Disability

I won't be posting here anymore for privacy's sake, but I will be writing regular newsletters which will be virtually the same as the blog. If you want to become a part of this list please email carolinejoan@gmail.com. Thanks!

Spring Fever

However busy my life was previously, it just got thrown into high gear. I've never been so exhausted. It's been an incredible and incredibly long weekend. On Thursday, Jen and Dano finally took home their son, Nathanael Niyonzima Jukanovich. He is beyond adorable and I loved hearing Jen say "You're an aunt again!" He smiles and gurgles and waves his arms and legs all the time. His eyes are huge, brown, and covered with the most amazing perfectly curled eyelashes. I could look at him forever - and I do.


On Thursday, I had some guys help me paint the studio, and did a little redecorating. I think it looks fabulous, and everyone else seems to think so too. I put sheets of banana leaf and hung them on the walls with the girls' class photos stuck to them. It's pretty exciting.


On Friday, Jo (roommate) and Amity (woman who teaches pilates for BR) had the opening reception of a their co-op store they've put months of work into. Amity took over the lease of my original studio and has since turned it into a beautiful store that sells various artisan's wares. Here's the three of us roommates on Friday night. (Megan, Jo, et moi.)


On Saturday, we had a small event to raise funds for installing hard wood floors. Unfortunately, it didn't go so well financially, but those of us who were there had a great time talking, dancing, and drinking wine.

Shockingly, I forced myself out of bed on Sunday morning at 5:40 to do a 7 mile run. It was incredibly hard (probably cause I had had my last glass of wine maybe 4 hours earlier) and definitely not my best run, but I actually made it 7.5 miles (12 minute miles though) and then fell into bed and slept for three hours...oops.

Wara's (pictured) parents had asked me to come to lunch at their house - I was completely zonked and exhausted and could not, for my life, imagine entertaining, but had agreed to weeks ago. I am glad I did - they were so kind and generous. Wara is by far one of my best and most naturally talented students. She was adopted here by Khadija, who is from Sierra Leone, and Ellwyn, who is from Trinidad and works with the UN here.

We had and excellent, huge lunch, and good conversation, and her parents are begging me to turn her into a prima ballerina. I've told them I'll see what I can do. The whole thing was 4.5 hours long - I thought I was going to fall over - especially because they made sure my wine glass was never empty.

The best part was when Ellwyn went into the closet and came out with a portable barre he had built her. They then put on a ballet dvd they found and Wara showed me how she practices every day. We watched her go through her warm up routine for about 15 minutes. It was so adorable. It hit me that I was sitting in Rwanda, watching a little girl practice ballet on a contraption her father fashioned for her. Mission: Accomplished.

"You know they call it the New York of East Africa"

My body is still in shock from the last 48 hours, I think. I can't say I would ever suggest taking 18 hours of bus rides to spend a day in Kampala during the rainy season. To say the trip was brutal would be generous. I wrote a long email to my family describing most of the trip, and it was, of course, lost on the hostel computer. Incredibly aggravating - I'll try to recount here but my head is about to explode.

Everyone says Kigali is the best city in Africa - beautiful and clean clean clean. I can tell it's well maintained, but you don't actually realize how clean it is until you've actually traveled elsewhere in Africa. Now that I can add Uganda to the list, I really understand what everyone means. I went to the store this afternoon (in Kigali) and the streets seemed to be paved of gold after being in Kampala yesterday.

It never stopped raining on Friday when I was there, so that definitely adds to the dirtiness. There are very, very few sidewalks, mostly just little rivers of mud, and huge potholes you can either willingly step in or unintentionally fall into; either way you're going in. After the first hour of walking around, I completely gave up, and by the time I went back to the hostel in the afternoon, my feet and ankles were caked in mud. My black jeans are now black and bright dirt red spotted. My hair was matted and my overall feeling was clammy and gross.

Unfortunately, I didn't take a single photo the entire trip - it was never conducive. There are so many amazing shots I wanted to take, but it was pouring rain, there were 30 million people around, my camera was inaccessible ... etc. I googled some photos and none really seemed to be accuratively descriptive - I guess you have to be there and in the midst of the people, the buildings, the mud, the cars, the buses, the motos, the livestock, the stalls, the incessant stores, the noise, the chaos.

