Become an agent of Reconciliation TODAY!

I am only a Transformational Engineer. Imagine if we all stand together what we can achieve on the social injustice front. I read a great article from Zach Roberts - read article here(http://www.dogwoodgreensboro.org/) on this topic. We can change injustice - if we really want to. I am no politician - just a man who loves people and want to see others treated with dignity and respect. Like ZIMBABWE - we are on the brink of a war. I stay 124 km from the Zimbabwe border in Mozambique and believe me if I say ..... we need your voice.
The man in your picture, "Comrade Robert Gabriel Mugabe" with his youth militia did the following in the last few weeks in Zimbabwe with the whole world watching:

• Kill more than 87 leaders of the opposition party;
• Burnt more than 20 000 houses;
• 10 000 Zimbabweans have been seriously injured;
• and more than 200 000 Zimbabweans are fleeing on foot in Zimbabwe - nowhere to go and nowhere to hide;
• Half of the country who were lucky enough fled the country already.

Source: Reuters/News 24

On Friday, 27th June, Zimbabwe will hold a cruel sham of a vote for President. The opposition Movement for Democratic Change has just withdrawn from the run-off -- not in a concession of victory, but rather in recognition that Mugabe's campaign of violence and terror has erased any hope for a democratic election. Africa can't let this go on -- it's time for us to act.

The United Nations Security Council unanimously held on Monday that free and fair elections are now impossible in Zimbabwe. The UN Secretary-General spoke out. But it is African leaders like Thabo Mbeki who hold the key. Even Mugabe cannot cling to power without their cooperation.

Today, we're launching an emergency campaign, petitioning these leaders to call an immediate summit, isolate Mugabe, and broker a legitimate government for Zimbabwe.

We aim to publish our call in big newspaper advertisements including in South Africa, Tanzania, Angola and Mozambique this week -- click here to see the ads and endorse their message, then spread the word:http://www.avaaz.org/en/save_zimbabwe/8.php?cl=101337550

Robert Mugabe saved Zimbabwe from colonialism. Now it's time for African leaders to save Zimbabwe from him. Zimbabwe's neighbours supply its electricity and goods, and control the borders. Many Southern African leaders are already calling for the postponement of the election -- but there's a real danger that they will end up accepting this charade. And if Mugabe succeeds in his de facto coup, Zimbabwe's implosion will accelerate, and chaos could spread throughout the region.Our campaign will publicly name those African leaders who hold Mugabe's last remaining lifeline. If they step up strongly now, they can convince enough of Mugabe's officials that change is coming one way or another -- and set the stage for Morgan Tsvangirai to lead a unity government to pull Zimbabwe back together.

Help us raise 250,000 voices this week, including a great roar from every country in Africa, to be delivered in an immediate multi-country ad campaign. Click to see the ads, sign, and then forward this message to friends:

http://www.avaaz.org/en/save_zimbabwe/8.php?cl=101337550

With hope and determination,

Francois Rauch

The last cruel chapter - Rwanda!

I am sometimes reluctant to place an article like this - my last true experience in Rwanda. But if we are to have true justice and reconciliation we have to face the truth - however harsh it may be. I love the people of Rwanda. May this help us all to be aware and active in our communities and governments so this will never happen again - ANYWHERE - EVER!

Please beware that there are some graphic photos in this article.

“It’s time to cut down the tall trees…” and with these words on 6 April 1994, a genocide of brutal ferocity and speed was inflicted upon the people of Rwanda. The tall trees comment was the code word for a carefully calculated campaign that saw one million people butchered by the crudest of weapons - mostly the machete - within 100 days. With the exception of the only two agencies that remained in the country throughout the genocide - The International Red Cross and Medecins Sans Frontieres - the world deserted Rwanda in its darkest hour.

Throughout rural Rwanda you will espy men dressed in dark pink overalls working on farms and other projects through the countryside. These people are considered category three prisoners (category one being planners and organisers, category two being those who oversaw the massacres) and they committed acts of murder during the genocide. However, there are several Westerns leaders (particularly the Belgium and French) and the highest levels of the UN that knew exactly what was occurring. Their complicity in failing to intervene means that some former Presidents and high-ranking UN officials should be wearing the pink uniform and working in the fields of Rwanda.

