this trip might go, the weekend before last we had planned a shorter excursion to the rain forest, with the idea being that we would go on the much advertised waterfall hike; in reality it was a chance for Mike to see a waterfall and me to look for monkeys. Pulling this off would prove to be an all weekend ordeal with Saturday spent traveling to the capital where we would buy tickets for a special bus, not the short bus, but the only bus that went to the rain forest, or so we thought. Having to wake up at dawn and wait for the bus to come collect us at the gas station in Butare, we were surrounded by people in their Sunday best waiting for rides to church while we were dressed in shorts and sneakers, we stood out. When the bus finally arrived it was packed to the brim only two seats remained with three passengers needing a ride. The correct response to that situation is don’t deliberate throw your body in the seat while tossing your bag in the other, so as to save it for your buddy. It worked out for Mike and I, however the young lady also needing a ride was not going to stand for it and proceed to screech at us in her language bringing the bus to a standstill, the best I could do was ease up and create a crack that she could hover in until someone got off.

It important to note that this is the first time we had taken public transportation by ourselves, we soon realized that we had no idea how to tell the bus to stop and that we were operating under the assumption that it would stop at the rain forest and let us off, that was a big assumption. About an hour into our trip we found ourselves traveling through the middle of the rain forest, where we saw many monkeys from inside the bus, not what I was going for but I figured the bus would stop at any minute to let me out. It did not, instead it proceeded to travel towards the Congo. Anyone following world affairs can tell you this is not a place you want to be. Luckily for Mike and I the bus stopped before we reached the boarder. Immediately we got off and bought a bus ticket home. Having lunch on the Congolese boarder it was apparent that if we were to pull off the trip to Uganda, we would have to up our game a little and come at our trip with a better plan.

With only a week left to plan we decided to not take any chances and booked ourselves two VIP tickets on the Jaguar bus line, they guaranteed us that we would indeed reach Kampala, Uganda the city where we would be picked up the following day and taken to river base where we would finally locate the windmill we had been chasing for so long. Preparing for this trip we were aware that traveling time would be 12 hours from Butare to Kampala, in our mind it was okay we were traveling VIP. Again making assumptions we thought VIP meant luxury. VIP in Africa means you get a bottle of water 6 hours into the trip The trip to the Ugandan boarder was not bad, the roads are good and the scenery is quite nice, with my Ipod in hand I barley even noticed the loud church music that was being pumped through the speaker.

Some things to note about Rwanda, plastic bags are outlawed, the roads are in good condition and citizens are required to perform community clean up the last Saturday of every month as a result Rwanda is a clean and comfortable country to live in. Uganda has none of the above; once we crossed the border in the bus it became apparent that things changed drastically. Roads became rough and sometimes nonexistent and we were inundated with vendors trying to push street food on us, something that is also outlawed in Rwanda. It’s not that Uganda is a bad place, it’s not; but the differences between the two countries are too apparent not to write about.

With the lack of paved roads the trip became a tad more uncomfortable, but I was dedicated, all I could think about was conquering the Nile, nothing would keep me from that. Occasionally the bus would stop when we would meet traffic in road side villages, giving the street vendors to opportunity to sell us food through the opened bus windows. Having my bottle of water and some crackers I was not all that hungry, Mike on the other hand became tempted and bought a cob of roasted corn, a snack I had enjoyed many time in the Caribbean, I myself almost indulged, but the bus pulled away before I had the chance. I did not know it at the time but I would be thankful for this later.

Preparing for this trip we were told that, once we reached the outskirts of Kampala we would hit serious traffic where we would sit for about an hour. 11 hours into the trip we hit serious traffic, I was pretty sure this was the outskirts of Kampala but one could never be too sure. Mike on the other hand was not going to wait around to find out, you see the corn he enjoyed earlier decided to take its revenge, or maybe it was Raymond, either way within seconds of hitting traffic Mike Jumped up, told me to take care of the luggage and said he had pressing matters he needed to attend to . Before I knew it Mike was off the bus and searching for a washroom in what I hoped was the outskirts of Kampala; otherwise he was searching for a washroom in a random village in Uganda, I had no plan on what to do if that was the case. Luckily for us both we were indeed in Kampala and the youth hostel where we would spend the night was only a few miles from where mike bailed out.