The people were quite a bit kinder than in Rwanda, though, and incredibly honest. They never tried to cheat us in price on the motos (they call them boda bodas in Uganda) whereas in Rwanda the guys quote you a price that is usually inflated about 300%. A guy ran after us and handed us 2000 shillings ($1) he said he saw us drop. We were in shock (especially since we don't think the money was ours anyway). I only heard muzungu twice and it was no way near as condescending as it sounds here.

The boda bodas, however, were pure insanity. Apparently there are 5 deaths a day related to motos in Kampala. All of the rides I took were quite scary, but there was one where I was sure that we were going to get in an accident - I eventually just started laughing hysterically out of sheer fear and adrenaline. It was pouring rain during rush hour, and the traffic was so tight. Nonetheless, the driver felt the need to drive at breakneck speed, going in and out of cars that were so close together I'd have to turn sideways to get through. We slipped and slid, he would dash in front of oncoming traffic and I'd feel the graze of the bus that just barely didn't kill me. When we finally got to where we were going, I practically fell off the moto and had to regain my mental state for a second; my legs were shaking.

There were some fun parts - mainly to do with shopping. They even had a mall and a cineplex. We saw Valentine's Day (even a first run movie!) and it was so nice to sit in a theatre and relax, especially after the day it had been. When it was over I said to Megan, "You know, when we walk out of this theatre, we're still going to be in Africa." Definitely didn't feel like it.

It was shocking to see how well stocked the stores were - they had so many products, things you would never dream of finding in Kigali. We got giant bottles of olive oil and balsamic for about $4 each - in Kigali they are about $20. We bought box cake and frosting, vodka ($7 compared to $40 here), microwave popcorn, granola, maple syrup, and probably some other things.

I was able to buy some clothes very cheaply too - some shirts, sweater, shorts, and dresses, all for about $40. The highlight of my trip was at one of the stores where I was bartering for a tshirt and a sweater - I wanted them for 10k and 20k (Ugandan shillings - $5 and $10) and he would not go down from 40k total. We're doing the usual routine - arguing, yelling, waving hands up and down, pacing, threatening to go to another store - and he will just not take my offer. Finally, a genius idea strikes and I say, "Ok! I'll give you 15 for this one and 15 for this one." "Ok sister!!" he accepts joyfully. I stood there in shock for a second, my mouth agape, expecting him to realize what he just agreed to. Amazingly enough, he proceeded to put the clothes in a bag, hand me his card, and ask me to come back to the shop. I definitely will next time I am in Kampala - afterall, I didn't get the 10 and 20 price that I wanted, but I did get 15 and 15.

Running in the land of a thousand hills a.k.a. STUPID

So I've decided to run a half marathon. Dano coerced me into doing it with him, and sent me this link for a 'training program.'

It seems simple enough ... except for the fact that in 7 weeks I am supposed to be running 10 miles! The run is on 23 May and starts at Amahoro stadium, making two loops around the city. As the website says "The running course is a bit hilly. You will not break your personal record!" Wow, reassuring, thank you!

On Wednesday I ran two miles. On Friday, two more miles, this time in 24 minutes. On Saturday, three 12 minute miles. I actually don't feel too bad. I am committed to doing this - I've always wanted to do a marathon so a half marathon seems like the logical first step. I really hope I don't burn out in the first three weeks. I'm going for the gold. In it to win it.

P.S. On Thursday Megan and I are getting on a 7am 'bus' to Kampala to do some shopping. It's a 9 hour drive through the mountains. We've booked the nicest room at the Backpackers Hotel ($25) and both have meetings Friday morning - mine with the Kampala Ballet and hers with Compassion. Mostly I think we just want to see something new and also need to do visa runs. Expect an exciting post this weekend.

Pictures are worth so much more

Yes, I am completely behind in posting. That being said, I'll have you know that that 15 January - 15 February was the busiest I have ever been in my entire life. I am surprised I am still alive, to be honest.

