"Take my hand"

I have just had a jaw dropping experience, and now that the power is back on I can blog about it!!

The story begins at the "supermarket" about a forty minute walk from the guesthouse. I needed to stock up on food, and although I knew it would probably be dark by the time I finished, I set out this afternoon to get groceries. After choosing my items, I got in line and a woman appeared in front of me with a complex transaction. The store is a cross between WalMart and Fred Meyer, with appliances, furniture, and TVs as well as food. The largest denomination of Rwandan francs printed apparently is a 5000 franc note, which is about the equivalent of $8.00 U.S. The woman in front of me was counting out endless stacks of these notes, and the checker was recounting them, etc. etc. She must have been buying bedroom furniture or something.
After watching this action for a very long time, and seeing that progress was not being made, I put my things back in the cart and headed for another checkout line. A store employee saw me and took pity on me, opening another cash register and ushering me to the front of a line that formed quickly as he opened. There was an angry exchange between two locals and the store employee, during which the word "Mzungu" was frequently featured. This is the word for a white person.
My finely sharpened sense of defensiveness immediately arose. I was being misjudged, and I didn't like it. I didn't stop to ask myself how many times I've misjudged someone else, especially someone from another culture. No, I just wanted to set the record straight. After some very unpleasant glaring, I took my purchases and headed out the door, into the darkness.
This was the first time I didn't feel welcomed and accepted in Rwanda. I'm sure it had to happen eventually, but it was painful. My spirit was as heavy as my backpack of groceries as I picked my way along the "sidewalk," dodging cars backing out of driveways and motor scooters roaring along on the wrong side of the road. I had forgotten my flashlight and the streetlights weren't working due to a power outage, so I had to navigate by the light of those threatening cars and an almost full moon.
I was halfway home when I heard a voice to my right say "you're walking alone in the dark and you're not afraid?" I looked up to see a tall young man, white teeth shining in the moonlight. His English was quite good, and as we walked we chatted about our lives & what I was doing here. When I asked him where he was going, he replied "Nyamirambo," which is where the guest house is located. So I had a walking companion.
His name is Giovanni, and he is a student at KIST, the Kigali Institute of Science and Technology. He is studying civil engineering, still in his first of four years. He told me he has three dreams: He wants to be an engineer, to become a photographer and travel, and then after he has traveled he wants to settle down and have an orphanage. He wants to help people.
He is the oldest of four boys, who live with their mother in the neighborhood somewhere near here. She works, but as Giovanni says, it is difficult to feed four boys. He proudly showed me a book he had just bought, about do-it-yourself home repairs. He thinks maybe he can pick up some jobs to help with the home and school expenses if he learns how to fix things.
We came to a portion of the walkway which is badly broken up, with a three foot drop into an open sewer if you misstep. I told him I didn't like this part, but he laughed and said "I can walk here with my eyes closed. Take my hand." My defensiveness had melted by this time, and I was entirely comfortable. So, I ended up walking hand in hand with this young student!
How many of us would take a strange Rwandan by the hand and help him home? How many times have I withheld mercy because I could justify it to myself? These are some of the questions whirling in my head after this evening.
Doug and I have commented to each other about how the culture here seems to revolve around groups. Everything is done together. We see Rwandans walking hand in hand, or arms draped around each other. The anesthesia residents were shocked when they learned that in America anesthesiologists practice alone. They actually thought such practice was illegal! I have a lot to learn from these people about relationships.
When I got home, Giovanni and I exchanged emails. We both agreed that the world is a far better place because of the connections we can make via the internet. I will stay in touch with this young man, and I expect him to be a fine engineer. I am learning that one of my roles as an "older" person is to encourage the dreams of the young people I am meeting. Another role I intend to increase when I get home is to provide hospitality, hopefully as wonderfully as it has been provided to me in Rwanda.