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Ben Koring |
The 40 minute jeep ride from downtown Kigali, the last 20 being on a nauseating dirt road, was only the start of a wild two week experience that changed my life forever. My Father, Julius, and I were driven to a small orphanage by Jotham, a lawyer and pastor who had founded the NGO, Hope for the Future, HOFF, an organization to get homeless boys off the streets and set them on a path for a better life. He took us to his three month old organization to determine whether It was a good fit for me to teach and spend time with the boys over the course of the next two weeks.
The little hut surrounded with banana trees and little rabbit cages, crammed with bunk beds and benches, just over five miles from Kigali, was quite intimidating the first time I saw it. I don’t know whether it was the thought of doing something I had never done before; teach children. I had never taught anyone anything before. I had never even been in charge of anything. I was now being put into a position where I was teaching Rwandan orphans in a different language. Or maybe my anxiety stemmed from being in the poorest place I had ever seen in my life. As I got out of the car, I noticed the dirt road running by was full of sullied, poverty-stricken children who had come out to see the commotion. Most were excited at the site of strangers in their remote neighborhood, especially two white ones. They waved nervously or called out bonjour or Mwaramutse, some even reached out their hands for a high-five or hugged our legs.
About an hour earlier I had been in an internet cafe eating a ham and cheese, and I now found myself in a place where even the most basic needs were hardly achieved. Jotham took the three of us past these children and through the shard of metal that stood as a gate of the orphanage. As we entered the main room of the house, which served as the classroom and the dining room, we were greeted by 24 boys, aged from 8-17, who stood up and said “Good Morning.” We went through the limited English pleasantries that they knew and were then introduced to Jean, the teacher of all subjects and supervisor of the orphanage. He knew English very well and translated all of the boys questions and our answers. After a short tour around the property and being introduced to the two permanent caretakers, Jean and David, the boys asked me to play soccer with them.
We made our way to a clearing down the street with makeshift goals made of pieces of wood at either end. Surprisingly, the orphanage owned a real soccer ball. It was very old and beaten up but better than the typical ball made by compressing trash with rubber bands into a sphere. As we began to play the initial nerves slipped away. We returned to Kigali after a quick match, my mind was decided. I wanted to take this job on. It would be hard but the rewards would surely outweigh the difficulties.
Every weekday up until I left Rwanda I worked at the orphanage from 9-3. It was hardly what I could call a job because it was so much fun for me. I taught the boys English for about an hour and a half every morning. A task made much easier than I had originally expected because of Jean’s translation and the kids enthusiasm to participate. Some boys were better than others at memorizing and some were better at pronunciation, but all were just as eager to learn as the next. These boys knew that the one light path out of their troubled past was an education. No one made the boys stay at the orphanage and they were never graded for their schoolwork yet every day I was welcomed with a fervent drive to participate and contribute throughout class.
Soccer came next. I would flip a coin to see if I would be playing with either the Kangaroos or the Lions. Many kids from around the area would come to watch the game. Even bikers and workers carrying huge loads of wood or bananas would stop to see the game. The matches were very competitive but there was never an altercation between the boys.
After the game, the schedule of the day was a bit more relaxed. The group split up to do several different things. I would sometimes play mini games like marbles or cards in the front yard of the house or look over a picture book translating different object names. Meanwhile, one lucky boy would have my camera for the day. The others would line up to have their picture taken of them pulling of a soccer move or of them in a karate pose. Each day a selection of boys would assist the caretakers prepare lunch for everyone else. This free time lasted about half an hour before we ate.
Lunch consisted of the same thing every day. A huge block of maize with a side bowl of beans with sauce. It was eaten by ripping of a piece of maize with your fingers and dipping or scooping up some beans and sauce as there was no silverware. It wasn’t exactly gourmet but it filled me up, the only problem was the beans were burning hot and I often would leave lunch nursing burnt fingers. After lunch, Jean would call a moto to come and pick me up. I would spend the waiting time packing up and saying my goodbyes.
The bond I developed with the boys and Jean over the course of my two weeks of teaching was very strong and it was hard to leave the final day. As I sat on the moto, driving down the dirt road away from the house I realized that it wasn’t really the end of a job, but the beginning of a relationship that I intend to continue even after returning home.
The time I spent in Rwanda was relatively short but the impression my trip had on me will last a lifetime. hopefully the 24 orphans life’s, whose lives have seen so much dismay, have been changed as well. I am confident that my time at the orphanage was a positive experience for everyone involved, and many good things can be taken away from it, by both me, the kids, and the HOFF organization.
