The Bamboo

The burned bamboo stand in August

 In August, you heard me lament the cutting and burning of a beautiful, mature stand of bamboo in my front yard. The motivation for the cutting and burning was to rid the area of fleas that were suspected of living in the bamboo. The whole process of “deforestation” of the bamboo took about 3 weeks and left a gaping exposure to the passing world. When I voiced concern to the administrations, they ordered the cut bamboo be trimmed to size to make fencing and I had a semblance of privacy again, for which I was grateful.

But one thing that I know about bamboo is that it is fast growing. That was my only comfort during the cutting process. The rains came in November and the bamboo began to grow again. I watched with fascination as the shoots sprung up almost overnight and began to mature into saplings and then a young stand of bamboo. At first, the charred sticks stood among the new growth. The new shoots grew among the destroyed remains and gradually overtook the old stalks.  By Christmas, I had shade again from the ever-growing bamboo. No, it is not yet mature, but each day it is expanding and filling in. It has swallowed the fence in its growth, so that the fence sticks of bamboo can no longer be seen, lost among the green of the growing forest in my front yard.

New growth just 4 months later

As I daily watch this replenishing, I am reminded of what God does in his creation and in our lives. Among the charred remains of the destruction that we bring, he brings life and new growth. He renews and strengthens. He refreshes and redirects. He does that with plants and trees. The Bamboos is testimony to that. I remember seeing the same new growth happen in Yosemite National Park in California after a forest fire destroyed acres. He does it in our personal lives when situations deteriorate and dreams and hopes die. That is certain the cases for me, having to leave Malawi but finding new hope and dreams here in Rwanda. He does it with nations. I look at the reconciliation and rebuilding that has happened and is happening here in Rwanda after the genocide. There is new life everywhere.

As I listened to a PCUSA webinar about the fighting and destruction happening in South Sudan, I looked out my study window on my growing bamboo grove. I prayed for the folks facing the disaster there. I prayed for the God of life to intervene and bring new life to such a desperate situation. I am confident that God can work his miracles of life there as he has in Rwanda. That is my prayer and my trust. The bamboo is a witness to that truth.

Gihinda Muyaga

Church leaders, my watchman in the center

Sunday I had the great blessing of preaching at a village church outside of Butare. The congregation is an evangelistic outreach of the large Presbyterian Kinyarwanda congregation near PIASS. This worship space is up the mountain from the city (but then in “the land of a thousand hills,” everything is up the mountain or down the mountain). The congregation is served by a student from PIASS and he is the one who invited me to preach. He and my watchman escorted me as we traveled on the back of motorcycle taxis off the tarmac road, onto a dirt road and then to a dirt trail up the mountain about 7 miles. I have taken motorcycle taxis around Butare, but never up into the mountains. This in itself was an experience.

The church building

Once there, we could see for miles around us. The student pastor and the senior elder escorted me around the grounds the church owns and explained the history. In 2010 the senior elder and a few of the elders from the main church, including my watchman, gathered with a few Christians from the area for worship and then house to house visitation. Soon they had 25 believers and began worship in a small house they rented. When the numbers grew, the owner of the house evicted them, saying they were too large a group for the small house. They continued the evangelistic outreach as they sought another house for worship. As their numbers swelled to 50, eviction came again. They determined that they needed a place of their own for worship. They found land and took a loan from the Presbytery to purchase it. As they paid off the loan, they worshiped in the open air, but on their own land. No one could evict them.  All the time, their numbers were growing. With the first loan paid for, they took another to build a church for worship. The walls, roof and windows are now complete. They have a few wooden benches and a table for a worship center. When there is an overflow, as there frequently is, they sit on mats on the floor. They now have over 100 members and 3 choirs (a sign of growth and commitment). The elder, my student and my watchman were so excited to share worship with me. I was thrilled to be there.

Praise of the women's choir

There is no vestry, so we organized the service and I robed behind the church building, in the open air. They hope to build a free-standing church office in the future, but that is not the priority now. Now their goal is to pay off the loan and then cement the floor, build more benches and bring electricity to the area. We entered the building to great singing and dancing by the choirs. The service was filled with praise and joyful singing. As one of the choirs led singing, I looked closely at the choir leader. She smiled at me. It was my housekeeper, Josephine. I learned later that she comes down the mountain every weekday to care for me and my house. I was humbled to see the commitment and leadership of both my house staff in this small church. After the Spirit-filled 2 ½ hour worship service, we had a meal together with the elders and I heard more of their plans for the future. They have such faith and optimism about what God will do in them and through them in this area. It is not just the building, but the outreach and fellowship. The elders and deacons have begun a savings and loan group to help each other develop their lives. Part of this is tithing to the church as well. They are forming a caring community on the side of the mountain. Many of these things are happening in many places around the Presbyterian Church in Rwanda. What impressed me was the spirit of joy. It is reflected in the name of the church. Before, the site was know as the place of wind, because of its location on the top of the hill. Now it is called Gihinda Muyaga, place of praise. They praise God with their whole beings.