Uganda is an hour ahead of Rwanda in time, we were unaware. The rafting company was to come for us at 7 the following morning, I had my alarm set for 6 Rwanda time. I was still asleep when the rafting company arrived and poor Mike had been taking care of pressing matters all night, but I had come too far to give up now. Throwing some clothes on, Mike and I stumbled to the bus where we would travel another hour to river base completing our quest.

New Guard, Roomate, and Raymond

So it’s been two weeks since I have written anything new. In that time I have been working on an entry about a trip I had taken to see some coffee processing. Every time I sat down to work on it I found it dry and boring to write about, which in my experience means that if I am not having fun writing it, you’re not having fun reading it. It’s not that the process itself is boring; actually I am a gear head and like to know how things work so for me getting to spend a weekend experiencing that, proved to be one of the best weekends I have had. Needless to say I have received quite a coffee education in the past weeks. I’ll continue to work on that entry and see if I can’t work out the bugs.

Much has happened since I last wrote so where to begin? In one of my first entries I had written about our gate keeper, the lush. Well he is no longer the gate keeper, after much discussion between my roommates and I, it was decided that while he provided hours of entertainment he provided us with no accountability. That was an interesting dilemma for us; we had his termination letter but we always felt that his pension for alcohol made him unpredictable.

In the islands I would liken it to a Dr. Jekly and Mr. Hyde affect, when the guys were off the rum they were your best friends and very pleasant to be around, when they were on however, you really couldn’t predict how they would act, same principle applies here. Since the university employs him it was decided that the university should present him with his walking papers while we stand back and watch.

Having no TV or Internet for entertainment, all we have are our books and daily stories to keep us going at nights. When the day came for the university to let the guard go you might as well have billed this as the pinnacle of our week, if we had pop corn we would have popped it and beer, we would have drank it, as we watched to see how crazy the guard might get. To our surprise when the news was delivered instead of fireworks all we got was a fizzle. What we didn’t realize is that the guard wanted to quit more than we wanted him gone and that when the ax was dropped all he requested was back pay for holiday not taken. That was anticlimactic, no one told us the rules for the guard such as days off and lunch hours, because of that we never gave him a lunch hour and never let him leave the premise. He stated that he felt like he was in prison and was happy to leave. When the day finally came for his departure, he was singing church hymns about being free while dancing around the yard, not what I expected at all. I will miss the hours of trying to translate what he is saying and most of all having him stand at attention and salute me every time I enter the gate, maybe I can get my roommates back home to do that.

The new guard, while not as charismatic as the old fits better into our little family, him and Israel have a developing friendship which makes for a more efficient household and also we know the gate keeper rules so we no longer keep prisoners.

Speaking of Israel, we like to teach him things, whether it’s explaining how the planets move around the sun or just working through his English workbooks with him. One night he was trying to grasp the concept of where all his housemates were from and the scope of the world in general, the world is big and there is lots of water, that’s general knowledge for me and something I take for granted, not for Israel however. Realizing this I hatched a plan to locate a map of the world and label the countries with the name of each housemate. When I carried this plan out, Israel looked at it for a second and then said “the world is big and there is lots of water” and then for the next hour proceeded to grill me and my housemates about our respective countries; that was a fun night.

Speaking of housemate we got an unexpected addition to our house. One evening me and Lenar were sitting around doing a whole lot of nothing when we got a call from the University informing us that our new roommate was on the way. We were unaware that we were receiving a new person. This could have been either been good or bad. My house mates and I all have our own quirks and with not knowing what to expect we were afraid of how this would upset the positive balance we have developed throughout the house. Turns out we had nothing to fear, Zahyid our new roommate is from Pakistan and is here to help the University role out the much talked about Wireless network on campus. He has useful skills, like knowing how to kill roosters and cook them.

My most favorite part of living in the island was street culture or hanging out with your groups of local friends on the street watching current events unfold before your eyes. The reason I like this so much is because at any monument one of your buddies could appear with a live rooster in hand and that usually meant we were about to have a cook out, and I was about to learn something useful like how to kill and prepare a rooster for dinner.

