The BIg Five

Usually, in Africa, “The Big Five” refers to the five African animals that are most difficult to track and hunt – the elephant, the lion, the leopard, the rhino and the Cape buffalo. But here at PIASS, we have begun to joke about our own “Big Five” – the five English hymns that are sung over and over again – “Trust and Obey,” “No Not One,” “Standing on the Promises,” “Surrender All,” and “Kumbaya.” These are the hymns the students know the best and so they are the ones that they sing at every worship service. Please understand that English is a relatively new language for the students. It has only been the International language of Rwanda for the past four years, so it is not unexpected that they would have a limited repertoire of hymns in this new language.

Last week, we decided to take the first steps to expand that repertoire. I had an old fashioned Hymn Sing at my house. I invited my students, any who wanted to come, and a few faculty members who are particularly interested in music, for an evening of learning new songs and then of light refreshments. Sixteen came. I had borrowed the hymn books from the chapel and the faculty member who teaches music joined us. Together we taught some of the hymns that the students didn’t know. We began with ones that they knew in Kinyarwanda but not in English, so the melodies were familiar, even if the words weren’t. They were surprised that they already knew “Holy, Holy, Holy” and “Blessed Assurance,” or at least the tunes.  We sang them in both languages, as they tried to teach me the Kinyarwandan words and I worked with their pronunciation of English. They quickly caught on to “How Great Thou Art” and especially sang the chorus with joy, like many Americans do. “To God Be the Glory” took a bit more work, but one of the fellows picked up a good drum beat and that helped the learning greatly. Here a standard accompaniment in church is a single drum. For our purposes, my coffee table became a drum.  The enthusiasm for the singing increased as the beat sounded clearly.

We had agreed to sing for an hour and then to have refreshments. We went well beyond the hour and I finally had to call time, because I know that some had other commitments. We made the promise that we would have another Hymn Sing soon. The joy of the evening carried on in a relaxed fellowship time. But the benefit of the evening came on Sunday when for our small English service we sang both “Blessed Assurance” and “How Great Thou Art.” We are no longer restricted to the “Big Five.”

In the Image of God

Over 500 people, students, pastors, family members, and community residents, walked in hushed conversations a mile from a now abandoned field to the mission complex of Remera Rukoma in southern Rwanda. This was part of the property of the third mission station founded by the Eglise Prebyterien au Rwanda, the  Presbyterian Church of Rwanda (EPR) but it was also the site of a massacre of 600 Tutsis in 1994, yet one more site of the Genocide that claimed over 800,000 lives. All those killed on this site were pastors, students, and staff of the school and the hospital. The pastors had thought they could protect the students and staff, but no one was immune. The solemn walk reminded us all of that, as we retraced the steps of those who knew they were marching to their death.

The march ended at the school, where their death march had begun. There we gathered to remember, to honor those who had died and to find meaning in the midst of grief, even 19 years later, for the survivors, family and friends assembled. A great deal of that meaning came from the sermon which was the center piece of the worship service. The preacher called us to Gen. 1 and 2, where we were reminded that all humans have been created in the image of God. She talked about the power of knowing that we are made in God’s image, that we carry within us the identity of being his people. If we can live in that reality, our primary identity is not as Tutsi or Hutu, Rwandan or any other nationality or ethnic group but our primary identity is in God. This is also how we find the strength to forgive and to move forward. She then drew us to John 11:25, the assurance Jesus gives that he is the resurrection and the life. She made the strong point that death for Christians in never hopeless, regardless of the circumstances and we need to take hope in that truth as well.



Survivors' Choir

The remembrance continued with testimonies of remembrance and stories of moving forward by as survivor of the attack and by the widow of one of the victims. The pastors and family members were then invited to the burial site to lay flowers in memory of the victims. That was an emotional time, to see the actual graves and to see photos of those entombed there. Back at the school grounds, the remembrance continues with music and drama by several survivor groups, all who sang or spoke of remembering to ensure that such a thing never happens again. By the end of the ceremony, the tone of the event had shifted for solemn to hopeful. The day ended on a note of optimism that this was not in vain, if we can learn from it to build to the future.