We did move into the new studio/house, which, while breaking my bank, has been the exactly right decision, and the ballet school has been able to flourish in this new space. I quickly went from 60 students to 80 shortly after opening for classes here. The studio is so much larger and cooler. Outside there is a swing set, a gazebo, and a large yard, so it has been great for parents, sibling, cousins, nannies, and everyone else who waits while the girls are in class.

My friend Megan moved in with me, and it's been so great having a friend around. We spend quite a lot of time together, doing ridiculous things like buying a kiddie pool and sitting in it when it gets high in the 90s (which it has been doing a lot lately).

We've started choreographing for the Spring Recital - it's going quite well, though I'm having a hard time remembering which group is doing which piece - working on six different ones concurrently! The oldest group (11-16 years old) is doing so well, they love coming to class and you can see them all working very hard to progress.

We had a party on Friday night - everyone brought something for dinner, then we watched Center Stage (classic ballet teen movie) with one of the family's projectors. It was quite a bit of fun.

Last Sunday Megan and I decided to take a day trip and drive two and a half hours east to Akagera, a national park of Rwanda. We borrowed Jen and Dano's car, the beautiful '93 Toyota Carina that has had a good amount of trouble, but keeps on keeping on. I threw it into fifth gear and enjoyed cruising through the beautiful, beautiful country that is Rwanda.

It was an incredibly hot day, and the drive was quite long, but we arrived expectantly. Fred was waiting for us.


We said our hellos and then he walked away, in search of greener pastures.

We then ran into close friends Joe, Tabitha, and Murray. They joined up with about 5 other friends shortly thereafter, and let me tell you, a herd of zebras is quite a beautiful thing - especially when you're in dry, dry, flat, grasslands; a stark contrast to the lush hills of Kigali. It was hard to believe we were still in Rwanda.

Later, we watched Jimbo, Clarissa, and Talia hang out with their fellow hippo friends, staying in a group so as not to taunt the ever present crocodiles (who refused to be photographed).

Of course, it wouldn't be a real day off in Rwanda if something didn't go wrong, so the Toyota took this opportunity to break down in the middle of the elephant section of the park (even though we didn't see any). It began to overheat so we pulled over and sat for 40 minutes, refreshed the water, and hung out with the baboons.

We decided to try again, and got about 1000 meters before we could see the water boiling up again. Another 40 minute break, another 1000 meters ... three hours later we hadn't completed a mile and it was turning into dusk. The way back to the park station was all up hill, not to mention the fact that we were still 3 hours from home and that the J's needed their car back...

I was so dirty (had been crawling under the car to figure stuff out) and hot and overall not in a good mood. I really don't do well when I feel unclean. We stood around, stared at the car, did some war dances, screamed, laughed, and mocked ourselves for thinking the day was going to go smoothly. A mutatu (VW bus stuffed with at least 16 people and invariably several chickens) pulled over at one point, and everyone piled out - men, women, children, and everything else in between. They all crowded around me at the hood of the car and start talking and laughing and prodding. I was so paranoid they were going to take off the radiator cover and steam burn the 30 faces that were over the hood. I eventually just yelled, "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!" I think they got the hint cause shortly thereafter they all shook their heads and got back into the bus. Eventually, some dudes showed up and wove a threadbare string in between the car and their truck. It definitely did not seem like it would work.

Fortunately, it did, and ten minutes later we were parked at the station. Still, we had no way to get home. A mechanic was going to come in the morning to fix the car. Fortunately, there were a couple of cars leaving the park and we quickly accosted them, begging for a ride back to Kigali. A group of Americans graciously said yes, and we piled into a massive SUV. We got dropped off about 20 minutes from our house in Kigali, and couldn't find motos, so just started walking...I think we were both pretty delirious at that point, it was about 8pm. After walking for a while we got on mutatu and I hung out the window yelling at people ... like I said - delirious. After what seemed like years, we got home, and in true form, the power was off.

So quickly it's 2010! Can anyone believe that is was already a decade ago that we were all excited about the millennium? I can't believe I've been alive for a decade. And then I realize I've been alive for over two. Crazy times.