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.

Baptism and Confirmation

Sunday was a great day of celebration. My colleague Pastor Celestin and his wife Immaculee have three daughters and two young female dependents (not their biological children, but children for whom they have taken responsibility, for various reasons). On Sunday all five girls were baptized or confirmed in the church.

the 4 left to right for the celebration

The celebration began at the Butare Kinyarwanda parish, about a mile and a half from the PIASS campus. I walked there with some of my students and my colleague Pastor Juvenal and the new PC(USA) volunteer who had just arrived in Kigali on Thursday, after we finished the 8:30 a.m. English service at PIASS. We arrived a bit late, but that was not an issue. This is Africa. We were in time for the choirs, who sang and danced with great delight. There were five of them, so there was lots of music. The baptisms and confirmation came after the sermon, just as in many congregations in the States. The difference was that the events were divided and happened somewhat simultaneously. Three of those to be baptized were 12 or older, so they needed to answer the questions of faith for themselves. Here in the Kinyarwanda service, the Apostle’s Creed is not recited, but is sung, so the girls sang of their faith. It was delightful. The youngest to be baptized   is just 18 months old, so her parents and godmother stood and answered as parents would in the States. One of the girls had been baptized as an infant, so she was to be confirmed.

This is where the service split and the actual baptism and confirmation happened simultaneously. The Presbyterian Church here practices the phrase we use in the States – reformed and always reforming. To address the concerns of the youth who have been influenced by the Pentecostal movement in Africa, the Presbyterians of Rwanda now allows for baptism by immersion for those who wish it. (The church leaders rely on the practice of Jesus for their authority to change things in this way.) The older girls requested immersion baptism. They were the first to use the new “pool” outside the newly constructed church building. Water had to be brought in for the event. The baby was also immersed, but held by her mother. While about half of the congregation went outside to witness the baptisms, the other half remained in the sanctuary for the affirmation of faith and confirmation of the one who had been baptized as an infant. One pastor officiated at the baptism while another officiated for the confirmation. Because this was for a pastor’s children, there were many pastors attending. About15 of us watched from the congregation. The Presbyterian Church here is relatively small with fewer than 200 pastors, so it still has a “family” feel when there are celebrations for the family of the clergy. That was the case here. When the congregation split, so did the family, as Imaculee went with the girls to be baptized and Celestin stayed with the one to be confirmed. He stood with her as she answered her constitutional questions and sang of her faith. After the baptism and confirmation, the congregation was joined again and the cottage group to which the family belongs (the congregation is divided into small “cottage” groups for weekly prayers) sang for the entire congregation, to show their support of the girls. Again, it was a family event, the family of the church.

The tent for the reception

That “family feel” continued as we moved to the family’s home after the service for a reception. The entire congregation was invited. About half the congregation accepted. The family had set up a tent in the side yard, moving the living room furniture out to the tent to provide comfortable setting for some special guests and plastic chairs for others. This meant that the living room could be fitted with the buffet table to serve the over 200 who had come to the reception. After the welcoming speeches, we were entertained by the three choirs that had come with us, as we filled our plates and ate. After the generous meal came speeches and presentation of gifts to the honorees and then thank-you and farewell speeches. The celebration ended about 5 p.m., a full day of sharing joy with friends and the family of faith. There makes for a great celebration.

Sunday of Celebration

This past Sunday was a day of celebration for the English – speaking congregation in Butare. We held a triple celebration as we consecrated the new communion table, commissioned new leadership and welcomed guests from Kigali. To do all of this, the service took 3 hours. I felt as if I were back in Malawi. It was wonderful.

Worship did not begin on time, but that is to be expected. First there was the issue of not electricity and that was essential for the keyboard and the PA system that the visitors were bringing, so the solution was to hook up a generator, That took time. Then, of course we had to wait for our guests to arrive. It is a 2 hour trip from Kigali to Butare, if all goes well. That assumes that everyone was present and the bus could leave on time, but that is never the case. The group did well, in that they were only about 45 minutes later than estimated. But the time of waiting was not wasted. Those of us gathered sang and praised God. It was a joyful time.

New Communion Table

Once the service began, the first order of business was to consecrate the new communion table and pulpit. That was my responsibility. (This is the project for which I bought a goat, to help make the purchase possible.) I was honored to be the pastor to set this furniture apart for God’s glory. It is beautifully made and will serve the community for many years.

Guest Choir singing

Then the service could begin in earnest. One of the elements that made the service longer was that the guests from Kigali were French speaking, many from other countries. The pastor of this congregation had served in Butare when our congregation was French speaking, so this was a homecoming of sorts for here. What this meant was that both languages were used in the service, with translation of all parts of the service and the scriptures read in both languages. This adds time to a service. In addition, there were more choirs for the service than usual. In addition to our choir, the guests brought a choir and they had to be given time to present a number of songs and some of the young girls of our congregation had prepared songs for the visitors. One of the songs the guests sang in French was "How Great Thou Art." That spoke all gathered for worship, regardless of the language. Guests provide the opportunity for praising God, so there were a number of choruses as well. During the greetings everyone needed to be introduced so that we all knew one another and were able to worship together, so this took time as well, but was so necessary for good fellowship.