Lines of skulls - Murambi Genocide Memorial, Rwanda

It was as if these leaders had personally handed machetes for the murderers to do their worst.

One of the most potent reminders for visitors are the numerous genocide monuments that scatter the country. One cannot travel far without seeing a memorial that recalls those terrible days. The most visited is the Kigali Memorial Centre, which is a sobering display on the planning, execution and resolution of the genocide. This was an event meticulously planned, and despite the warnings emanating from the country from informants who alerted the world community before the event, nothing was done to prevent these horrors. A visit here fills you with sadness, anger and a degree of guilt.

However, the more powerful memorials are those of the sites themselves. Ntarama was the location of a church where 5000 people huddled to escape the surrounding violence. Despite the brave efforts of the menfolk of the region, the padlocked doors were eventually breached on 10 April 1994, and almost every woman, child and elderly person was murdered amongst the low wooden and concrete pews. Nowadays, the tattered clothes of the deceased hang in clumps around the walls and the stench of decay is sickening. Skulls and

Schoolbooks within the Ntarama Genocide Memorial, Rwanda

other bones lay in rows at the back of the church, whilst the front contains the belongings of the victims including their shoes and schoolbooks. The scale of the genocide is almost incomprehensible, for though one can visit this church where 5000 were killed, one would need to call upon another 200 sites like this to fully understand what transpired.

But worst was yet to come - for the most awful of sights greeted me at the genocide memorial in Murambi, which was once a technical college near to the town of Gikongoro in the south of the country. Here, some of the most depraved atrocities of the genocide were perpetrated. After seeking shelter at the college from the massacres by remaining in the close company of stationed French soldiers, these armed forces callously departed on 17 April 1994, and by sunset on 21 April, 50,000 people had been brutally slaughtered by machete - most of them within a period of several hours when truckloads of men armed with weapons arrived in the predawn darkness.

As a tribute, some 800 of the murdered victims were exhumed and their bodies coated in lime to preserve them for the world to see what occured.

Photos of genocide victims - Kigali Memorial Centre, Rwanda

These white withered bodies, laid in rows upon rows on pale slated wooden platforms are frozen at the time of their final moment. One could see people who had raised their hands to their face at the time of death to vainly protect themselves, whilst others wore contorted expressions of horror and pain. There are the corpses of adults still clutching their frail children - both bodies huddled together in a shared anguish. The manner of their deaths is also evident - as one could clearly see crushed bones caused by machetes across throats, chests and abdomens. Some had initially suffered broken ankles so that they could not escape their ultimate fate. The most upsetting corpse was that of a young child, probably about eight-ten years of age, whose small abdomen was totally crushed by the full power of a machete.

This memorial was extremely distressing, thus requiring me to leave the rooms several times to clear my head and vision, for it was not only the sight of these corpses, but also the overpowering stench of lime that evoked such emotions. Another group of foreigners on a healing pilgrimage were visiting at the same time, and one could see some of them slumped on the grass and openly weeping or standing numbly in disbelief.

Entrance to the Kigali Memorial Centre, Rwanda

Whilst in one of these rooms, another visitor sagely commented in a wavering voice; “How can you kill so many helpless women and children and still call yourself human?” Though I clinically detached myself from the surrounds and took photos of these rooms and remains, upon reviewing the pictures later, the full shock of Murambi struck me, and many of these images are just too graphic to display on this blog.

In order to conclude the journey to Rwanda on a more positive tone, I visited the Hotel des Milles Collines, or what is more commonly known as Hotel Rwanda. This is a place, as Lonely Planet so eloquently described, “where horror and hope collided”. I wandered through the foyer and enjoyed a meal at the famous pool, whose water was used for drinking as supplies ran low within the hotel. Interestingly, there is not one plaque, notice or any other reminder of the noble and brave acts that occurred here in 1994 - acts that saved the lives of over one thousand people.

One of many - Kigali Memorial Centre, Rwanda

250,000 people are buried within the Centre's grounds..

