A Christmas Eve Journey

                Some of you have read my January Prayer Letter and some have not, I know. In it I wrote about the woman behind the Christmas Eve journey. Here I would like to share with you the journey itself.

               Christmas in Kigali had none of the accompanyments of Christmas in Connecticut or even in Killarney (as the old Bing Crosby song extols) but it has its own special accents that mark the presence of Christ in a powerful way. There are no silver bells, no Santa, no snow and only a few artificial trees in a few of the stores where Westerners shop. Flowers are in bloom everywhere – poinsettia shrubs, geranium hedges, rose bushes, bougainvillea vines in profusion. It’s not the decorations or the weather that make Christmas. It is Christ’s presence in our lives. That is what I experienced this Christmas. My colleague Meg Knight (yes, it is Knight and Day in Rwanda) arrived the middle of December. Since her apartment was not ready, she was staying at the EPR Guest House. I couldn’t think of her begin alone, since she only knows a few people so far. So I suggested that I go to Kigali for Christmas and she come to Butare of New Years. She agreed, but neither of us knew what God had in store for us.

            Our colleague Anysie, the finance director with EPR (the Presbyterian Church of Rwanda) asked us to go with her to her home village on Christmas Eve day for a time with the children in the village. We eagerly accepted. We met her at the guest house at 8 a.m. She had exchanged her Rav4 for a sturdy Toyota 4x4 and a driver from EPR, an indication of the rigor of the trip. The back of the 4x4 was loaded with boxes of fruit juice and Rwandan donuts. She had also invited two teenagers, Olivia and Lisa, daughters of her childhood friend who is also now living in Kigali. So, the six of us set off. About an hour down the tarmac road we turned onto a rutted dirt road that wound up into the mountains. We followed the twists and turns through three trading areas and deeper into the mountains for about two hours. Then we turned onto a steep single-lane dirt trail and climbed for another half hour. The distance wasn’t that far but the terrain was so rough that it was slow going, at times with a sheer drop-off to the right and a mountain wall on the left. We crested a hill to see a small brick church that seemed to pulsate with drums and singing. We stopped and got out. We had arrived at Mugano Parish. Inside the church, 223 children sang as they had waited for 1 ½ hours for our late arrival.

Childrn singing to welcome us

            The evangelist for the parish (it is too small to have a pastor) and four Sunday School teachers had led the singing as they waited, Some of the children had walked two hours over the hills to get to the church. They were more than willing to wait. We were greeted by songs of welcome then introductions. By age groups, the children presented songs and dances. One of the Sunday school teachers told the children the Christmas story in Kinyarwanda and gave a short message of application. Then Anysie stood and engaged the children in a discussion, explaining that she was originally from that region and asking them if they knew why she didn‘t come back more often. Finally one of the older children answered that she no longer had family there. She explained that all her family had been killed in the genocide, so she no longer had a home there, but her heart was still there because it had been her home. She was 16 at the time of genocide and was away at school, which is how she survived. What she wanted them to know was that they were part of her because they came from the same area and that the only way to overcome the past was to care for one another in the present. That is why we had come, to bring them a small expression of caring.

            With that, we went to the vehicle and unloaded the juice and bread. As 223 children sat patiently, we, the 5 women from Kigali and the Sunday school teachers, distributed cups of apple juice and donuts. For many of the children, this was their first taste of such a sweet treat. After consuming it, some became impatient for more, showing they were true children. It was fun to watch their new appreciation of this goodness. This was a true Christmas treat. For a little while, they were enabled to see God with them.

Anysie supervising the drinks

            After the children were dismissed with singing and a blessing, Anysie met with 30 women from the parish who had formed a savings and loan group, with Anysie’s assistance in organizing and training them. They reported progress of the purchase of seeds and goats that have helped them raise their standard of living so that some have been able to purchase mattresses, a sign of prosperity. Others are paying school fees for their children. Others are implementing new small income generation projects. They are all benefitting. Then she met with 10 individuals who are ready to begin a goat breeding project in January. Anysie has worked with them in training and preparations. All of these projects, from the trip and treats for the children to the goats, have been financed by Anysie personally, She has saved her money  and has made and sold items to raise money to be able to do these things. This is her way of investing in reconciliation and peace for the future. The adults in these groups include survivors and perpetrators of the genocide, who are learning to work together again because of a genocide survivor who wants to make a difference in her home area.

 After a meal prepared by the evangelist’s family as a thanks to us, we said our farewells. But we were not finished. There was one more stop to make. We went down the steep trail then turned up the next ridge, through a market area and stopped at a Catholic church. On the right of the vehicle was the church building and on the left was a genocide memorial. Anysie got out of the car and looked from one to the other then quietly said, “My parents were baptized here, confirmed here, married here and died here.”Anysie’s parents and her four siblings fled to the church for sanctuary when the genocide began. They and 5,000 others were murdered in the sanctuary of the church. All of her family is buried at the memorial. In the memorial, she showed Olivia and Lisa a picture of their cousins who were killed with Ansyie’s family. This was the first time the girls had been to this area. It was as new and overwhelming for them as it was for Meg and me. The entire trip had been a pilgrimage for Anysie to pay respect to her parents’ memory and their lives, to offer children who lived in the poverty of the remote village and in the shadow of genocide, a taste of another way of life, a sweet life of peace and security, offered by one who lived the horror of genocide but survived to share peace and hope, and to share it with those who had not experienced genocide first-hand. This was a Christmas gift of presence – Emmanuel, God with us.

The 3 ½ hour trip back to Kigali was a quiet one, as we each reflected on the experience of the day. The reflection was broken up for a short time by a roadside tailgate picnic that Anysie had planned. We stood by the car and ate sandwiches and fruit and drank juice as the local farmer and his neighbors watched us in curiosity. Passersby stopped to observe. By the time the meal was over, about 10 people had gathered to watch us. It didn’t stop us from enjoying our picnic then sharing some of the leftovers with the observers. Everyone moved on satisfied. Within an hour darkness settled in and the driver adeptly maneuvered around the ruts and curves in a deep darkness, but above, the sky displayed millions of stars. As we drove, I listened for sounds of shepherd. It seemed there should be some near on such a night. I heard none, but I still had the powerful sense of Christ’s presence – Emmanuel.