Today, we had a gate sale.

A few weeks ago, Margie, roommate, colleague, and friend, told me about The Reverse 100 Thing Challenge, which, as the name implies, is a challenge to get rid of 100 items by December 15th. When she told me about this, I thought it would be great to partake in, especially since she too was joining in the challenge. So, after just a few days, we had gathered a few things...and then a few more...until we had about 150 items.

Instead of giving everything away like the challenge said, we had the idea of holding a gate sale. I personally don't believe in handouts, and honestly, it was very likely that our donated clothes would've just ended up being turned around and sold for profit anyway. So, offering our items for a significantly reduced price seemed like the best way for a win-win situation.

Early in the morning, around 7:30, we began setting up our goods outside our gate. Unfortunately, in the chaos of things I was unable to get a picture, but I'm sure you can imagine the scene caused by 2 foreigners and their guard setting up a mini-market in front of their house. About 2 hours later, every piece of clothing, down to the last pair of socks, was gone.

However, those 2 hours were not without drama. One woman tried to walk off with an armful of clothing without first paying for it. A huge commotion ensued in which the woman, our guard, and 2 bystanders were yelling at each other. Margie and I tried in vain to make peace, but everyone ignored us and continued raising their voices instead. In the end, the woman walked off, clothing in hand, without having given us any money. I still don't know what happened.

Another incident, towards the end, had equally as much drama as the first. This time, a man who was wearing a necklace and a shirt that I was selling, simply waved to me, smiling, as he walked off with my stuff, despite my requests for payment. The crowd just watched as he left, doing nothing to stop him or intervene. When I gave my guard the look of, "What are you going to do about that?", my guard just gave me a grin and shrugged.

After Margie and I closed our gate, counted our "profit," and had a chance to think about what happened out there, we realized there were many items that were "sold" that we had no recollection of selling. Things like a bottle of lotion, a power strip, some books, and a jar, to name a few, did not get paid for. In the midst of the chaos, drama, and commotion, we were robbed - not once, not twice, but multiple times. As Margie and I discussed this situation, there was one thing we simply could not understand: Why would anyone steal something that we were already selling for such a reasonable price? I could understand if our items were very expensive, but we did not quote a price of anything more than $1.50. Furthermore, more often than not, we conceded to what the buyer offered, which was usually somewhere between 20 and 50 cents for one article of clothing. Was it because they needed those items so badly and simply did not have the means to pay for it? Or, was it because we were foreigners? Because they assumed we were rich and would be fine if we didn't receive payment for something?

It's going to take a few days to process all the events of today, and to answer the questions that are swimming around in my head. But, there's one thing I know for sure, and that is while in the end this gate sale was probably somewhat of a win-win situation, it is never going to happen again.

So, like I said before: Today, we had a gate sale. 

there comes a time

jaded.
done in.
exhausted.
fatigued.
weary.
drained.
burnt out.

So many words to describe the way that I have been feeling lately. I have to admit that I've been trying to deny the fact that I really might indeed be burnt out. When I first felt this - this feeling of absolute tiredness - I attributed it to a lack of sleep (and, honestly, to being under-stimulated). However, after forcing myself to get 8+ hours of sleep a few nights in a row and experiencing no positive changes, I finally admitted defeat to one of the most common syndromes in my line of work.

It's funny how you just can't snap out of being burnt out (maybe you can but I haven't found the answer yet). I wonder if we were created to reach this point so that we would finally stop to take care of ourselves. Granted, sometimes it's not possible to stop and treat yourself to a day off, or to find a place of refuge and solitude in which to recuperate and recharge, but most of the time, it is. Unfortunately, sometimes, even when we do take time to refuel, it doesn't stop the inevitable from happening.

Needless to say, I am counting down the days (31 to be exact) when I will be back home. I know that being "home" might not be much different from being here, after all, I will still have the responsibilities and demands of life. But, perhaps the cure for being burnt out is more of a shift in mentality than anything else. This isn't to say that fatigue and exhaustion doesn't affect a person physically, because we all know that it does, but home is home because we choose it to be, and that is attributed to a mentality. Everything that is associated with "home" - comfort, safety, shelter, love - are things that we create to be truths in our mind just as much as they are truths in the physical sense.

