Elyse, an orphan of the 1994 genocide and a U.S. embassy nurse, is part of a new generation of women driving through traditional gender roles. Find out why she’s famous for being unlike any other female in Rwanda.
Previous Wepisodes of Degrees of Separation
Introducing Degrees of Separation A multimedia blog that follows around a chain of Rwandans’ connections. From motodrivers to genocide survivors, Degrees of Separation dives into the lives of locals in Kigali to show viewers what Rwanda is like now. It’s a window into the present, rather than a spotlight on the past.
1st Degree: Laura A Rwandan mother of two, returns her homeland for the first time in over a decade. She left to study in Moscow four years after the genocide. Find out what she thinks of Kigali, her hometown she once knew so well.
2nd Degree: Theogene A young houseboy turned motodriver hits a roadblock in his life. The death of someone he depends on is about to change everything.
3rd Degree: Adrien Hop into convenience store culture in Rwanda. A boutique owner, takes you inside his Kigali store. From his best selling items to his tricks for success, peek into his daily life.
4th Degree: Eugene A U.S. Embassy worker and genocide survivor escapes his past in the pool. He talks about forgiveness and moving on.
Eugene, a U.S. Embassy worker and genocide survivor escapes his past in the pool in this webisode of Degrees of Separation.
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5th Degree: Elyse
An orphan of the 1994 genocide and a U.S. embassy nurse, is part of a new generation of women driving through traditional gender roles. Find out why she’s famous for being unlike any other female in Rwanda.
Hop into convenience store culture in Rwanda. Adrien, a boutique owner, takes you inside his Kigali store. From his best selling items to his tricks for success, peek into his daily life in this webisode of Degrees of Separation.
Theogene, a young houseboy turned motodriver hits a roadblock in his life. The death of someone he depends on is about to change everything. Watch this webisode of Degrees of Separation to find out more.
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3rd Degree: Adrien Hop into convenience store culture in Rwanda. A boutique owner, takes you inside his Kigali store. From his best selling items to his tricks for success, peek into his daily life.
It’s early afternoon, the sun’s shining and the patio at Bourbon, the Starbucks of Kigali, is swelling with expats and tourists. The visiting business men dipped in black suits sit in the corner discussing banking, the young blonde boasts about holding up English flash cards at elementary schools, and waiters buzz around practicing their best English while handing out lemon-flavoured Fantas.
Meanwhile, the blue upload bar is slugging across my computer screen at the same rate it takes to VIA Rail across Canada. About three days and 300 thoughts surrounding why didn’t I take a faster route?
While my eyes are determined to figure out if the bar has budged from 29 percent to 29.3 percent in the last half hour, I’m inconspicuously all ears. But never, in my wildest eavesdropping fantasies could I have dreamt this one up.
It was a head turner. I lost my intense, look-like-I’m-emailing-someone-important cover. The mouth opened, eye’s widened and I stared. I stared like Rwandans stare at me. It was endless, awkward and I got caught…and then I got caught again.
It seems Rwandans aren’t huge fans of cameras, microphones or just about any recording devices. Some actually run. Hence Exhibit A below, taken yesterday while filming Degrees of Separation.
So what happens next is like finding an oasis in a dessert. This woman is thrilled I’m intrigued by her accent and want an interview. From her fascination with money to her thoughts on motos, you won’t want to miss listening to her candid impression of Rwanda.
Meet Michelle, an American from Missouri who’s here on business in Kigali for a month. She’s eating lunch with a colleague and zipped-up in a sweater featuring London’s famous clock tower Big Ben. The background on one side is red and the other striped vertically blue. So, with no further adieu here are the segments.
There are times in life when you have to stop, give your head a shake, and ask yourself “Is this really happening.” My night at a pastor’s house was this moment in a nutshell.
I was on a mad hunt for Photoshop, a computer program I desperately needed to start editing multimedia projects. Of course, buying and loading this software at home would’ve been smart. But hey, who doesn’t love a challenge?
So here I am, in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital where you can find an individually packaged pair of men’s underwear dangling from the wall of just about every convenience store. But finding Photoshop is harder to spot than a giraffe roadside on Hwy. 401.
Forty-eight hours pass and I’ve tried everything. The online purchase fell through when the power went off and cancelled my download. It wasn’t stocked at stores coated in advertisements for low-priced computers. And the ancient duck-taped-together laptop at the house screamed and shutdown each time Photoshop loaded.
But with a little persistence, eventually I found the goods.