The final chapter of this story is recounted from Arusha in Tanzania, where I attended a day’s hearing of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. Here I witnessed the trial of four former Rwandan government Ministers who were allegedly key organisers of the genocide. After the usual security clearances, one could normally choose from three concurrent trials, though one was being conducted in closed session. After entering a long enclosed viewing room, you could wear headphones that would translate the current language being spoken into either English, French or Kinyarwanda by just switching radio channels. Listening to the legal argument and the presentation of evidence was such a sterile and detached environment when compared to the visceral memorials in Rwanda.

This Tribunal is a large part of the healing process, and certainly Rwanda has made significant progress towards reconciliation and discarded many of its troubles. There are now numerous international groups working throughout Rwanda facilitating the rebuilding of trust throughout the land and the changes in the intervening years has been remarkable. However, time does not heal all wounds, and one can still sense a terrible sadness underlying some sections of the community.

A church that is now the Ntarama Genocide Memorial, Rwanda

Though many words will be stated in courtrooms, and many hands of assistance will be offered from caring foreigners, there will still be many tears shed for generations to come.

Please pray for Rwanda and Burundi. There are wonderul Godly, good and friendly people in these countries who need our constant prayers.

Nursing team reaches out by submerging into MOZ Culture!

Submerge =
(v) sink below the surface; go under or as if under water
(v) cover completely or make imperceptible; "I was drowned in work"; "The noise drowned out her speech"
(v) put under water; "submerge your head completely"
(v) fill or cover completely, usually with water

Culture =
(n) a particular society at a particular time and place; "early Mayan civilization"
(n) the tastes in art and manners that are favored by a social group
(n) all the knowledge and values shared by a society

I think the word “appreciation” adequately describes one of the outcomes of last week’s events for the team of nursing students from Prairie (Canada). The week was kick-started by them spending 3 days in homes in the nearby local community. One of their objectives was to glean information about community health and there’s no better way to do that than to interact closely with one’s subject! So for each morning, from Monday to Wednesday, the students and instructors paired up to go spend the day in nearby homes participating in daily activities as rural Mozambicans do (at least as much as possible). They carried babies on their backs, pounded corn with a mortar and pestle, hauled water on their heads (ouch!), savoured local food, planted gardens, wove grass, etc.

At the end of their experience they had a much better appreciation for the challenges the people here face in order to simply survive.
On Thursday last week we accompanied the staff from Vanduzi Hospital on a community vaccination blitz to Chitundo. There was a miscommunication about dates so attendance wasn’t as good as expected, but we drew a crowd regardless.

Lynn Lagore (our medical guru) was responsible for taking care and co-ordinating these nurses. Lynn understands culture and her influence on the group was contagious! (Maybe not a good word to use with nurses!) Lynn is a qualified Canadian nurse and it is wonderful to have her on the base.

Article and photos by: Lynn Lagore (Head: Medical Outreach)

May our churches represent LIFE!

My friend Shane Dallas send me this article and it made me think about church a lot!

The place really does exist - Church of Bone, Evora, Portugal

Notice the clever use of the pelvic bone in the lower portion of the photo.

“A church made of bone!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, and tastefully done too,” came Ralph’s reply. The bus taking both of us from the city of Palmyra in Syria continued to rumble along the dusty, desert highway as visions of a bone church unfurled in my mind. I again questioned, “Human bone?” and the answer, though expected, was still a surprising “Yes”. I contemplated such a church, and thought that anything constructed of human bone would be confined to the realm of computer games, where these unholy places were always guarded by a great horned demon who pursued any foolhardy intruder relentlessly with a massive spiked club. The words, “I must see this place!” soon leapt from my mouth with great conviction, and thus my quest was born.

Unfortunately, the learned Ralph could not recall the location of this sacred place as he happened upon it by accident during his travels in Portugal many years before. Thus I consulted the much-respected oracle called Google, and the answer was forthcoming. There were two such churches in Portugal - a smaller one in Faro, but the larger one, called Capela dos Ossos (Chapel of Bone) resided at the St Francis Church in the

The Church of Bone "Capela dos Ossos" - Evora, Portugal

small town of Evora. It was constructed in the 16th century with the bones from the local graveyard. It was simply the most magical village.