These remembrances around Genocide happen every year, to remember the victims and to celebrate the survivors, but even more, to deepen the commitment that such a thing will never happen again in Rwanda. The remembering brings hope out of incredible pain and meaning out of otherwise senseless death. It is difficult, but it is important for the future.



How Great Thou Art

This morning in the small chapel of the Presbytery office of Butare, with wooden benches, some with backs and some without, the small congregation of 50 people, mostly Rwandan students of PIASS, and four lecturers and their family, belted out the hymn “How Great Thou Art.” The praise to God for his greatness was accompanied with clapping and drums, the beat of which was a bit irregular to an American ear, but heartfelt. The pronunciation was with a strong Kinyarwandan accent but the emotions were so pure and powerful.

As we began the fourth verse, I was mentally transported to another worship service. As we sang, “When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation/ And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!/ Then I shall bow in humble adoration/ And there proclaim, my God how great Thou art!” I saw in my mind’s eye the majestic stone cathedral of First Presbyterian Church, Pittsburgh with its vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows. I heard in my ear the mighty pipe organ and the voices of 2,000 congregants praising God. This was my home congregation as I was growing up, both physically and spiritually. The words of the familiar hymn became part of my life there.

The chorus and the drums brought me back to Rwanda -"Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee: How great Thou art, how great Thou art!" With a Kinyarwandan accent, I was overwhelmed as I had been as a young Christian by the power and majesty of God. It is the truth and power of the words, not the accent or the accompaniment that draws us into God’s presence in praise. I know that. But what a wonderfully powerful experience and reminder this was. It seemed to me today like a foretaste of heaven when we will sing God’s praise in all our accents and with the instruments of heavenly worship.

The Work Visa

I finally have my precious work visa, the means to stay and work in Rwanda. It has taken two months, numerous emails and faxes with the United States, four bus trips from Butare to Kigali, and four visits to the Rwandan Immigration office but on Monday, I got the visa.

The law is that one is to apply for a work visa within 15 days of arriving in the country. The application includes letters of appointment, terms and prove of employment, copies of transcripts, diplomas and certification of credentials, like ordination, a photo of the applicant and a police clearance from the country of nationality. Two days after I arrived, I went to the Immigration office with one of the staff of the Presbyterian Church (EPR) with whom I am working and got all the information of all that was needed. We began to assemble it. I had the transcripts and certificates with me but I didn’t have the police clearance. I got assistance from Pittsburgh Presbytery with that. It was faxed to PIASS when it was completed. EPR and PIASS gathered the letters of work certification. The HR director took all of this to Immigration to submit on the 15^th day of my arrival. He was told that everything had to be notarized to authenticate it. So we began the process of authenticating all the documents. Some were easier than others to do. I had official transcripts, so they needed to be taken to a notary, copied in his presence and the copies notarized. The same was true for all the letters and certificates. The problem became the police clearance. We learned that if I took it to the American Embassy in Kigali that could be done. So off I went to Kigali. But the Embassy has only certain times for such business and one must have an appointment for it. I didn’t. But the staff was helpful in getting me an appointment for early the next morning. The problem for me was that I was in Kigali then. That meant returning to Butare and making another trip to Kigali the next day. The appointment was for 8:30 a.m., so that I could get to Immigration with all the paper work before 11 a.m. I was grateful to the Embassy staff for their assistance. I just had to return to Butare and then leave again at 6 a.m. the next day to make all the connections, which I did.

At the Embassy, my anxiety was raised when the staff member working with me said that she had never seen a report like the one I had and it might not be accepted. If it were not, I could work through the Embassy to get a different kind of clearance report, but that would take more time (and more money, of course). She encouraged me to try with the one I had, but not to be  hopeful. So I paid for the notary services and went off to Immigration with a degree of fear that the process might not be enough. One of the staff from PIASS had accompanied me and he led me through the offices to pay the application fee (and a late fee for missing the 15 day deadline to apply) and then to make the formal application. The officer looked carefully at all the forms, took my passport and the forms and told me that I would be informed of the result of the application within a few days. I left not knowing if it were satisfactory or not. I could only wait to hear. Five days later I got a text message on my phone informing me that the permit had been granted and that I needed to come to Kigali to collect my passport between 1:30 and 3:30 the next day. That meant yet another carefully timed trip to Kigali. I also had to arrange the trip around my teaching schedule,