After the preaching, done in French and translated for non-French speakers, came the third element of the service, the commissioning of new leadership of the Presbyterian Students’ Organization. They needed to be introduced and prayed for. They will be the ones who will minister to all Presbyterian students in the area, on behalf of our congregation. This is a significant outreach ministry and needs God’s blessing. It was a delight to share this with our guests, as well.

In all of this, the spirit was one of joy. No one looked at a watch to check the time. No one rushed through any part of the service. Each element was enjoyed as true worship to God. No celebration is complete without food, so after the service, a meal was served to everyone present. We all filed out of the sanctuary, greeted one another outside while the tables were set and the room prepared for eating.  The meal gave a wonderful opportunity for more fellowship and time for the congregation and the visitors to chat. No one was in a hurry to leave after the final speeches, even though it was after 1 p.m. and some of us had been gathered since 8:30 a.m. and our visitors had left home at dawn to arrive in Butare in time It was a day of celebration. 

Power

Power

No, I have not forgotten my “Blog Friends.” I have had intermittent power for the last week or so. Last week, the electricity went off on Thursday for a while and then again on Friday. It was off for about 2 hours each time. This is nothing unusual so I didn’t think much about it. Then on Friday evening it went off again about 10:30 p.m. It was not back on early Saturday morning.  Last Saturday was Umuganda (community service day) so everything was closed in the morning. I hoped that it would come back in the afternoon. I learned it was only our immediate area that was affected, not the whole of Butare, but that did not help our situation. My hope was futile. The power remained off all day. Sunday is not a working day, so there was no hope for the weekend. PIASS has a generator and it was in use on Sunday morning for weekend classes so after church, I went, found an empty room and a power outlet and was able to charge my laptop and my Nook. But my internet connection was not working. I use a modem that is connected to the local cell phone company. It seems that with the power outage, some of their towers were not functioning and therefore there was no power. I felt cutoff from the outside world. It became worse when I later realized that my cell phone should have been charged, too. That battery lasted until about 8 p.m. that evening and then I was totally cut off.

When I returned home from PIASS, I found water on the kitchen floor. The fridge had begun to defrost and was leaking on the floor. I cleaned it up, but there was nothing else I could do. I had no access to ice. And I had a commitment in the afternoon. I was to go to an engagement party, so I left the electricity problem behind and tried to enjoy myself. But the longer I sat at the party, the more I thought of the meat in the freezer. I worked out a plan. When I got home, I lit candles, (it was getting dark), pulled the meat from the freezer and cooked it all. Praise God for the propane stove that ignites with a match. I was able to save the meat. I shared it with my house staff on Monday, since there was no way I could eat it all myself. They were grateful for the power outage.

About 3:30 on Monday afternoon the power was restored. I sang the doxology and immediately began recharging all my electronic equipment. But the power went off again about 8 p.m. This time it was only off for about an hour. I breathed a sigh of relief. Tuesday the power went off for several hours in the afternoon, but came back on. It did the same thing in the evening. That was the pattern for Wednesday as well. On Thursday, we got word that the problem has been solved. I breathed a sigh of relief. On Friday, as an act of faith, I went to the market and bought some meat. I didn’t get a lot, but some to begin to replace what I had lost. On Friday evening, the power went out again.

Fridge as a large ice chest

By early Saturday morning, when the power had not returned, I began to worry about the meat in the freezer. I got up to find my gardener and send him to the market for ice. That is when the communication adventure began. He didn’t understand the word ice. This is reasonable, since most people here do not have freezers and there is no snow, so no frozen precipitation. I found the word in my Kinyarwandan dictionary and showed it to him. He nodded, took the money I offered him and left. He was back in 10 minutes with two bottles of cold water. I looked again at the translated word. It literally means very cold water. That is what he got for me. I got on the internet with the little power that remained in the laptop battery. and pulled up pictures of ice. He was baffled. I tried explaining, I let him read the Wikipedia explanation. He still did not understand. Then he called a friend of his who had traveled some and who knows English better than he does. The friend explained in Kinyarwanda what I could not in English. He took the money again and went off to the market. I cautiously waited. He returned about 20 minutes later to tell me that he needed more money to buy a bucket for the ice. That gave me a bit of hope. About 20 minutes after that he returned with a shiny new blue bucket filled with ice. We quickly went to work transferring the ice from the bucket to plastic zip-lock bag to pack in the freezer and the fridge. So my fridge is now serving as a giant ice chest, keeping the meat cold if not frozen.

This is Saturday late morning, and there is still no power. I am using the power of the generator at PIASS to recharge all my electronics. If the power remains off through the night, we will replenish the ice supply tomorrow. At least we have some communication and a game plan this week. Only God knows when we will have power again.