When Zahyid learned about my “bush skills” (killing live animals and having cooks), he states “that’s common place in my country and because I am new we will buy a live rooster and I will cook it.” It’s at that point I knew he would fit in and the rest of my roommates were about to learn something useful. It’s in Israel job description that we can at any point send him to the market to collect groceries and dry goods for us, well the day before we killed the rooster we surprised him with a request to go the market and buy us a live rooster that we were to kill the next day.

Israel is a little timid so he immediately had a problem with this… he stated that he would get the rooster as long as it didn’t bite him and that he would not kill it, agreeing to those conditions we sent him to the market for a rooster. I usually take lunch at a restaurant in town so as to practice my French; Israel must have seen me on his way back from the market because he entered the restaurant with this very big grin on his face as if he just accomplished something huge. Sitting there having my lunch he proceeded to show me this box and he goes take a look inside. Peering inside the box was the largest rooster I had ever seen, and I must have been the baldest white guy the rooster had seen because as soon as looked in the box the rooster felt obligated to crow very loudly, alerting all the customers and restaurant staff that we had just brought a live rooster into the building, everyone just stopped and looked at us, at which point I ushered Israel out and told him to try and find accommodations at the house for this animal we were about to eat.

Yi, our Korean roommate got wind that we were about to kill a rooster, and with Israel arriving home with rooster in hand he promptly stated, “that must be our dinner for tomorrow, we should call him Raymond, my boss is named Raymond and he gives me no direction, I do not like my boss” from that point on the rooster was named Raymond. We were glad that we were only keeping Raymond for a day; he felt it was his job to let the household know that the sun was beginning to rise at 4:30 that morning. When the witching hour finally arrived, everyone in our household was present for the event, even our new guard, who provided us with very valuable advice. This proved to be a fun break from work and my daily routine it also provided us an opportunity to share Raymond, with Mike the other Intern, as well as other local friends we had made. The night was spent enjoying our dinner, as well as with me and Mike making final preparations for our trip to Uganda in the following days.

Pictures

As promised I have uploaded some Pictures to the internet. They can be found by following this web link.

Pictures

A Long Way To Get

I have been out in the field learning about coffee processing leaving me little time to work on a new entry, one is in the works. Until then here are some lyrics to a song by Bob Schneider.


A Long Way To Get
Bob Schneider


I've got a mountain to climb before i get over this hill
i've got the world to unwind before i ever sit still
i've got a hard row to hoe before my seed is sown
i've got a long way to get before i get back home

i've got so much to put down before that's all she wrote
i've got so much to give before my heart ain't so broke
i've got to find myself before i can ever be alone
ive got a long way to get before i get back home

and theres an ocean of reason that i cant explain
and theres the weight of the world like a ball and chain
and theres a big black hole inside me that i've fulled up with stones
i got a long way to get before i get back home

theres a man ive never met who looks a lot like me
theres a little place called heaven that i'll probably never see
theres a thing called peace of mind that i have never known
ive got a long way to get before i get back home

Volunteers and my first trip to the market.

So it’s been raining for three days, I was told that we are moving into the dry season, I remain skeptical. Rain usually provides me an opportunity to catch up on my reading and the little bit of paper work that comes with this intern gig and while it does those things and more, it should be pointed out that the only paved road in this country is the main highway going to the capital.
While I spent my time in the Caribbean dodging vehicles and stray dogs, I find that my walks to and from work consist of me navigating mud puddles. Just like knowing which mango trees are best for escaping stray dogs, here its soft ground vs hard ground.

There is not a whole lot to write about. I accomplished my task of getting the financial data from the coffee cooperatives, however because of the rain the internet has been down so I was not able to share the success with my counterpart in the capital, exciting none the less.

