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It was a quiet and powerful reminder to me of the way so many of the people live, in tiny mud huts with a bit of a garden, perhaps a goat, and very little water (they can seldom wash themselves or their clothes). It may seem picturesque, but it is really squalid. In the city of Kigali, it is easy to get lulled into the idea that things are ok in Rwanda. It’s neat, clean, with many modern and attractive buildings, and ICT growing ever more prevalent and complex. Water flows from taps (if people have taps), at least most of the time, and electricity is available, if people are connected to it and have money to buy it. In Kigali, if you don’t look beyond the boulevards, you wouldn’t know you were in a developing country. But in the village, all goes on very much as it always has, only in many ways worse because the genocide has taken such a huge toll—on homes, livestock, fields, families, neighborliness—and it’s important for me to keep that in view.
Jean McAlister
Missionary, living in Kigali, Rwanda
May 2010 Part 2

With the kind assistance of a church member I have been helping Martin, 16, for the last few years to get medical treatment for a badly diseased leg. He is now much improved, but after a period of mingling with bad company in Kigali and not doing well in school, he made the decision to live with his grandmother in the village and attend school there. I recently had the opportunity to drive out to his village for a visit, along with the Pastor and his wife who have been parenting him in Kigali for many years. We were warmly welcomed in typical Rwandan style by his grandmother. Seating was found for all of us in the tiny entry/sitting room/bedroom/closet–including Martin’s father, who lives in much poverty nearby, and a neighbor or two. A sorghum drink was brought for the Rwandese (they knew I wouldn’t like it), and Martin cut up a very sweet pineapple from their garden to share out, after offering a bit of water to pour over our hands before eating. Martin had been given a couple of rabbits, which have multiplied nicely, and will provide a bit of income so he can buy some clothing. Though shy, he was happy to see us.
Jean McAlister
Missionary
May 2010 Part 1

I have, as a gift from God, a love-burden for the people and country of Rwanda. The burden is growing stronger—I almost said heavier, but that would be too much emphasis on me; I need to remind myself that Jesus is carrying the major portion of it alongside me. “The LORD hath laid on him the iniquity [and grief] of us all.

I don’t understand at all “the problem of pain,” to use C.S. Lewis’ phrase. I can only somehow be present and bear witness to it, calling out to God, as David did so long ago, “Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?” But also affirm with David, “O LORD, you will hear the desire of the meek, you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.” (Ps. 10:1, 17,18) AMEN, may it be so! 

Jean McAllister in Kigali

I look out from my wide porch upon the view of green valleys and clusters of houses on the hillside, interspersed with terraced fields, and am deeply touched by the beauty of this country, and it makes me weep! I think of Jesus, and about what Isaiah wrote about him centuries before he lived on earth:

Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:4-6, KJV, emphasis mine)

I hear in my mind the portion of Handel’s Messiah where these words have been set to music, while in my living room Sam and his cousin Enias are watching Rwanda TV’s broadcasts of mourning songs, griefs recounted by survivors, and soon, the ceremonies from the national stadium, called Amahoro, which means peace. I am trying to make a space for these young men, and am happy that Enias came to keep Sam company. I served them coffee, in hopes of giving them a little break from the non-stop grieving pouring out of the TV. I wonder, as I do each year, how these images and stories help people to bear and transcend their grief, or if they only cause the wounds to re-open, without end.

Jean McAlister
Missionary

I have been weeping off and on all morning. I went out to greet Sam, the young man who works for me, whose father was imprisoned for 12 years having been falsely accused right after the genocide. This man, whose name is Canaan, had not only not been complicit in any killings, but had managed to help some 17 of his Tutsi neighbors to escape by boat on Lake Kivu, and all reached Congo safely. So I weep for Canaan, and for Sam, who saw his father beaten so badly that bones were broken. They were never healed properly, and now, at home, he is weak and sickly. As I said good morning to Sam, and tried to convey some sort of comfort, I started to weep, and just embraced him, somewhat awkwardly, surely taking him by surprise.
Jean McAlister
Missionary

I fed the small kitten I am taking care of for a few weeks, then sat with him and my journal and Bible to read and pray. At first, the kitten was urgently seeking my attention, needing to leap and scratch and bite. I kept gentling it with stroking and little sharp taps on its nose when it bit, and eventually it settled a little, but was still fairly distracting. However, when I started to weep and pray for Rwanda, the kitten was perfectly still, and stayed still in my lap.
Jean McAlister
Missionary

April 7

This day Rwandese observe a nationwide official day of mourning and commemoration, remembering the same date in 1994 when so many people were killed by their neighbors, friends, church members and even families. The date is one, unfortunately like many others, that will “live in infamy” as President Roosevelt said of the date Pearl Harbor was bombed by the Japanese. I feel somehow moved to write today. It is sixteen years since the terrors and horrors of the genocide happened, and for most Rwandese, the memory is as painful and bitter as ever—perhaps for some, even more so. Memory has a way of building up a kind of reservoir of feelings and perceptions that can pile upon each other press down, and become compacted into something distinct from the events that underlie them. I am pondering all this morning.
Jean McAlister
Missionary

Hi all,
The guest house is now complete!! 
Attached are a couple of recent pictures of the completed building and a few of the residents of the village of Tong Neak. The building is now fully paid for and came in on budget. The guest house will be managed by Uon Seila and the village elders. Uon Seila is the head of the EFC KEY youth organization and he comes from this village.  He is the fourth adult from the left. In 1971 he saw the bombs fall on his village. Now he smiles as the guest house is built on top of one of the bomb craters. The goal is that this building will become a house of healing, a place for short term medical and dental teams to visit this forgotten area of Cambodia.
 
Thank you everyone for all your generosity. You made this happen!
 
We are now looking for doctors, dentists and ESL teachers who would like to take a vacation they will never forget; only a few hours from Phnom Penh. Don’t miss the chance! Just think! The third picture might be the view from your front door!
 
Thank you! Thank you!
Ray for CUSP,
PS: If you want more information contact Carol Korpi email Ray, reldurr@msn.com.
(Editor’s Note: Ray Durr is the founder of the Cambodian University Scholarship Program (CUSP).

I am thankful for good health, no further trouble with mystery headaches!  Also am continuing to progress in Kinyarwanda, should be fluent any time in the next 5 years!!  It IS hard, but I continue to learn, which is God’s grace.

Much love and thanks to all of you, and may God richly bless you!

 Jean

My house continues to challenge me.  It’s WAY too big for me, and I am now wondering why I decided to come here.  I am hoping for a roommate to share with me, but meanwhile I feel embarrassed and lonely.  Embarrassed when Rwandese friends come and see where I live, and alone.  I should have foreseen this, but was perhaps blinded by my own desires and pride.  Now I am praying for wisdom.  I may seek another place if I haven’t found a roommate by December.  (Meanwhile, the rain softened the mud and brick wall at the back and it tumbled down, exposing me to my neighbor and vice versa.  Negotiations are not yet happening between the owners, and so I’m stuck in the middle, feeling very exposed!)  BUT, I do have a wonderful view from my spacious porch!  And it is very quiet, with no traffic. . .

Jean McAlister