The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing-wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."
~ Lewis Carroll

Two rivers run north in East Africa. There is the Blue Nile, the “Abbai” and the White Nile. Each spring the snow melts in the Ethiopian mountains and stream down to the Mediterranean. This is the Blue Nile. Annually it floods the river basin, shaping Egyptian’s agricultural practices from ancient time until modern time when a damn was built. The headwaters of the White Nile begin in the Great Lakes District. Certain Rwandan lakes feed this river. However the farthest source comes from Rwanda’s poor little, tumultuous neighbor, Burundi. The Rurubu River leaves Burundi and changes names. It becomes the Kagera River. The Kagera divides Rwanda and Tanzania before spilling north, into Lake Victoria. These muddy waters flow gently through Uganda and Sudan before joining forces with the Blue Nile near Khartoum.

I’ve enjoyed staying with Melissa these past few days. We can talk about anything and everything. She’ll start a quote and I’ll finish it. It’s a pleasant surprise to have this type of connection with the woman I’ll be working with so regularly for the next two months. She’s got lots of spark and spice (She says “tainted”. I say maybe. But there’s a certain depth to that if the tainting hasn’t taken away laughter entirely.) Every day, after a long day at the office, she comes home, flicks on the soft lights, selects the soundtrack for the night, pours herself a glass of wine and makes dinner. Sometimes she’ll go onto her porch and smoke something fancy. (That’s were our routines depart.) After dinner, Melissa sits and reads for a few hours. While I was there, we book-talked. She has the intellectual “show and tell” side of the book cabinet and the “children’s literature side”, which contained all the girly books I’m sometimes embarrassed to admit enjoying…like the Chronicles of Narnia, Fairy Tales, Anne of Green Gables series.

One of my favorite rabbit trails in our first dinner conversation was about security vs. pleasure. I don’t know if you are familiar with C. S. Lewis and his writings. Melissa and I quickly discovered that we are both huge admirers. We both love the way Lewis’ books can precipitate spontaneous laughter. One of Lewis’ more famous fictions is The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape is the head demon advising his nephew Wormwood, to subvert the soul of his man-charge. In the end…well I won’t ruin it for you. Back to security verses pleasure. Screwtape explains that they should try to make their man-charge yearn for security in straw-like things (money, a person, etc). If they succeed, their man will be either deluded or frustrated. God has not given man true security in things in this world because he wants man to trust in Him. Rather, God gives his men small pleasures along he way, to bring joy as men plod through a sometimes painful and uncertain life. If man got the security he wanted, he’d depend on that instead of God. Screwtape and Wormwood don’t have capacity to create pleasures – they can only subvert them - trying to turn the temporary pleasure into a security.

The next night we had a conversation about worship. Solemnpe is a Middle English word that doesn’t really have a modern child. The closest today’s words get would be second cousin “Solemnity”. Solemnpe sort of involves pomp (without the undertones of pompousness), awe, reverence, triumph (as in the Roman's triumphal processions) and celebration. There is a real richness in that word. It captures so many things that are/should characterize worship.

I observed that selfishness manifests itself differently, and that often proves true in relationship between man and woman. Melissa laughed and brought up an old quote I remember reading. I don’t believe in purgatory, but Lewis did. In fact, he said that one level of purgatory is a kitchen where everything is going wrong. Pots are bubbling over. Food is burning. Dishes are in chaos. To get beyond that level of purgatory, men are required to do something to solve the kitchen problem; woman are required to do nothing. I think that’s hilarious.

Begging. There is very little begging in Rwanda. Rwandan’s don’t like it. They don’t want their country to be like other countries in Africa were beggars are everywhere. I asked Matt if the children tried to beg from him. I’d run out to grab lunch two days ago. Walked one block there and one block back. Each time I had a different child attach itself to me for half the block, asking for money. He said they generally they don’t bother him; they bother me because I’m a sucker and a woman. Makes sense.

At Urwego, I sit in an office on the 3rd floor, with Tom (who manages the guest house where I am now staying) and Matt. Here are two pictures of my window view.

Each Monday and Friday morning the workday at Urwego begins with devotions. They are held in the Rwandan’s native tongue, Kinyarwanda. Mary (in HR) kindly translated the entire hour for me. They sing (singing with them is so great. No one got soul in her voice like a black lady. And I’m surrounded. It was beautiful.)

The bank also provides its employees with a Rwandan buffet lunch at 13:00 every day. Friday, I pulled together my little bit of courage and went down to join the faces that I met, but could barely remember. It was silly for me to be frightened. Everyone was courteous. I and Karimi, the branch manager (for Urwego’s Kigali branch) got our food and sat down at the same time. Karimi politely asked how I liked his country. I said it was beautiful. He replied that it is a much better country now. Then we dived into his stories. Karimi was Rwandan, but he grew up in the Congo/DRC. So, he has dual citizenship. His family’s land used to be in Rwanda, but the maps were re-drawn. So, now they were in the Congo. That part of the Congo is really tumultuous. The people erupt like the nearby volcanos.. Karimi hadn’t come to Rwanda until a year or so ago, after the genocide. He told me another story. One of his good friends had lost 6 family members during the genocide. Several years later someone wanted to meet Karimi’s friend. Now Karimi’s friend didn’t know this person at all, so he asked Karimi to come with him. Karimi did. When they met the man, he was cordial and then asked Karimi’s friend to forgive him. His friend was confused so this mystery man explained he was the man that had killed the 6 family members. He was very sorry and wanted to ask forgiveness. Karimi’s friend forgave him. Quick, Quiet. Simple. But so powerful as that hurt would be so deep. That is something gorgeous.

Learning to love is like learning to play the piano. First you learn to play by the rules. Then you learn to play by heart. That was one of last night’s discussion quotes. Melissa and I weren’t sure how it pertained to love, so I came up with this far-fetched theory to nicely slip the quote into a sense-ic-al definition box.