As you may or may not know, the Peace Corps is back in Rwanda for the first time in 15 years. Coincidentally Lenar is friends with many of these new volunteers. Saturday, Lenar, invited Trish a volunteer who lives in a nearby village over for dinner. Now, Lenar is not opposed to volunteerism, however, he is amazed that people will willing join an organization that advocates bathing in a river and living in a grass hut. While I did bathe in a river, my Peace Corps accommodations were not at the grass hut level. Swapping Peace Corps stories made the night interesting, it gave me a feel for what it must be like to live in a small Rwandan village. What struck me is the difference in the level of development among the Caribbean and East Africa. While I had running water and cold storage in my village, volunteers in Rwanda are forced to adjust to a life without those luxuries. I was fortunate that the challenges I faced as a volunteer were primarily cultural, while I did experience the occasional water and electricity outage, having to live a life without those things would have been challenging.

Dinner with Trish, also gave us a great opportunity to visit the local market. Local markets in Africa, just like in the Caribbean are social phenomenon. They are outdoors and serve as a place where people from the village or city in my case can catch up on the best gossip and daily news. I have been thinking lately that I must add to the social aspect of the community by providing humor for all those that have been watching the muzungu (Local word for nameless white person) roam the streets of Butare. You see for the last week and half I have been carrying around a look of amazement on my face, my trip to the market was no exception.

At the market you can find almost anything you need, whether it is bath towels, cleaning supplies or vegetables. The market in Butare is unique in that it has its own army of seamstress. Now you’re probably sitting at home thinking of ladies creating a pair of drapes with a nice electrical singer, sewing machine. As my brother would say “that is absolutely not the right answer”, the machines they are working with are pre World War II, complete with a foot pump for automation, as a matter of fact it’s the same type of machine my great grandmother had in her house in the late 1920’s. This blew my mind, because the only other ones I had seen were at the Smithsonian and my grandmother’s house.

Still with the look of amazement on my face, walking through the market I found the butchers block, where you can get fresh cuts of meat. The only other time I have seen an outdoor butcher was when I was in Trinidad doing some research on local markets, and even still that was amazing due to the lack of cold storage available to these producers. This was no exception, here it was 4 in the afternoon and the various cuts of meat along with the more obscure parts of the cow such as liver and tongue were displayed in the hot sun ready for purchase. I was reminded by a local, that the market opens at 8 AM, so if I was thinking about purchasing meat locally that I probably needed to do it at 8 AM.

My trip to the market and dinner with Trish made for a full and productive weekend; let’s just hope that the rest of my time in Rwanda will be equally as enjoyable.

An iterns life and other musings.

So apparently my online Journal has developed quite a following, it’s a neat feeling. With all the compliments I feel compelled to write more… that is good for both of us.
Speaking of pressure, my first week as a spread intern was overwhelming. Not only was I trying to adapt to a strange culture, but I also wanted to give 110% as an intern. The people I work with are nothing less than awesome, going out of their way to make me feel at home, so that has helped. Let me provide you a little background information. I am interning or working rather on the international development project called SPREAD or Sustaining Partnerships to Enhance Rural Enterprise and Agribusiness Development. SPREAD targets rural Rwandan agricultural enterprises involved in high value commodity chains, such as coffee and provide them with appropriate technical assistance and access to credit and health related services that results in increased incomes and improved livelihoods.

In the case of coffee, what SPREAD has done, is it has brought together small farmers from across Rwanda and formed cooperation. This has allowed farmers to become organized into cohesive groups providing them with greater power as decision makers as well as making it easier for specialist from across the United States to teach Rwandan farmers how to refine their coffee production so that it is certified as specialty coffee. Through the formation of coffee cooperation’s, farmers have been provided skills and technology that have given them access to international markets, whereas before SPREAD that access was limited.
This explanation is watered downed, it would take me two journal entries to really do it justice, which would cause me to lose readership, so this is what you get. Drop me a note and I will gladly pass on further information about this development initiative.

I have two primary objectives as an Intern:

1.) Assess the assets of the Muraba coffee cooperative and determine an economic value for the cooperative itself, then using that data to determine a share value for each of the members.

When I first heard my assignment I was a little frightened. Anyone who knows me knows, that I do not get along with numbers and numbers do not get along with me, this fact coupled with the fact that I am not an Ag Business/Ag Economist major left me a little worried as to how this task was going to shake out. Sitting in a room, in the center of the ring, all eyes on me just like a circus, expecting me to know the answers was over whelming. It is at this point that I had to keep my composure, and remind myself that I have been here before. You see there is more power in saying “I do not know “ rather than trying to fake it, well at least for me, I am an awful liar. Knowing this I went and did the research, finding that this is a common practice in the states and with a few financial documents I could have this task well on its way to completion.
On a side note acquiring the documents has been more challenging than the actual assignment; I am running up against developing country issues such as transportation not being available, and transportation breaking down. This is where I have to be a little forward and see that it gets done sooner rather than later.