And I found it, a 15-minute moto drive away, behind a set of mauve steel gates, through the front doors of a mansion and in the bedroom…of a pastor.
“Ashley take a seat,” the pastor says firmly shaking my hand. “I just finished burning the CD, but I want to make sure it loads.”
I sink into the plush living-room couch as his voice trails off into his bedroom. The house is huge. From the outside, it’s got that Fresh Prince of Bel-Air pillar look going on and a pair of Golden Retrievers rest in a cage at the front gate.
Inside, I’m staring at a parrot whose refusing to repeat what I say.
“Polly want a cracker?” Common, “Polly want a cracker?”
“Guten Tag,” a tall, German man says, appearing from around the corner and thus catching me in the act of my parrot play. He explains that he’s here helping the congregation with his son for a few months.
As you can tell by now, I’m not sitting in just any pastor’s house. He does run four churches scattered around the city and indeed peppers his conversation with word-for-word passages ripped from the bible. But this pastor is an American expat from Arizona who I swear is on a pilgrimage to become the Richard Branson of Rwanda.
His business card is more jam packed than the buses here, which I should mention even stuff livestock under the seats. In size-4 font, the card includes the following:
- Importing Apple products
- Selling 10-liter water filters
- Running IT Computer Solutions
- Renting cell phones
On top of all this, he’s the director of a huge fellowship church in Kigali and runs a language centre that teaches Rwandans how to speak English through a combination of computer programs and church hymns.
At this point, the pastor, a middle-aged man, is sitting next to me wearing a red T-shirt and casual khakis with my computer resting on his lap. When I ask about the reason behind the countless side projects his answer is simple, “I went to business school.”
Suddenly, a group of giggling Rwandan girls show up at the door dressed in crisp white blouses and blue ties. Like a steady stream they head through the living room, past the kitchen and disappear into the back.
“My friend also needs Microsoft Word. Do you have it, by any chance?” I ask. “Sure do, one second,” he says wandering off to his room again.
I tiptoe into the back, through the Bowflex gym, over the barbells and into the laundry room. Now this is where the bona fide ’stopping, head shaking, and asking myself “Is this really happening?” moment’ takes place. It’s truly a journalistic gift from god.
I dip my hand into my bag and start pulling out items like I’m Mary Poppins. Still camera, video camera, recorder, microphone, oh no where’s my tripod?
“OK girls, now I want you to pick up your iron in one hand, spray starch in the other and look into the camera,” the pastor’s wife says enthusiastically. “Then say your name and that you look forward to coming to their home and ironing their clothes.”
The tall German is standing next to me aiming a small hand-held camera at the scene. There are three ironing boards lined-up one in front of the other and a handful of girls taking turns de-wrinkling a crumpled pile of shirts from a laundry basket on the floor.
They’re filming a commercial. An ironing commercial.
It’s the latest business venture of the pastor’s wife. A company called “Iron Ladies,” employed with strong women who have been through a lot in life. Many are single mothers, but all are members of their church.
Unfortunately at business school, commercial creation wasn’t offered as a course. The sun sets at 6 p.m. and we’re standing in a dingy laundry room, so it’s dark as night. The camera is bopping around and out of focus. And my miraculously appearing production-company spread signals I know a thing or two about filming. Next thing you know, I’m helping duck tape a light to a trolley, setting up a tripod and framing the German’s camera.
An Iron Lady stumbles on her lines during the shoot.
The pastor's wife coaches the girls while the German films.
The Iron Ladies stand together for the closing shot.
I take some shots of my own and then head towards the gates feeling like I’ve done my good deed for the day. Suddenly I hear the pastor behind me, he hands me his business card and says “Tell your friends, if they want to buy an Iphone to give me a call.”
Laura, a Rwandan mother of two, returns to Rwanda for the first time in over a decade. She left to study in Moscow four years after the genocide. Find out what she thinks of Kigali, her hometown that she once knew so well, in this webisode of Degrees of Separation.
Next Webisode
2nd Degree: Theogene A young houseboy turned motodriver hits a roadblock in his life. The death of someone he depends on is about to change everything.
A multimedia blog that follows around a chain of Rwandans’ connections. From motodrivers to genocide survivors, Degrees of Separation dives into the lives of locals in Kigali to show viewers what Rwanda is like now. It’s a window into the present, rather than a spotlight on the past.
Next Webisode
1st Degree: Laura
A Rwandan mother of two, returns to Rwanda for the first time in over a decade. She left to study in Moscow four years after the genocide. Find out what she thinks of Kigali, her hometown that she once knew so well.
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