We've had a three week break for the holidays, and I am really missing teaching the girls! I can't wait until class starts next week, I know what to expect, I've perfected my schedule, have a lot more/new students, and everyone is so excited for the performance I've promised them at the end of the school year. The last week the girls wouldn't stop talking about which steps they wanted to do and which parts they wanted (please note, I haven't even decided what kind of ballet it's going to be yet). (Ideas can be sent to carolinejoan@gmail.com.)

I survived (barely) my first Christmas without my family. Enough said. I hope your holidays were full of joy. (I am liking that word more as I get older - je ne sais pas.)

A few days ago I was walking down a nearby street, looking for a moto to go into town. I passed a driveway and heard my name called - when I turned around my friend Emma (see photo a few posts down - he's the one with dreads) was waving. I walked over and asked why he was loitering near my house. He was hired to manage the renovation of this recently vacated house. He invited me in and I looked around the house and said hi to all the workers.

"I love painting," I said without thinking, and the next thing I know I am agreeing to help paint the house. I realized I didn't have a good reason to say no, so I accepted the paint brush and plastic container of paint and set out to do the outside trim. Two hours later, surrounded by 20 Rwandan guys (actual workers), with the ridiculously hot sun concentrating solely on me (or so it seemed), I thought "what the heck am I doing here?" Just then, one of the old men working came up to me and said, "You will be a good wife. You are a hard worker." Needless to say, I finished all the trim.

On Friday, Jennifer had our housekeeper Consolee bring over 4 of her 5 children - Barrique, Parfait, Nice, and Magnafique to make Christmas cookies with us. Jen did a little demonstration in the beginning, and the kids quickly mastered the art of cookie cutter-ing and decorating. It was fun for everyone. There are no pictures of finished cookies because I am not sure if any of them made it past the icing stage. Every two seconds Anna would break a cookie and say "Mom, can I eat it?" Zechariah (our guard) also came in and did some decorating.

Cleanliness is a big issue with me, particularly with the feel of clothes. Consolee normally does all the laundry, but because we don't have a machine and everything is hand washed, and because there is a lot, it often takes a week to get it back. Also, because there is so much and it rains all the time, it takes several days to dry and will often smell musty.

I complain if I have to hand wash a delicate sweater. But I woke up and thought "be the change you wish to see in the world," so I decided to do my laundry myself. I have never hand washed my entire wardrobe before - oh boy.


Since hot water does not run naturally, I had to boil water in our electrical teapot, so basically half a gallon at a time, to fill the first bucket, which I put soap in. The second bucket I filled with cold water for rinsing. It took me about six or seven "loads" to do all my clothes, and four and a half hours (of labor). Do you have any idea how heavy a bath towel is when it's wet? Did you know those things are made to absorb water? I could barely left it out of the bucket, and wringing the water out was a ten minute process. Whenever you think you've gotten all the water out of a towel, try again - you haven't.

Times flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. (Groucho Marx.) It definitely feels like I just posted, but the site seems to be telling me that my last post was 20 days ago. Interesting. In these 20 days, my ballet school has exploded. I now have 53 students, and on Monday 17 girls showed up to one class (my max is 8 - spacing wise and sanity wise). It was mayhem. Still, everyone enjoyed it and the parents were thrilled. Classes are all going tremendously well and I am loving every minute of it - it has been really great to discover that I not only love teaching ballet, but that I am actually pretty good at it. I always know what to say next...that's an amazing feeling!


I have felt that I am not working with the street kids enough, but it's been hard to discern exactly how I would go about meeting them, talking to them, getting them to the studio, and teaching them. Please keep in mind that I do not speak a word of Kinyarwanda besides good morning, thank you, good afternoon, how are you, the response to how are you which I don't even know what it means, the word dance, and the numbers 1, 5, 6, and 8. Like, I am not lying to you, that is literally all I know (yes, I do not know how to say 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, or 10). The kids also don't speak a word of English.