2.) My second task and this is more a personal mission rather than intern related, this is to conduct my thesis research. I want to know how projects such as SPREAD have impacted the livelihoods of these small farmers who are members of the coffee cooperatives that were started under this project. I have my interview questions prepared, but I have found several challenges first my research objectives are not meshing with my task as an intern, so I feel like my research is more a secondary issue to my counterpart rather than something they are interested in, the challenge here will be trying to find some middle ground. I remain optimistic, it’s only my first week and furthermore I can’t afford to return to the states empty handed, it would not be good personally and even worse financially.
My second challenge is the language barrier, everyone speaks French and Kinyarwanda. I had my first interview on Friday with the manager of the Muraba Coffee cooperative. While it was successful, I realize I may have gotten lucky, because while he had a hard time understanding spoken English he could read written English without a problem. So my interview consisted of me handwriting the question and the gentleman reading them, then repeating the answers back to me. My bread and butter is with the small farmer and based on this initial interview there is a high probability that there English will not be as good. I suppose my survival depends on finding a temporary translator and getting creative with the way I organize my questions.

About the language, there are three spoken in this country, French, Kinyarwanda, and Swahili.

My French is getting better every day; I can order a cold beverage, a shish kabob with fries and say your basic greetings.

My Kinyarwanda is limited to the basic greetings and ordering a cold beverage. Learning how to order a cold beverage in Kinyarwanda consisted of Israel (Domestic Helper) giving myself and Lenar (roommate) a two hour lesson on the different verb tenses. I can order a cold beverage and the rest was a little over my head, like my research I remain optimistic that this will get better in time.

Swahili, you can pretty much forget about it I was not even aware that this was a language inside the country until Friday. I have yet to recognize it when I hear it, but who knows, like my dialect in the islands, I may return to the states a Swahili speaking monster.

Home to Butare

After 2 days of travel I finally arrived in Butare Rwanda on Saturday evening, this is the city which I will call home for the next few months. My initial impression is that its busy and seems to be a commercial hub for Rwandans living in the south.

Upon arrival, I knew nothing about my living conditions other than that I would be sharing a house with a Guy named Lenar, who teaches at the National University here in Butare. This was a leap of faith on my part, however, arriving at the house I realized that any trepidation I may have had was unjustified.

My house, or fortress rather, is surrounded by a 7 foot wall with glass shards protruding from the top so as to keep out any unwanted visitors. This wall also comes complete with a solid metal gate controlled by a security guard. This is a little excessive for my taste, however, one can never be to secure. I live in a three bedroom three bath house and have 3 roommates.

Lenar - Is a 31 year old dutch gentleman, who is here for 6 months teaching atomic physics at the university. He speaks perfect English and has been my running buddy for the last week. I owe a lot to Lenar because he has taken it upon himself to show me Butare and make me feel at home, we have become fast friends.

Gi(Gee)- My second roommate, is from Korea and is employed by the university handling much of their accounting. He is also a nice guy, mostly keeping to himself, I have not had much interaction with him.

Israel- Our live in Rwandan or as I like to refer to him, "my man Friday". Along with a gate keeper I also have a domestic helper. Israel is in charge of cleaning, shopping and any other domestic chores we see fit to have him do. When he is not domestically helping Israel spends much of his time studying English, as he sees it as his ticket to a better life.

Me and Lenar have spent many evenings over the past week engaging Israel in conversation, both to help him out but also learn about Rwandan culture and the local language, I don't think my experience here would be as rich without Israel around.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the guard. The guard is a lush most of the time, leaving me to wonder if he is really capable of guarding anything. In Saint Vincent we would refer to him as a crazy man. In my experience however, it is better to have a friendly crazy man guarding your house because he typically has a re pore with the people who would be daring enough to scale my wall.