Within the confines of the town’s medieval stone walls lay the church of St Francis, and the infamous Church of Bone. My final charge towards the chapel was inconveniently halted by the afternoon siesta and so I patiently waited at the locked iron-gate. At the appointed hour, the large metal lock was unclamped with much noise and I strode forth to fulfil my quest. Turning the corner, I passed under a marble lintel at the entrance inscribed with the words “We bones that are here, we are waiting for yours” and crossed the threshold to behold what was beyond. It was larger than I imagined, a long chamber partly lit by a sickly green light that illuminated the pillars that ran in two rows along the hall. But it was the walls that commanded the most attention, for they were totally covered by thousands upon thousands of whitened human bones.

The sight of this scene halted my movement as I observed this macabre scene before me. But it was not the ghoulish or grotesque place of my imaginings, instead it was a tastefully and creatively constructed room. The ends of bones were the prominent decoration, but they would be interspersed with ordered lines of skulls, or bones laid horizontally to form numerous grim patterns. The more one looked, the more bones one could see. The pillars were likewise decorated, as were portions of the ceiling and the frames of the windows and doors. At one corner hung a ghastly skeleton, which appeared to be gilded and still wearing portions of a tattered shroud. Its head hung limply in lament, possibly doing so because its feet had detached from the rest of its body and were laying on the floor.

At the far lay from the entrance stood an altar with the image of a crucifix within a golden altarpiece, it was the only item that bore any semblance to a standard church. But even this area was tightly enclosed with ceiling decorations in the form of skulls and doorways jammed with an enormous number of bones around its frames. Other people came and went from the chapel and their reactions were a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Though the visit of most people was only for a maximum of ten minutes, I remained far longer, so long in fact, that there were many times when I was the sole occupant of this room - just me and innumerable human bones. Whilst surveying this church in one of these solitary periods, it was difficult to believe that someone could conceive the idea of a bone room for a religious purpose.

However, this is placed into perspective by one of the poems written for the church, a fragment that contains the words:

“Look you hasty walker!

Stop, don’t go further more;

No business is more important Than this one at your display.

Bear in mind how many are here,

Think you’ll have a similar end!

Then to reflect,

this is reason enough

As we all should think it over.”

So this is a room of prayer and meditation, though one of a most unlikely design. After almost 40 minutes in this place, the sight of all these bones started to slightly unnerve me, and I quietly backed away into the world of the living. My interest in the church of bone had been piqued several weeks before, and after many hours in a plane and an equal number on the road, the quest had finally been completed.

This made me think seriously about church and what we stand for. May we shed life in our churches. May it always be a living organism where we will make room for all. Let us never become a warehouse where we all look the same - be dead bones but a breath of fresh air to a weary seeker.

Lessons from the African Continent

I have met Sarah and Ron in Rwanda. They are 2 lovely young people with a passion for others. They work in Burundi and they shared their lessons with us. I am laughing so hard right now - because we have gone through them ourselves!

Africa Lesson #1: I'm not late, I'm just not early.

Africa Lesson#2: Never volunteer information. If they haven't asked, they must not want to know.

Africa Lesson #3: Never assume the identity of a condiment. (Memo to my sweet hubby: I TOLD you that was not parmesan cheese. Did you like the dried milk powder on your potatoes?)

Africa Lesson #4: Roosters are of the devil/We Need HOAs (Our neighbor has one. Crows every morning...and afternoon...and evening.)

Africa Lesson #5: We hope you like lunch cause you'll be having it for dinner. And the next meal. And the next meal. And the meal after that.

Africa Lesson #6: The "dry" season really means "the drier season"

Africa Lesson #7: White skin color does not rub off (despite continuous and well-meaning efforts by excited Burundian children)

Africa Lesson #8: "Mzungu" ("white person"!) is my new name.

Africa Lesson #9: Honking is a legitimate form of road communication.

Africa Lesson #10: All traffic laws, rules, signs and regulations are suggestions.

Africa Lesson #11: Rain = No Internet Today

Africa Lesson #12: Simple carbs, baby. Everybody's doing it. (We live on a diet of rice, bananas, potatoes and bread. Nice.)

Africa Lesson #13: Craters? Nope. Potholes.

Africa Lesson #14: The road is for all of God's creatures. (Cows, goats, chickens, a car, and a mother with a baby on her back all have right of way...at the same time.)