So! Yesterday I decided to ask the neighborhood street kids (the ones who frequently come and play at our house and feed the bunnies) if they would like to come to the studio with me. Rather, Jennifer did the talking and said "you go to school of Carolina?" and I then promptly chime in with my great addition to the conversation and say assertively "kubyina!" (dance). We didn't have to ask, the boys will do anything we ask them. They all got very excited and said they wanted to wash up first. This is very respectful of them. They came back a bit later and Jen drove Danyire, Jiye, Christiane, Qwizera, Jacques and I to the studio.


I wanted to keep it a small group, and these are all the boys I have established relationships with already. Well, it was incredibly difficult to communicate and I think they were a bit mystified by the whole thing (especially since I started them off by watching Alvin Ailey's Sinner Man) but this is what we came up with after an hour.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQA5jD_4na0

(Sorry that it's an outside link, it's 18MB which takes over an hour to upload so I went with youtube so I could share it everywhere.) Hopefully next week will be more solid.

Otherwise, it's Christmastime, and here is our glorious tree that reminds me of very happy days in Portugal.



The new "bar" that went up a few houses down from ours. Yes, that is a shipping container. No, muzungus are not invited.



And here is a nice one of my friend Emmy (dreads) running into a friend while we walked to the main road to look for motos at dusk.


I am going to post on Thursdays and Sundays from now on. I know I haven't been keeping you up to date and I am sorry for this. No longer!

8 December, 2009
I am thoroughly exhausted, my body is fatigued in a way it hasn't been in a while, if ever. Today, for our day trip, we went to Ruhengeri, which is the third largest city in Rwanda and in the northern tip of the country - 30 minutes from both Uganda and Congo. We left at 6:45am and it took us about 2.5 hours to get there - maybe a bit more with the stops.

In the north you have the 3 major volcanoes of Rwanda - Muhabura, Karisimbi, and Volcano #3. There are a couple other small ones, but these are the big ones. You also have all the gorillas, and a huge lake in the province of Muhanze, where many postcards are shot.

The plan was to visit a cave and a lake. Guiding us on this tour was William, who can safely be described as The Coolest Person in Africa, and a strong contender as The Coolest Person in Any Continent. He is Rwandese, and was in the RPF starting in '91 when he was 18. He helped free the imprisoned RPF soldiers in 1991 and retreat back to Uganda to retrain the army. He took Kigali along with Kagame in June of 1994 to end the genocide. He marched to Kinshasa in 1997, and fought in Darfur. Now that he is done with the army, he takes people on treks through the mountains of East Africa, figuring out what they want to see and making it possible. He knows everything about the land and is like the ultimate McGyver. Obviously, he is Dano's hero.

The drive was completely stunning and after about an hour and a half we could see the volcanoes. It were so high up that we looked down on other mountain tops and clouds. I tried to get a picture of it but we were speeding by and nothing came out. There were several waterfalls along the way. The size of the volcanoes and the ethereality of the clouds was just phenomenal.


We dropped off the weaker ones at a hotel to walk around while we continued our journey to The Cave. I was pretty nervous about going because I heard it was a long, arduous trek in pitch blackness, and that there were thousands of bats that would fly around you. We all brought flashlights. We drove 10 minutes outside of town and then pulled over into a field. William pointed straight ahead and there was The Mouth of The Cave. There is no way to describe it except that there was a giant black hole in the hill. I began to get more nervous. I, of course, took the lead. (Behind William.)


The Cave was one of the most incredible things I have ever done, if not the most. The ground was slimy and rocky, a million times worse than climbing in anything I've ever climbed before. The darkness was something I wish I could describe - it was eternal. I could hold my hand in front of my face and I would not see it. I could hold a white piece of paper in front of my face and not see it. A couple of us were wearing white and you could not see them. Our flashlights were insignificant, at best. I have never, ever imagined darkness could be like that. It was so incredibly cool. As we climbed down deeper into the cave, I began to hear a slight hissing. "The bats!" I yelled, and William said yes, you could hear them. It sounded like a lot. A few of
the weaker wanted to turn back. We forged ahead.

The hissing got louder and louder, and soon you could pick out bat eyes hanging from the ceiling. Then you noticed there were bats flying everywhere, and more than you could ever imagine. They weren't in your face like I expected them to be, but I was grateful for that. We stood there, turned off our lights, and listened to the bats.