I have spent many hours sitting on the porch this week playing Pictionary with the guard. Meaning that, he would try to engage me in conversation speaking KinyaRwanda, the local Language. Because no one in my house besides Israel can speak this language, our conversations usually consist of hand gestures, leaving me to sit there and guess what he is trying to communicate. I would like to think he is telling me something pretty profound, however, I doubt that's the case. I know its something about the army, Israel and trousers as far as the relation, I have yet to figure that out.

***** I am trying to upload pictures but the internet connection here is less than slow, so ill keep trying and get some on this blog ASAP. ******

My first adventure in Rwanda, getting lost at the airport.

So I finally arrived in Kigali, Rwanda on Saturday at about 8:00 am Rwandan time, 1:00 am Central Standard time. I should mention that I am not a good airplane sleeper, it seems like every time I would fall asleep someone would come by and serve me dinner, so I just gave up on the practice all together. It taking 2 days to arrive in Rwanda from Texas, by the time I finally did reach I hadn’t slept in about a day and half, I was tired. Now the trip itself was relatively problem free, so much so I was in disbelief, usually the flights are delayed or I miss a connection, that was not the case, notice I said relatively

My only problem came when I reached the airport. Arriving at the airport I was told that there would be someone to greet me and take me to the city where I would be living, I didn’t find that to be the case. A normal person would have freaked out. I can understand how arriving in a strange country with no prior knowledge of your contacts and no numbers with which to reach them would cause some to turn around and fly back home. Remember I once bummed a hundred dollars off a random Australian; I have been in worse situations. Playing it cool I waited and used the airport internet to send emails to anyone and everyone who wanted to know that there was a very tired person wearing a blue shirt and Khaki pants at the airport…. I actually did describe myself like that in one of my emails; exhaustion will allow you to do funny things. Upon sending my emails I found a bench at the airport restaurant and dosed off for a few hours. Waking four hours later and realizing no one has come for me, I decided it was time to find a hotel room with a phone and wait this situation out, not the card I wanted to play, but the safest bet at the time.

Kids don’t try this at home, really when traveling to a foreign country it’s not wise to let the locals dictate the price going into the transaction, for example you should try and have concept of what a fair price is for a taxi cab and one night in a hotel room would cost, I did not and probably over paid.

Upon booking the hotel at the airport taxi stand, my only requirements were, bed, cheap, safe and internet so I could have a life line. That’s exactly what I got; what I hope was cheap room, with one bed and a working internet cable, as far as safe the door barley locked but it was good enough for my purposes. Arriving at the hotel I continued my barrage of emails until finally Mike ( god bless him) the other intern in country replied back and said that the people responsible for collecting me thought I was arriving from Germany at 8 that night. So there was confusion in the schedule. I have done that, it’s an easy mistake to make, I am willing to forgive that, life goes on.

In his email he provided me with the number for Julius the driver responsible for collecting me. Now, the phone in my room could only accept incoming calls and not place outgoing calls, just my luck. Approaching the front desk, I asked to borrow a phone; apparently the only phone in the hotel that makes local calls is the personal cell phone of the young lady manning the desk and guess what it was out of minuets. In order for me to use this phone I first had to buy a phone card, which I probably overpaid for, but it’s all part of the adventure and makes for a good blog, so I just rolled with it. Finally getting an opportunity to call Julius, I soon began to get a taste, of things I will be learning while in country… namely French. Calling the driver I quickly realized that he spoke French and I didn’t. While he speaks good enough English I only understood about half of the conversation.We communicated well enough that he knew where my room was and that he would be by to collect me shortly. At that point I just wanted the day to end and my direction to be pointed more towards the city in which I will spend the summer, I told the girl at the front desk who is now my best friend to use her cell phone and call him when Julius arrived. An hour later he arrived.

When Julius, arrived he was very apologetic showing me that the schedule he had was in fact misprinted, at that point it was already water under the bridge, Julius suggested that I sleep a few more hours in the room since I paid for it and called him when I was ready to leave town, under normal circumstances maybe, however, these circumstances were far from normal. While I was extremely worn out, the only sleeping I would do was in his jeep on my way to Butare, the city in which I will be spending my summer.