Africa Lesson #15: If you've arrived in town before McDonald's has, you've got cajones, baby.

Can't Remember Anniversary

Just could'nt resist this one! Sorry!

My friend Margaret mentioned that her husband, George, never could remember their wedding anniversary on March 7.

One year, when they were en route to Australia, at five minutes before midnight on March 6, George proudly looked at Margaret and said, "This year I remembered. Just five minutes."

At that moment the captain's voice announced, "We have crossed the International Date Line. It's now March 8."

Rwanda Gorillas

I have had so many e-mails of people asking me if I went to see gorillas in Rwanda. Well .... I decided to rather blog my answer - easier!

Believe it or not I did NOT go and see gorillas in Rwanda. Well .... at US$500 for 1 hour to see a gorilla I thought it would be cheaper to just watch the mirror instead. It was pretty expensive and obviously a tourist trap. I felt sad .... but then I met a great guy in Rwanda - Shane D Dallas. He was an Australian touring the world. Shane is passionate about travelling to different cultures and countries and does so whenever he is able to excuse himself from his usual employment. I met him at one of the genocide cites we visited. Not a good place to meet someone but he had great stories from all over the world. He promised that he would take some great pics as he was on his way to see gorillas. Well ..... he shared his story and truly had some great pics.

SHANE'S REPORT

Why is it that few people mention how physically challenging it is to view the gorillas, as vertical climbs, precarious precipices, incredibly dense foliage and stinging nettles by the hundreds all awaited our intrepid party. A crisp morning saw people of varying nationalities assemble for our briefing at the Tourism Office in Kinigi, a small village nestled amongst some beautiful mountain scenery. Only eight people are allowed to see each group per day, and though there were seven groups available, there were only approximately 30 people who had paid the US$500 in order to spend just one hour with this most [View Full Entry]

PS I wonder who won this battle?

Good news and more good news!

So much are happening around us that it is difficult to keep up. No no ..... forget about the oil price, rising food prices and all the consumerism out there in the concrete jungle. God has been gracious throughout all these horrific things happening out there in the world. Here is a quick update on what has been happening on the base and around us in our communities in the bush:

BEANS AND VEGGIES GALORE!

Thanks to the generosity of Vanduzi Limitada (a company that grows veggies for the European and the UK market) we are now receiving a few tons of fresh veggies every week.

The beneficiaries of all these veggies will be our bush schools, orphans, widows and other handicapped precious people who struggle to make ends meet in the bush. This year we have had a disastrous planting season again due to too much rain. The lady receiving some of these veggies is a leprosy patients and are looked after by the mission.

PRE-SCHOOL NEARLY FINISHED

The floor of our newly build pre-school are being poured and the finishing touches are being applied by our builders. This school will house about 150 pre-schoolers and will also help the community school to teach part of their 700 students. Timber are currently being cut so that the roof could be finished. Visiting groups are ready to tackle the paint job.

MORE WORK ON THE BASE

Dwight is on a mission. Yeah literally!! The team decided it was time for a new entry road and the mission team hard at work to get drainage pipes ready. Did I mention Earl Trakovski in the photo. He was a missionary in Brazil for more than 35 years and is still going strong. He is in his 70's (he really looks early 50's though!) but when it comes to technical issues (and spiritual issues) he is a giant. Earl gave up another 3 months of his life to come and help us out on the base. What a man!

Our new entry road. Will still have to decide if this new road will have an unique name! Maybe we will call it AMAHORO AVENUE!

NURSES REACH OUT AND HEAL

We again have had the privilege to receive a few nursing students from Canada. Their primary objective is not just to gain experience in a third world culture but to teach, treat and heal.

Please keep on praying for the multitude of activities taking place on the mission base. For the next 4 weeks we will have several visiting groups from Cape Town reaching out - despite the rising oil prices and ever increasing living costs. Thank you again for caring.

Relationships between Mozambique and SA hurt!

Xenophobia in South Africa hurt the relationship between Mozambicans and South Africans in more than one way. On my return to Mozambique I had to answer many questions to local communities so they could understand the situation.