300 years ago, warriors would walk into The Cave and stay there for two weeks without any food - it was a rite of passage to prove themselves to King Mutara. It was a spiritual journey. In 1994, many Rwandese ran into The Cave to hide from the Interhawme. The genocidaires followed them in, and slaughtered all of them, then threw grenades in to finish the job. There was a "left turn" that would have led us down a 6 kilometer wing of The Cave, but the government closed it off because of all the bodies, and it is now a sort of sacred burial ground.

My camera died while in the cave, but I managed to get one of the ceiling and the bats (kind of hard to distinguish) and a very bad one of Oliver and I. The pictures almost ruin in though, because you can't tell the magnificence of the caverns and the flash is so deceiving - the blackness was not a color, it was a void. Insane.


The Cave was shorter than I hoped, because about two minutes in I was more into it than anyone. In only took us about 25-30 minutes to walk through the whole thing - we came up on the other side of a hill and walked back to the cars. I, of course, was the first man out. I win.

We then picked up the others and drove to the lake - a huge, huge lake I do not know the name of. There were many islands in the lake, and the volcanoes kind of surround it. We sat there for a while and relaxed. We skipped stones in the water. I was all about canoeing out, and got everyone excited about it, and William commandeered us a boat. He and I picked it up a bit down from where we were picnicking, so we oared it over to the people, and picked everyone up. Everyone piled in.


We oared for a while. I was starting to get tired, and really hot. We kept going, out, and out and out. My arms felt like they were going to fall off. The water looked so, so good. Kerry said she had an extra pair of pants. I flung off my flipflops, tore off my sweater, and jumped into the lake. Fully clothed. Everyone looked at me as I bobbed there and Jen said "I can't believe you just did that," and then about 5 other people jumped in.

It was glorious. Until I felt the current which was pulling me out into the middle, and I began to (attempt) to swim to shore. Perhaps swimming a half mile in a strongly currented lake after already hiking through The Cave was not a good idea. It must not have been, because I felt like I was going to die. My chest was burning and I couldn't breathe - Dano reminded me of the altitude and asked if I wanted to get back in the boat. Clearly he doesn't know me very well. I did not succumb to the pain, and pushed on, in a very slow combination of back stroke/crawl/side stroke - basically, whatever felt good for a few seconds. I think something may be wrong with me.


Either way, we all made it shore, and we were all also in a lot of pain from our ears - they were popping like there's no tomorrow, worse than any plane I've been on. So I sat there, sopping wet, feeling like I was about to have a heart attack and my ears were going to explode for about 10 minutes. Definitely the low point of the day. But it was all completely worth it.

28 November, 2009

Jen, Dano and I went to the Kigali City Memorial today - it's the biggest and "best" one - very much a nice, modern museum. (No fee!) It was, of course, prohibited to take pictures inside, but I couldn't resist sneaking a few on my phone. I took them after I had seen the whole thing and walked back to take them, so I didn't get as many as I wanted, and I didn't take any of the more gruesome scenes, or any of the room they had filled with bones. I didn't cry at all but felt pretty numb throughout the whole thing. All of the text was written pretty dramatically, but I thought it was a very well done exhibition. They had pictures and history, then a video in every section with interviews with about 6 survivors. Those were pretty intense. One guy whose wife and children were murdered said he could forgive them if he saw the murderers today, while one of the women who watched her sisters get killed said she could never forgive, that only God could, and she was only human. She said "I am not some sort of air." I liked that.

There was a whole section on how no one helped, how the Interhawme killed the five Belgian peacekeepers cause they knew all the whites would withdraw then. The UN sent 5,000 soldiers to evacuate all the foreigners, it was said that that would have been more than enough soldiers to stop the violence. Also, as you know, the whole Hutu/Tutsi thing was something determined by the Belgians in 1932 - if you had more than ten cows you were Tutsi, if you had less than ten you were Hutu.

(I am not really writing in any continuity - just what I think of.)

