Village Welcome

Today I had to travel to a village in Rwanda called Jomba, about an hour away. There is no road to Jomba, only a path. I was going there to meet the villagers and greet them on the Bishop's behalf. The people there have set up a savings cooperative together. They each put a set amount of money into a common fund; a portion of the fund is used for local loans, while another fraction is paid out in lump sum to an individual community member each month. They scrape to commit about a quarter's worth each month, individually. But they have figured out that, together, they can purchase and breed chickens and goats, even pay to move their woven goods to a town market. There are many such rural programs going on around Rwanda and Uganda. Some of them are very creative.

So I set out for Jomba. As usual, I was supposed to arrive around 9, and I got there at about 11:30 (time will become a common motif to this string of blog posts I think). It is not much of a village, only a meeting building, church and school - all huts
really. But they sit atop the highest hill around, overlooking the Rwandan landscape in all directions. The 'villagers' are mostly subsistence farmers from surrounding valleys. They convene on this hilltop.

So I finally arrive, carrying a chicken as a good-will present. Before meeting, they danced. Today was also a rite-of-passage graduation for 8 village adolescents. They coordinated my arrival with the traditional dance as a sort of welcome. So 4 young men and women, dressed in traditional African robes and colors, danced fiercely to the beat of a sheepskin drum, jumping and spinning and performing erotically to symbolize passage into adult life. It was amazing. Something out of a storybook.

After the festivity, I met with local leaders to discuss the terms and progress of their cooperative. By mid-afternoon all was finished, and the elders ushered me into their community building to share lunch. I hadn't expected food, and I was eager to return to town. But I was starving, and it was a fantastic surprise. So on a whim I found myself in a dim hut, in a circle of rural village elders, eating goat and potatoes and peas from my lap. [Sidebar - by some miracle, everyone was drinking Coke. I am sure after this trip that the Coca-Cola brand has the most recognized logo on earth. My bottle had a date from 1995; I'm hoping it was recycled.] The room was filled with sounds of chewing, no conversation. At one point, the elder directly across from me ripped off one of the loudest burps I've ever heard. Without looking up or any break in chewing, the people around me raised their eyebrows, grunted in approval, and continued devouring their plates. I laughed to myself at learning another new custom.

Peace & Love.