The South African High Commissioner to Mozambique, Thandi Lujabe-Rankoe, on 4 June officially apologised for the anti-foreigner pogroms in South Africa which have left 62 people, about half of them Mozambicans, dead, and have driven tens of thousands from their homes.
As she delivered a donation to the government’s relief agency, the National Disasters Management Institute (INGC), intended for the Mozambican victims of the mob violence, Lujabe-Rankoe said “there is so much sorrow for what has happened. We offer our sincere apologies”.

She recognised that Mozambicans have lived and worked in South Africa since before she was born, and those who were defending the interests of a tiny handful of people would not be able to change that situation. “We won wars in favour of the unity of our peoples, and today we have opened the borders so that the peoples of the two countries can circulate freely”, she said. “Our enemies are not happy about this. They want to separate us”.

Lujabe-Rankoe said she was confident that the situation in her country will return to normal, thus allowing the Mozambicans who have fled across the border to return to South Africa.
According to INGC national director, Joao Ribeiro, to date about 37,000 Mozambicans have fled.
The government set up a transit centre on the outskirts of Maputo that can hold 2,000 people, but the most that stayed there at any one time was 400.

Latest news on Rwanda

KIGALI (Reuters) - Rwanda has for the first time arrested senior army officers accused of war crimes while battling to end the 1994 genocide orchestrated by the country's previous government, Rwanda's military said on Thursday.

In a reversal of more than a decade of reluctance to point the finger at top soldiers seen by many as heroes in the central African nation, Rwanda said it would send the four officers before a military court for the killing of 13 clergymen.

"The military prosecution authorities ... (on Wednesday) ordered and effected arrest of four suspects," a statement from Rwandan Defense Forces spokeswoman Major Jill Rutaremara said.
The arrested men are Brigadier-General Wilson Gumisiriza, Major Wilson Ukwishaka, Captain John Butera and retired Captain Dieudonne Rukeba, the statement said.

Rights groups have long accused members of the Rwanda Patriotic Army (RPA), a Tutsi-led guerrilla group that fought its way to power in 1994, of killing innocent civilians and urged prosecution.

Current President Paul Kagame successfully commanded the RPA as it overthrew the Hutu-led government that organized the slaughter of 800,000 Tutsis and Hutu sympathizers in one of Africa's grisliest episodes.

The four are charged with responsibility for the acts of subordinates accused of killing the clergymen out of anger, after finding family members slaughtered in the church compound where they had sought sanctuary from Hutu militiamen, Rutaremara said.
The arrests followed investigations by the Rwandan government and officials from the Tanzania-based International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), a U.N. court that has mainly been trying the Hutu organizers of the genocide.

Rwandan clergy have been among those prosecuted.

Last week, Rwanda's prosecutor-general gave assurances to the U.N. Security Council that some army officers would soon be indicted for the crimes.

Since 1994, Rwandan military says it has prosecuted 43 soldiers accused of war crimes and revenge killings in its military courts.

A Zulu, an Afrikaner and a R100!

During my visit to Rwanda I had the most amazing experience during my first night there. I had to share a room with someone but I arrived earlier than my roommate. I was drowzing off when I heard someone knocking. I woke and opened the door (pretending to be wide awake!) The first word I heard was: "Oh God help me .... a white man!" I laughed and gave my great black brother from Africa a big hug. He was a big man with an even bigger smile. I could see the love of Christ in his eyes though. I said to him: "Hey brother don't worry about my skin. I havent been in the sun that much this year. I am an African by birth and by choice." (One of my favourite sayings.)

Only then I realized as we were in discussion that he was a Zulu from South Africa. I mean what is the chance of me meeting and sharing a room with a Zulu in the middle of Africa - Rwanda. His name is Reggie (or his real Zulu name Rev. Sakhele Makhubo) He shared his pain and what he had to go through in pre-Apartheid South Africa. I could sense the hurt and pain. He wasn't bitter and joked about many of the terrible things he went through. He was well articilated and a great man of God. I listened quietly (and although I love to verbalize I could just listen and cry!) During our few days together we connected in a Godly way (I mean we were in Rwanda to converse in dialog about Reconciliation and Healing).