I am now realizing that one of the most effective ways to prevent against being burnt out (regardless of where you are) is to be in community. When I lived in China for two years, I took community for granted because we were sent out by my organization in groups. Up until about 2 months ago, I also took community for granted here in Rwanda. It was only after my best friend left that I understood the importance of community - the life that it breathes, the comfort and shelter that it offers - a home away from home. This, of course, isn't to say that having community makes you immune to exhaustion and burn out, but it really does help slow down the process and provide a safe space for if and when it does happen.

I guess all this is to say that my views of being independent have changed. I used to think I could do everything on my own - and even wanted to do everything on my own. Maybe I'm finally growing up, but life really is better when you have others to share it with.

Pottery Class in Kigali

For those of you who know me, you know that I love my arts & crafts.

Unfortunately, one of the hardest things about being overseas for an extended period of time is the inability to find an outlet for my creativity when I'm feeling antsy, or stressed, or downright bored. Though I have seriously considered it, it's a bit impractical to lug my sewing machine and my XL moving box filled with scrapbooking/card making/all craft related materials across the Atlantic (I do, however, have my eyes set on a mini-sewing machine that may alleviate this problem for any future overseas living). In the past 10 months, I've tried to make do with what I have - I've shredded up t-shirts to try some up-cycling projects, invaded a friend's house to use her sewing machine to make tote bags, tried to get into patterning since it only requires a pen and paper, and in my desperation one evening, super-glued some fabric scraps to a beer bottle to beautify our makeshift candle holder. Believe it or not, those things haven't quite hit the spot.

So, you can imagine my utter joy when I found out that Kigali was starting a Traditional Pottery Class! 5,000RWF (about 8USD) got you a morning of unlimited pottery making in a small group environment and a trainer to assist in learning the trade. And, the best part of it? The proceeds are going towards helping the Cooperative Moderne de Poterie purchase a glazing kiln, in hopes that it will help increase sales and production. I don't know about you, but spending money that has a "good cause" attached to it always makes it easier to justify my expenditures (especially when those expenditures really shouldn't be there in the first place). I, of course, signed up for the first session available.

Needless to say, the experience was quite enjoyable. And therapeutic! There's nothing like getting your hands dirty working with clay that has been brought from a local river, sitting in a secluded area of the city surrounded by hills and pastures full of goats and cows, and doing something that requires some level of creativity! I still haven't retrieved my pot, vase, bowl, and candle holder from the two sessions that I have attended, but I'm excited to bring them back to the house so they can be utilized for the purpose they were created for! I can't say that this pottery class has completely filled the void that has been a result of months and months of mediocre crafting opportunities, but its a great start and I'll take what I can get. Until I arrive back in the US (in only 5 weeks!), I don't have any other other choice but to be content with what is available to me and to keep updating my list of project ideas!

"This thing Jesus called the kingdom of God is emerging across the globe in the most unexpected places, a gentle whisper amid the chaos. Little people with big dreams are re-imagining the world. Little movements of communities of ordinary radicals are committed to doing small things with great love."  (Shane Claiborne, Irresistible Revolution)

some days are harder than others

 As I stood in a bucket the other day, trying to collect the flow of dirty water from my shower to later use for flushing the toilets, I thought to myself, "Some days are harder than others."

A few days earlier, prior to this shower incident, we had been pretty lucky. We had running water almost every day for about 3 weeks, and even started to take it for granted. For those of you who have never lived in a place where running water is unreliable, you can't possibly know the feeling of anticipation every time you turn a faucet to check for water. Unfortunately, these days we've been in a dry spell of sorts - it's been excessively hot with no rain in sight, and it's affected our water situation a great deal. Sometimes, we can go a few days without water. Luckily, we have a small tank outside of our house that has been filled up in anticipation for times like this, but with 4 girls living in a house, water can become scarce quickly, despite the reserve.

When I lived in Uganda, I had wrote a post questioning our idea of luxury. In this post, I made a list of things that we so often take for granted in North America. It's funny how quickly we can adjust to our surroundings. At the time of that post, we had not had water for 9 days. Here, 3 days without water results in a slight panic attack, and leaves me wondering how our house in Uganda managed without water for the time that it did.
                               
So, like I said earlier, some days are harder than others. Some days you come home to find strange men on your compound, building bricks, without your knowledge or approval. Some days you want to lash out at everyone in sight because you are tired of the incessant stares and mutterings about the "muzungu" (Swahili for a white person, foreigner, etc.).  Some days you want to cry because you have had a child throw a rock at you. Some days you just want to go home because you don't feel like you belong.

