20 September 2005
Well that was kind of a waste.
The first part of my trip to Burundi took me to Butare, in Rwanda’s southeast. It’s Rwanda’s second city and the home of the National University. It’s a sleepy little town, even with all of the students – there are over eight thousand of them.
I was supposed to interview refugees as they prepared to head back to Burundi early Tuesday morning, and take a visit to the Rwandan grand seminary to do a story on training priests for conflict resolution. Neither of those happened.
I got off the bus, and as I waited for my friend Igor called UNHCR. They had cancelled the convoy for this week because they were finishing off their census of refugees. Mind you, some of these people had been there for about two years, and UNHCR was now just figuring out that there were some people who kept coming back to get the repatriation supplies – three months worth of food and other goodies. The people who are doing this are dirt poor and probably didn’t have three months worth of food to begin with, so I hardly blame them. But the UN, as always, has proven to be a model of efficiency.
So, long story short, I got an interview with the head of UNHCR operations in Butare and discovered the situation in Burundi was not as dire as the refugees claimed. None could point to any particular violence or threats, but in an uneducated population where there is a long and storied history of violence, it would be foolish on the refugees’ and the UN’s part not to take the rumors seriously.
And then there was the seminary. Igor tried for over a week to get this set up, and they kept saying to call back. Finally, the priests and the rectors didn’t answer the phone. The seminary is 10 km outside of Butare, and Igor doesn’t have a car. We decided to chalk it up to a loss rather than get kicked off the property. I know, I don’t usually admit defeat that fast, but the shoestring has already lost the little plastic thing at the end and is starting to wear thin. With my trip to Burundi coming up tomorrow, and DaMN not picking up the expenses, I have to go with things I know are going to happen.
The trip wasn’t a total loss, though. I had a good time with Igor and laid the groundwork for two or three more stories. I’m not telling what they are, because I want to keep you guys guessing. I also discovered that Johnny Cash is the perfect music for rolling through the dusty old-West villages of rural Rwanda on a bus. And I had a transcendent moment when the U2 song “Where the Streets Have No Name” reached its full-throated melody and the bus reached the top of Rwanda, seemingly the top of the world. The sun’s rays illuminated small patches of green mountains, and it felt like I was flying.
Of course, the guy sleeping next to me then decided he needed to spread his legs as wide as they go and stretch. I’ll always have that moment though.
By the way, here's the link to Rebecca's photo page. www.flickr.com/photos/rstich She's quite the shuttterbug.
Well that was kind of a waste.
The first part of my trip to Burundi took me to Butare, in Rwanda’s southeast. It’s Rwanda’s second city and the home of the National University. It’s a sleepy little town, even with all of the students – there are over eight thousand of them.
I was supposed to interview refugees as they prepared to head back to Burundi early Tuesday morning, and take a visit to the Rwandan grand seminary to do a story on training priests for conflict resolution. Neither of those happened.
I got off the bus, and as I waited for my friend Igor called UNHCR. They had cancelled the convoy for this week because they were finishing off their census of refugees. Mind you, some of these people had been there for about two years, and UNHCR was now just figuring out that there were some people who kept coming back to get the repatriation supplies – three months worth of food and other goodies. The people who are doing this are dirt poor and probably didn’t have three months worth of food to begin with, so I hardly blame them. But the UN, as always, has proven to be a model of efficiency.
So, long story short, I got an interview with the head of UNHCR operations in Butare and discovered the situation in Burundi was not as dire as the refugees claimed. None could point to any particular violence or threats, but in an uneducated population where there is a long and storied history of violence, it would be foolish on the refugees’ and the UN’s part not to take the rumors seriously.
And then there was the seminary. Igor tried for over a week to get this set up, and they kept saying to call back. Finally, the priests and the rectors didn’t answer the phone. The seminary is 10 km outside of Butare, and Igor doesn’t have a car. We decided to chalk it up to a loss rather than get kicked off the property. I know, I don’t usually admit defeat that fast, but the shoestring has already lost the little plastic thing at the end and is starting to wear thin. With my trip to Burundi coming up tomorrow, and DaMN not picking up the expenses, I have to go with things I know are going to happen.
The trip wasn’t a total loss, though. I had a good time with Igor and laid the groundwork for two or three more stories. I’m not telling what they are, because I want to keep you guys guessing. I also discovered that Johnny Cash is the perfect music for rolling through the dusty old-West villages of rural Rwanda on a bus. And I had a transcendent moment when the U2 song “Where the Streets Have No Name” reached its full-throated melody and the bus reached the top of Rwanda, seemingly the top of the world. The sun’s rays illuminated small patches of green mountains, and it felt like I was flying.
Of course, the guy sleeping next to me then decided he needed to spread his legs as wide as they go and stretch. I’ll always have that moment though.
By the way, here's the link to Rebecca's photo page. www.flickr.com/photos/rstich She's quite the shuttterbug.
posted by Evan Weinberger at 6:30 AM
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