Our last night together changed my whole life! We sat on the bed getting ready to sleep (..... it was one o'clock). He took both my hands and said something astounding. He said: "Francois we have connected in a great way. I asked God to take me out of this room when I saw you the first night. You were white and a South African. I did'nt feel comfortable at all. I wanted to run!" And then he said with tears flowing: "Francois, I need you to need me!" I came as such a surprise because I always feel others need me - living and working in Mozambique with the poorest of the poor. He reached under his pillow and took out his wallet and handed me R100. Everything in me screamed "NO" - there must be other people out there who needed this more (and believe me there were others who needed it more in Rwanda!) God spoke to my heart with just a simple word "BE QUIET!" I accepted the R100 (it obviously was not about the money!)

Reggie himself did not have a lot of money. He himself was a poor preacher with a family in South Africa - Johannesburg. "Thank you that you excepted the money and showing me that you needed me", he said. "In fact I am going to empy my whole wallet and give you all I have."

He emptied his already empy wallet and gave me R400 to take with me for the work of God.

I could only cry and realized how we rob people of their selfworth. They need to feel needed.

Maybe you need to feel needed. Maybe your neighbour has the need to feel needed. Maybe it is your enemy who has the need to feel needed. As God to help you ..... to show you someone who has the need to feel needed. I came to Rwanda to give but God taught me the biggest lesson ever: "Make other people feel needed" - this will bring true reconciliation and healing.

When Africa speaks!

I have been away for a while ..... hope ya all are doing just fine! The month that I have been away was an awesome, grieving, happy, sad, moving and life changing experience. One can never be the same when Africa opens her heart and speak. You want to listen. My time in Rwanda reflecting on reconciliation and healing challenged me in more way than one.


It is extremely difficult to share all I have experienced but I will slowly share the many bits and pieces in chunks that makes it easier for you to swallow! I will have to start with a poem from Brian McLaren to summarize my heart.


CULTURE GRIEF


They dance and sing as we arrive.
Dust rises ‘round us like rusty smoke.
Our dancing crowd moves like a swarm
Up the hill, through the village, to the center.
Short men smile and clap their welcome.
Women sway in tattered skirts.
One old woman leaps and spins,
Breasts flapping like out-turned pockets,
Arms arcing out like wings.
She dips, leans this way, that,
Eyes wild and alive as a dare.
Boys around me fuse like pistons
Into an engine of percussion.
They jump and stomp, rise and fall,
Feet in complex rhythms
Beating the earth-drum with themselves
As one.

We share the ecstasy of tribal and tribeless finding one
another
After a thousand centuries
Apart.

Led by the hand, I stoop down, crawl sideways,
fingerprinting red dust,
Into a Batwa hut of sticks, vines, mud, grass.
I, a visitor here, a stranger welcomed, strangely warm,
Adjust to the dim and humane light:
Reed mats, a torn mosquito net, dirt floor, three stones,
A cooking pot and gray embers from the morning fire.
I turn, push out, and squint, delivered back into stark
midday sun.
A baby cries in fear,
Mine the first white face his eyes have ever seen.
In light of what has happened, he is right
To cry,
In this, his sad world, and mine, of light
And dark.

These little people, small as splinters in the palm of Africa’s
pain -
Their poor neighbors despise them: smelly, dirty, poor,
simple.
They have too little water to drink,
None to spare for washing.
They sleep on dirt, in huts,
On land they do not own.
When it rains, they get wet.
Unowned, they even lack the value of slaves.
They do not count.
In school, Tutsi and Hutu alike make fun,
Reconciled in their shared disdain,
And so Batwa seldom last more than a year or two
In school,
If that.

The chief, named No-Name by his parents,
Gathers us beneath a kind of trellis.
Speeches are made. People clap.
Eyes meet eyes.
Shy smiles form.
Gifts exchange. My eyes brim.
Somehow they know I am here
To keep a promise and save
My soul.

They sing and dance again as we depart.
For a while I join them stomping in the rising dust,
Wishing I could stay.
What are they singing? I ask.
The translator by my side leans toward me:
They are singing a good-bye song, he says.
The Batwa sing and dance when guests arrive
And when they leave.
They sing when they have food, he says,
And when they hunger they sing.
They survive, he says,
This way.



Francois privileged to be photographed with Daniel, member of Parliament in Burundi. He is the representative of the Twa people of which Brian McLaren wrote the poem above. Please pray for the Twa people.