As painful and frustrating as some of these experiences living here have been, there are some days that are easier than others too. Every day I am taken aback by the beauty of nature around me; the hills, the trees, the sky. Other days, I am greeted, "Good Morning!" (without malice) by a group or children, or some man helps me flag down a moto. Or, more recently, I am gifted cassava by my guard that he's grown from his land. These are the good days. These are the days that cancel out those other, not so welcoming, not so enjoyable, days. These are the days that make living here worthwhile.


I know my dreams of "fitting in" and being welcomed into a completely different culture are lofty, but I feel strongly that a place does exist where I would be accepted, despite the color of my skin or my ethnicity. In America, the struggle for equality was a long and drawn out one, but as much progress as we have made as a country, I wonder if we are just better at hiding our thoughts and opinions about "the other," whoever they may be.

There are too many barriers that keep people from accepting each other, whether it be race, gender, or status. We can fool ourselves and say that those things don't exist, that those things don't matter to us, but unfortunately, for many, they do. We've lived so long under these perceptions and stereotypes of people that we haven't even met, or haven't tried to know, that we don't know what to do when we encounter these situations. As cliche as it sounds, I want to see these barriers broken. I want to see people working together, hand in hand, despite their differences, for a common goal, for a common purpose, for the common good. Perhaps then, and only then, will we be able to see change happen the way that we've always envisioned it.  

Homecoming Thoughts from Afar

Photography by Mehves Konuk

I received a confirmation for my flight back home to America yesterday.

December still feels a long way away, but I am excited to return home (if only for a while) to reconnect with friends, family, and to simply enjoy the things I've missed while being overseas.

This morning I got a link for a blog post about the unavoidable question from friends and family of, "So, what did you accomplish, really?" upon arriving home from working overseas. The title of the post intrigued me, especially as I have already begun mentally preparing for my transition out of East Africa. Reading the post got me thinking about the first time I travled abroad for work, back in 2008, when my journey of international development really began. I remember going with such lofty expectations of the things I would be able to accomplish there, the lives that I could change, the impact I could make. Well, when the end of the year came, I was disheartened by the fact that I had not really met any of my goals - at least to the extent that I had hoped for. So what did I do? I decided to stay another year, hoping that an additional 12 months of overseas work would create some of the "success stories" that I so longed to bring home.

Needless to say, at the end of yet another year, there were no huge success stories, no life-changing events, no big accomplishments, that I was able to claim responsibility for. Did this mean that no good came out of my time spent abroad? No. Did this mean that lives were not impacted and changed from the interactions that we had? No. Did this mean I had wasted two years of my life? No.

What it did mean, however, and what it exposed, is that so often we get caught up in the big accomplishments that we fail to see the little accomplishments that actually do occur. The small, seemingly incidental, yet influential moments that are just the beginnings, or middles, of what is yet to come. If we - religious or not - live life believing that everything has a purpose, that everything that happens is meant to happen, then we cannot reject the "small" impacts that eventually culminate into the final product. If everything is connected, and every experience helps shape someone - or something - then everything we do indeed has meaning and contributes to ultimate change.

I have been working in East Africa for the past 15 months. As my time draws nearer to its end, I find myself involuntarily reflecting on all of the people and "things" that I have been a part of. The part of me that seeks achievement and longs for recognition searches high and low for anything that I can bring back home to talk about. After all, no one really wants to hear about the struggles and hardships of the year. Few people want to hear about the trial and error (especially the error) of activities and projects conducted. Yet, these are the very things from which change occurs. These are the very things from which we learn, and grow - the process - that ultimately helps reach the goals that we have set for others and ourselves. So why is it that we don't work harder to bring to light these parts of our work experience, regardless of where we work and what we do? Why is it that no one ever asks about the process, yet are so interested in knowing the outcome?

I cannot answer these questions in full. So, in the meantime, I can work to change my personal expectations and perspective about the work I do overseas. After my initial "unsuccessful" years abroad, I realized, and really learned to understand (perhaps even a little too late) that change is indeed a process. And, if we are unwilling to focus on and invest in the process, then we really shouldn't expect to get the results that we are looking for. Homecoming may always continue to be associated with an overwhelming number of questions about our activities and accomplishments, but we will always have the choice to fight the need for recognition, and to shed light on the journey and process, even if the results don't scream success.