slumber party, street boys, and getting ready to leave..

(Nsabiri and I during our "slumber party")

A few nights ago, I was walking away from hanging out with my street boys when Nsabiri, the smallest one at 5 years old (although they’re unsure because they don’t know his birthday), called out to me from behind. He continued to follow me in the dark repeating over and over again that he was hungry. He had looked sad that whole day with big tears ready to flow from his little eyes. While we sat and shared a tortilla together in a nearby market, his deep eyes welled up again and he kept begging me to take him home with me because he didn’t want to sleep in the sewer gutter. I had no idea what to do as I obviously don’t have a home of my own here so we just sat down on the curb together. With him in my lap and with my arms wrapped tightly around him, I whispered to him that I loved him and he began to cry. At first it was ever so soft, but within a couple minutes, he was sobbing. It’s unusual for people in this culture to cry in front of others and it was the first that I have really seen someone bawling in public and it broke my heart. There we sat on the curb under the dark sky crying together with his tiny body shaking under my arms. I couldn’t walk away from my beloved friend so I found myself, to my surprise, calling pastor to ask if Nsabiri could come home with me. She surprisingly agreed and I took him home to his absolute delight. We washed his clothes and his dirty body, including his round belly that sticks out from poverty and malnourishment. After a meal together, in which it was obvious he didn’t know how to eat at a table or use utensils, we went to bed. He was so excited that he had a hard time going to sleep so we stayed up coloring for a while and taking pictures and soon he began to doze off. Seeing him in my bed was absolutely beautiful. It’s ironic because I’ve always said that I don’t really like children but they have absolutely stolen my heart here.

Some of the people around town have started calling me mom and recognize me all over the place as the one who is always surrounded by the street boys. The other day two of them fell asleep in my arms and I sat there with their heads leaning against me, wondering how in the world I’m going to leave them behind later this week.  I would give almost anything to take them home with me.

One of the boys has marks all down his arms that look like cigarette burns. With my limited language skills, I asked him what they were and he replied, “mama and papa.” It’s difficult to understand how such injustice can occur in our world, especially to innocent children. It’s a reality hard to swallow and I want to do all I can to be with these children who are in desperate need for love.

I also got the chance to hear my student and friend Eric’s testimony recently. He has one of the craziest stories I’ve ever heard. Like I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs, he is the eldest of ten siblings. His parents both left them when he was young and after the genocide, he was forced to come alone to Kigali from their village to try and find work at the young age of 11. After moving around from house to house doing odd jobs, he found himself living on the street and began drinking and doing drugs. He didn’t become a Christian until a year ago but before he knew God, God saved him many times. During the genocide, a man ran after him with a knife and cut his head open, spilling part of his brain onto the ground. His head still bears the scars of this incident today but he survived. He also fell into a 100-meter hole and was rescued miraculously by a man with a rope that was just long enough to reach him. Lastly, he was fishing a few years ago and ended up getting swept away by the river, where he drowned. His body was carried all the way to Burundi by the current where local fishermen found him. They were preparing to cremate him after 3 days of him being dead when he suddenly woke up laughing, asking for a fire because he was cold. He said he remembers being separated from life by a river that kept him on the side of the dead. Then the most handsome man he’s ever seen pushed him up onto the side of life and that’s when he woke up from the dead. He says that he now spends his life working for God and that even though his mother and father have forsaken their family, that God is his parent.

THANK YOU to all of you who have been emailing me about sponsoring children. I went to see Veterine and his family a few days ago and began telling him that there are people in America that want to sponsor him. He sadly explained that he couldn’t go to school because he’s the head of the household at the age of 12 years old and that he needs to provide for his family. After explaining that I was finding people to sponsor all of his brothers and sisters, his face lit up immediately at the thought of him being able to go to school!! I am waiting to hear back from Compassion International and will let all of those interested know as soon as I hear anything. Pray, pray, pray for this door to open. Also, if this works, we will still need 2-3 more sponsors.

My students are getting sad that I’m leaving. We sat hanging out on Monday after class and they were telling me how much they’re going to miss me.. especially now because they no longer see me as a “muzungu” (white person), but as a fellow Rwandan, and as their friend. While I am so sad at the thought of leaving, I have a very strong feeling that I am going to be back here some day and will see them again soon.

Lastly, I have been sick the past week or so. I went to the doctor yesterday after two sleepless nights of the most pain I’ve ever felt in my stomach. I went to the doctor yesterday though and after taking the first round of medication for parasites, I feel much better.. Amen!

That’s all for now. I’m not sure I’ll have time to come to the internet again while in Africa so I’ll update again from France! Bon Voyage

Megan