Nothing special here?

Thursday was my last evening in Butare, and I had a little time to explore. I walked along a dirt path that snaked downhill from the Hotel Credo toward a lush green valley. The late afternoon sun highlighted the tassels atop corn stalks, waving in a quiet breeze. Below, neat plots of trees, food crops and sunflowers spread along terraces stairstepped down the steep hill. Three kids looked wide eyed at me and one stopped, pointing to my camera. I held it up for them to pose. The kids here seem to like having their picture taken, and always giggle when they see the result on the LCD screen. As we were admiring their picture, a young man came along and tried to shoo them away in Kinyarwanda. I told him it was okay, I was making friends. The kids ran off so I got to make friends with him too.
His name is John. He pointed to his small house, probably two rooms, with a tin roof and likely no plumbing, clinging to this picturesque hillside with its lush vegetation. He and his friends were hauling wood furniture up the path and toward the main road, presumably taking it to town for sale. He is studying economics at the National University at Butare and has that Rwandan knack for hospitality that I have come to love in these last few weeks.
John asked me why I was taking pictures. I told him that the scene was very beautiful and he looked surprised. He said "here there is nothing special." If only we could see our familiar surroundings with the eyes of a visitor...
Friday afternoon I came back to Kigali in the company of two anesthesia residents and an orthopedic resident named Justin. Justin told me he had worked two years in district hospitals before starting his training in Orthopedics. The first position was in a setting where he worked with an experienced surgeon and learned a lot. The second position was in a different hospital where he was the only doctor, period. He said "it can be overwhelming sometimes, when five patients arrive at once from a road traffic accident and you aren't even sure what is wrong with them." He is halfway through his training, and told me "I just want to finish, to know how to save lives and to be successful." Not a bad ambition! While we drove along, the three young doctors pointed out an orphanage, an agricultural research station, a shelter for disabled people, and the "birthplace of our most excellent President Mr. Kagame." They commented on the harsh lives of poor Rwandans, especially women, and spoke about the need for family planning. They explained to me the meaning of an incomprehensible cassette tape chanting the myth of the Rwandan king's exploits in what they call the "ancient time." They insisted that I place my heavy suitcase with computer and books in their laps during the two hour ride because if I put it in the back of the pickup, it might be stolen.
The scenery around Rwanda, to the small extent I have been out of Kigali, is wonderful. Banana trees, coffee, steep eroded hills, cattle, people carrying loads of sticks or pineapples or ceramic pots on their heads, and always the volcanoes in the background. There are many risks in life here, from bicycle vs. car accidents to filthy drinking water to operating rooms without defibrillators. In spite of these challenges the Rwandans I have met have opened their hearts to me and have captured mine. The people here, as well as the scenery are, in fact, something very special.