Hopefully this comes out in English.

So I am stuck here in the Amsterdam airport waiting to board my plane to Kenya so that I can board another plane to Rwanda. So as I sit in the airport attempting to update this blog, I realized that when traveling to a foreign country my computer automatically adopts the native language of that country. My computer now speaks dutch? and I don't. Some other things that I was reminded of while in Amsterdam.

Military time - An important concept while traveling to other countries. Lets just say if I had remembered this that I would still be asleep in my hotel room that I rented for the day Which brings me to my next point.

The Euro - 1 American dollar does not equal many Euro. Word to the wise, figure out the conversions before you check in to the airport hotel. While the extra sleep was worth it, this combined with not knowing military has left me here sitting in an airport lobby, typing to you on a computer that speaks dutch?

Moral of the story, if I would have done my homework I would still be sleeping.

East to Rwanda

Leaving for Rwanda in the morning and I hope I accounted for everything. With the Peace Corps its was easy they mailed you a plane ticket and said come on. This time around, I am on my own in a manner of speaking, big brother is not around to hold my hand. I am a little nervous, however, I know traveling to far away places is something I do really well.

Two things I am trying not to do before I leave:

1.) Wreck my truck

I went to Trinidad over the Thanksgiving holiday and the day before I left my neighbor decided to use me as target practice, that was a nightmare. Consequently If you have happened to get behind a truck that was driving like it was hunting for the early bird, that was probably me.

2.) Don't forget Passport and or walk around money.

Even though most people realize that I am a rock star, approaching the ticket counter and stating that "my name is Matt Stellbauer and yall better straighten up" without a passport in hand would cause me to lose automatically. As not to become someones "You'll Never Guess What Happened at Work Today Story", it would be in my best interest to not forget my passport.

Secondly and this is a lesson learned in the Peace Corps. Flights from the Caribbean Islands to the United States are less than reliable. Missing a connecting flight and not having any money to buy a taco is a demoralizing experience.

Its because of this point that I carry a hundred dollar bill in my wallet. After missing my flight and realizing that I have just become destitute, I bummed a quarter off of a random Australian gentlemen to place a call. This Aussie just happened to have an envelope overflowing with hundred dollar bills. Over hearing my call and the terror in my voice, he so kindly gave me enough money for a hotel room and 2 tacos. Karma has it out for me and by god I am not going to let it down, I am about to buy some one a chalupa.

To that end, here is to a great summer filled with many adventures and interesting people.

Preperations and such

Friday was a big day. I managed to find some plane tickets that were both reasonable and did not require me to mortgage the house. Looks like I will be in Rwanda from the 21st of may till the 14 of August, with a stopover in Amsterdam/Western Europe for a week. I am looking for a traveling buddy for the week I am in Europe. Send me a message if your interested.

Injections: I am afraid of needles, I had to get 3, Not as bad as I thought. I am a little disappointed however. I go through all the trouble of building these injections up to being on the same level as major brain surgery and then when its all said and done I get a normal looking band aid. Talk about a buzz kill, I want a snoopy band-aid dang it. When I inquired about this I was told the clinic was short on cash and snoopy was the first to go. That's when it dawned on me, I just became a victim of the economic down turn. I should be grateful, I have a house and a good desk job, but I lost my snoopy band aid. I don't know how I feel about this.

Rwanda

So I begin again. Tomorrow I start preparations for my next great adventure. The thought of loosing myself for the summer is both exciting and scary, yet somehow, I know, this is what I am supposed to do.

"Taking the long way around"
Dixie Chicks

My friends from high school
Married their high school boyfriends
Moved into houses in the same ZIP codes
Where their parents live

But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow

I hit the highway in a pink RV with stars on the ceiling
Lived like a gypsy
Six strong hands on the steering wheel

I've been a long time gone now
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
But I've always found my way somehow

By taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around

I met the queen of whatever
Drank with the Irish and smoked with the hippies
Moved with the shakers
Wouldn't kiss all the asses that they told me to

No I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow

It's been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down
And I'm getting' it back on the road now

But I'm taking the long way
Taking the long way around
I'm taking the long way
Taking the long way around
The long
The long way around

Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow

Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found

Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around