They had a nasty video of footage of piles of bodies and people's freshly killed bodies or rotting bodies. There was also some of survivors with massive open wounds in their head or somewhere in their body, and then some actual footage of someone being hacked and killed from a distance. It was disgusting. They had a whole case of machetes and clubs with blood on them, they had a room with blood spattered clothing, and as I said, a whole room with bones and skulls. It was all very exhibition and museum like, though, like, nice glass cases and well laid out. Out in the country there are some memorials (and the church at Natarama) where they left the bodies in the place they fell when they were killed, so everything is just laying there, and there's bloodstains on the walls and ground. Don't know if I could manage that. They also had a big picture of Natarama where the pastor accepted 2,000 refugees, then ordered the church to be bulldozed and killed everyone.


There was a room with eight little nooks where people could hang photos of their lost families members (lost as in dead, not missing). This was really sad. The pictures were so normal and personal. 80s and 90s fashion, kids at birthday parties, school photos, family photos, holiday photos, whatever they had - and there were so many. It was impossible to look at every one.


As if that all wasn't enough, they had another exhibition where they highlighted other genocides. (The museum is also a genocide research center, lots of graduate students doing work there.) That was pretty hard - it's like, if everything wasn't enough, let's show you how this has happened all over the million a few times over. So they profiled the Khmer Rouge, Bosnia, the Holocaust, Armenia, the Hereros, and I think that's it. The Cambodian one was so gross - it was mainly about all the torture that happened. 2 million people died from 1975-1979, a quarter of the population of Cambodia. Pol Pot died in his sleep in 1998.


The last part before you were led outside into extensive gardens was dedicated to children. They had big photos of 14 kids (I took photos of every pair - all included) and plaques in front with their names, their hobbies, their favourite foods, their age when they were killed, and how they were killed ('machete to head' 'raped and beaten' 'bludgeoned to death' 'drowned'). Then they had another wall again where families had posted photos of children who had died. There was a plaque with the words "Children, you could have been our national heroes." That's true. We don't know what these kids could have been - they would all be my age now. The entire children part was painted yellow and close to the gardens, with light coming in from outside. The entire rest of the museum was dimly lit and the walls were a steel blue.


Outside there were a lot of gardens (wouldn't be Rwanda if it wasn't completely lush), and then some huge slabs of concrete that were mass graves - 1820 were buried in these 8 or 10 pits. That's the last photo I included.

This is quite long. I am starting to feel more negative as I wrote this. Hope you wanted to know.

It seems as though Rwanda gets ready for Christmas sooner than the states! (Though I am sure the Christmal Carol radio channel has been going strong since October.) I went to Nakumatt yesterday (the "Wal-mart" of Kigali) and there were trees (fake) everywhere, in addition to a large mechanical Santa Claus at the door. I assume since they don't have Thanksgiving to look forward to, it's full steam ahead to Christmas. I've never had a fake tree in my life and I am not about to start.

The past two weeks have been completely different than the first month here. I've been actually working, and teaching! The studio got set up beautifully (I can say that now in retrospect, during the process it was a horrendous headache) with the walls and floors freshly painted, the barre installed, and the curtains hung (after trying a million different ways to McGyver some curtain rods, one idea worked - too long to explain). I made it through explaining a ballet barre, getting the metal brackets designed and made, choosing a nice beige in a world of beige for curtain fabric, having my carpenter profess is undying love for me and graciously turning him down after he brought me lunch two days in a row, a curtain being stolen, a barre bracket falling out of the wall, and everyone who passes by the studio walking in and offering me their services.

We started classes on Monday, the 9th, and I've taught 15 classes since then. I already have 36 students, most of whom are Rwandan (about 22). My body is completely beat after Mondays, when I have four classes, and I am not just standing there and directing, but pretty much dancing with the girls the entire time cause they (generally) have no idea what they are doing.


I was joking with Jen and Dano the other day about how "I work in physical fitness." We had a good laugh. Anyway, there are four more weeks before the winter break, and it's been a good "soft opening" before the full spring term (January-June). I haven't really done any advertising yet, so I hope to get 80 students if I really put some work into it. Here is my Wednesday class of 5 to 7 year olds looking pretty cute. This photo did not come easily!