The Visa

On Monday of this week, I boarded a bus for Kigali at noon. By this time, I was familiar with the travel arrangements. Two hours later, I arrived at the Kigali bus depot and was met by the same helpful taxi driver who had escorted me to the Embassy and to Immigration before. He took me directly to the Immigration office, about a 10 minute drive from the bus depot. At the Visa desk, the officer told me to take a seat at the desk, no waiting. I signed a form and he handed me my passport, with the visa attached. The whole process took less than 5 minutes. Then it was back to the bus depot and back to Butare, 4 ½ hours of travel for a 5 minute transaction. But I had my work visa and it is good for 2 years before it has to be renewed. Praise God.

The Express Bus

I made a conscious decision when I moved to Rwanda that I would not buy a car and that I would travel as the average Rwandan travels. That is walking or taking local or express buses. Walking is not a challenge. It just takes energy and time. The bus, however, is another story. It is an adventure.

Friday I had to go to Kigali for business. I had an 8:30 a.m. appointment in Kigali, which is about a 2 hour bus trip from Butare. The Human Resource Director of PIASS was most helpful as he arranged for a taxi driver to pick me up at 5:30 to take me and the accountant, Jeremy, who was to escort me, to the bus depot in Butare, so we would not have to walk the 2 miles that early in the morning. That was the first blessing of the day. The bus depot is behind a gas station and has room for about 6 larger buses at a time. That early in the morning, ours was the only bus in the depot. We took an express bus, which is a 26 passenger bus, not a minibus of the vintage of the old Volkswagen buses of the 70’s and 80’s in the US. The express has scheduled departure times and limited numbers of passengers, although the bus is still full. In addition the stationary seating, each row has a fold down seat that fills the aisles. By 5:59 a.m., just as the sun was rising, every seat was full. We had gotten there early enough that we had stationary seats, which are a bit more comfortable. Most of the passengers seemed to be going to Kigali for business, just as we were. They were nicely dressed, the ladies carrying handbags and the men with briefcases. Everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. The ride was quiet and relatively quick. We were in Kigali by 7:50 because the road was clear of the heavy trucks that tend to slow down traffic and the driver took the description “express bus” seriously and drove as fast as was allowed, or a bit beyond.

The bus depot in Kigali is much larger and busier than in Butare. We pulled in among 60 to 70 other coaches, all jockeying for position. In amongst them were dozens of minibuses preparing to depart for routs around Kigali and taxis looking for riders. Fortunately, Jeremy had called a taxi driver ahead of time and he was waiting for us, ready to whisk us away to the business of the day, a second blessing of the day. For a small fee, we had our own taxi for all the traveling we had to do around Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, a crowded, busy city.

We finished our business in good time and returned to the depot. Jeremy was going on to attend to other business, but he made certain that I was on the right bus first. If possible, the depot was even busier than 3 hours before. In addition to all the buses, minibuses and taxis, vendors were working among the potential passengers, trying to sell everything from fruit and vegetables to magazines and shoes. Again I was on an express bus, but this time the travel was different. The passengers on an 11 a.m. bus to Butare, on a Friday differ from those going to Kigali early in the morning. Most were traveling with luggage, boxes, rolled foam mattresses, bulging duffel bags and overflowing shopping bags. Many were women with small children and young people with ear buds, listening to their own music. The bus was crowded with packages under the seats in the aisles and stacked at the door and on passengers’ laps. Children cried and called to one another. Conversations flowed at various volumes, especially cell phone conversations that had to be held above the noise of the bus. Traffic was heavy so the going was slower as the driver maneuvered around overloaded trucks carrying all manner of goods up the hills of Rwanda, and through pedestrians and bicyclists, swerving and swaying as the passengers held on to stay in our seats and balance the luggage around us. Although it was an express bus, we made two unscheduled stops for the driver to drop off packages he had collected in Kigali for transportation to destinations along the way – a sort of roadside UPS as we went.

We arrived at the Butare depot at 1:15 and I was delighted to walk the 2 miles to PIASS, just to stretch my cramped leg muscles, to enjoy the quiet of the residential roads and to reflect on all the people and activity I had encountered in just a few hours.

Joseph Mpiranya

Please let me introduce you to one of my students, Joseph Mpiranya. He is typical of the students that I teach - quiet, sincere, committed.

In August of 2012 his mother died. Just a month later his father died, leaving Joseph Mpiranya the head of the family, responsible for his three sisters’ education and well being. They are in secondary school (high school). Joseph was just beginning his second year at PIASS.

He prays and trusts God to enable him to care for his sisters and still finish school and be ordained as a pastor. The desire of his heart is to tell others about Jesus and to help them to know God more fully. That was Joseph’s parents wish for him. They had been so proud when he was accepted to train for the ministry. They were devout Christians and both elders in their church. They had set an example of Christian life for Joseph and encouraged him in his Christian faith. They were simple farmers and struggled to provide for the daily needs of the family but they had saved to help him with his education. Early in his life Joseph had committed his life to Christ. He grew in Christ and is his wanting to be like his parents in their faith. When he was accepted at PIASS, everyone was thrilled. But now, with having to care for his sisters and for his own education, his future is uncertain. PIASS is helping him, but there are limited resources. He continues to study hard, to sing in the choir, to participate in the local congregation as a deacon and to care for his sisters. He is confident that the God who called him will be the God who provides for him.

Water Problems

Every house has problems with water from time to time. That is part of life. Mine have just come in rapid succession. I have only been in the house a month and I have called the plumber 4 times. There are only 4 water sources in the house and each one of them has developed its own problem. Fortunately the plumber is reliable and compassionate. He comes quickly.

When I first moved in, I noticed that each morning, water had pooled on the bathroom floor over night. My housekeeper, Josephina, who was here a few days before I moved in preparing the house, just dutifully mopped it up, as if this were a normal part of life. But each morning the pool seemed larger to me. By my fourth morning in the house, the pool extended to half the bathroom floor. I reported this to my friend Celestin, who is also the presbytery clerk in charge of the house and he sent the plumber. The plumber found a small hole in a pipe and dutifully repaired it. Problem solved in just 15 minutes. I rested easily when the next morning the floor was dry.

But two days later, on a Saturday, as I adjusted the water faucet in the kitchen, it came off in my hand. Water shot straight up in the air, bouncing off the ceiling, bathing me and the rest of the kitchen. I quickly turned the water off and moped up the mess. For the rest of the weekend I drew water from the laundry tubs, in a wash area just off the kitchen. That is where I washed dishes as well. On Monday, Celestin again called the plumber for me. He came and then left to buy a new faucet. The replacing of the faucet took about an hour, all tolled. Again, order was easily restored. Praise God.

But that evening, my watchman, John, who uses the laundry tubs for cleaning up after doing a bit of yard work for me, called me to see problem with the laundry tubs. The pipe that connects to the drain had come off and water was draining on the floor instead of down the drain. John’s solution was to place a bucket under the laundry tubs, let it fill up and then dump it outside. Mine was to call the plumber the next morning. He came immediately. This problem, however, took a bit more time. The plumber did not have the parts that he needed and he needed access to the drainage system. He explained that the laundry tubs could not be used for a few days until he got the parts and the access that he needed. John never said anything, but from the pools of water outside the laundry room door, I’m sure he continued with his solution until the plumber returned the end of last week and did the full repair. It took two days to do the work, but all was well.

This morning, when I returned from morning devotions to work in my study, I heard the toilet running. Josephina had just cleaned the toilet. I went in to jiggle the handle, but it did no good. I lifted the lid on the tank and gently jiggled the floater. It went shooting in the air, propelled by a fountain of water that baptized me and the small room that houses the toilet. I reached down and shut off the water as quickly as I could, but not before the impromptu fountain had left half an inch of water on the floor. While Josephina mopped it up, I dried off and then called the plumber. Six hours later, we now have a functional toilet, which has all new internal parts. Hopefully this is the end of the water saga, but just in case it is not, I have the plumber’s phone number on my speed dial.