Elizabeth Bakes...

Desserts baked and decorated by Elizabeth Dorr

My Nursery Babies

Some of the babies from Nursery Middle Class, 

They're right next door to my class and I pretty much am in LOVE with them. 

My after school CREW! We hang out everyday after school for an hour and a half

(L-R Ernie, Charmant, Kuku, Daniel, Gady & Joyeuse)

My dudes! (L-R Ernie, Daniel, Charmant & Gady)

This, is Rugamba. He's in Nursery Middle Class (which his mommy teaches!) His smile melts my heart, his personality is adorable and his hugs are to die for, 

when this little man comes tearing down the hill towards you there's not much you can do but love him.

Some of my after school gang with Nursery Middle Class' after school gang. 

We pretty much all hang out together when schools over.

Rashidi and the 17-Year-Old Second Grader

Rashidi, he's the tallest boy in class, almost twice as big as the smaller ones. The worst thing he's ever done is talk during class. He doesn't hit others, he doesn't ask every five seconds to go out and use the toilet, he listens and he's SMART! He's a quite boy but heavily admired by his peers and it's so obvious. Today, Rashidi's dad made a guest appearance at school around noon. There was a noticeable ruckus outside of our room but it wasn't clear what was going on until the headmaster called us outside to talk. With no introduction to the strange man standing at his side, the guest clearly stated, "I just want to see my son." The headmaster then explained, this man claims to be Rashidi's father, he says Rashidi's mother had left with their children with no information left to him as to where they were going. He said she's turned her phone off and disappeared, and he just wants to see his children, so the only thing he knew to do was to come find them where he knows they attend school. 

We called Rashidi out and asked him, "Do you know this man?" we were completely confused, and so was Rashidi. Rashidi looked at us almost emotionless and said, "He's my dad."

Rashidi's father then informed us that he wanted to leave with his son, so Rashidi could show him their new location. My heart hurt for Rashidi, my gentle giant, he looked so innocent and unsure. The headmaster stepped in and told the man that we are not allowed to let the children leave with unauthorized persons, and that he would have to wait outside of the school gates for Rashidi's house girl to come pick him up from school as usual, and then he could go with the two of them if he wished, and that's exactly what he did. We warned the house girl when she came to pick up Rashidi, we told her what had happened and that she was COMPLETELY responsible for this little boy...she was NOT to release him to his father regardless of anything he might say or do. Rashidi's father didn't seem scary, or harmful necessarily- however there was an element of confusion and fear that came from Rashidi in those few minutes outside with his father that left me unsettled and anxious to see Rashidi tomorrow in class, safe and happy.

Meet Rashidi.

After the crazy, eventful day was over, Mary and I sat near the outside door to our classroom talking to one another, reflecting on the day and monitoring children as they left with their house workers. At one point the two of us ran out of things to say and the conversation fell silent, only to hear the deepest voice yelling outside, "Guys, Wait up!" we both looked and Mary said, "Look! See him?" pointing to a tall, slender teenager. I nodded my head wondering where this excitement was leading to. Mary told me that that is where that voice just came from, and he's in second grade! I looked her in disbelief, this guy was a SECOND GRADER? Mary explained that his dad brought him in last year informing them that his wife was raising their son in her village in rural Rwanda somewhere and he just recently had found out that she was not educating him nor sending him off to school...so he intervened. He took his son into his care and brought him into ESCAF asking them to start him in first grade, as he knew noting. So at 16 years old, last year he entered the first grade. Mary said initially all the children surpassed him in class, he couldn't write, spell, count or ANYTHING. But Mary said the teachers worked with him constantly and he is now caught up to his classmates. So among the short figures of the other second graders stands out the deepest voiced, teen and by far the tallest student at ESCAF, who like them...is in the second grade!

Each of us Can Work to Change a Small Portion of Events

"Let no one be discouraged by the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills -- against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence... Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation...It is from the numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance." -- Robert Kennedy

My host sister, Paula, picks me up from school almost everyday and together we ride two public buses to get home. Sometimes a friend walks to my school with her to pick me up. Today her friend, Anick, came with. We rode the first bus to town and then we decided to go shop for a bit, so we started heading to some stores to look at clothes, jewelry, etc... and on our way there, as no different from any other day in my new Rwandan life, locals would stare as i passed by and children reached out their hands to shake mine and wish me good morning (no matter what time of day!) Anick looked at me and said, "they look at your like your Jesus!" It was funny to finally hear somebody else acknowledge what I thought i was the only one notice. Anick was so sweet, she had an air of protector about her. Some man reached out to show me a wallet as I was walking by and she swatted his hand away...Anick laughed and said, "They just want to touch you!" She pulled me near her as busses would whiz by as if I were going to be run over and she'd push me places holding onto my bag her behind me (nudging our ways into shops and to the front of lines) after noting my less than aggressive nature. I think my dependent self has been missing a shoulder to lean on and someone to lead me through life for a while (even if just for an hour or two) God brought me Anick just when I needed her.

While in town I saw two men get in a heated physical fight over something I'm sure i'd be able to tell you about if I spoke Kinyarwanda with not a single soul intervening, legless men with flip flops on their hands crawling down the streets and women with jerrycans full of water in their hands and babies strapped to their back. Usually when I'm in town God speaks to me about how incredibly fortunate I am, it's amazing the lessons you learn when you just listen. Next time you see something that gives you an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, don't just brush it off, it might actually be something YOU'RE supposed to see...it might just change your life!


Yesterday afterschool I gave Deborah some chocolate that I had gotten for her over the weekend, today I saved my applejuice and corn puffs to give to her after school. I feel like such a mother stuffing a paper bag full of goodies into that little girls back pack, I don't know why I love her so much-

maybe she's an answer to one of my prayers, or maybe I'm an answer to one of hers.

Eating or Education?

Met one of my students for the first time today...(it's almost my FOURTH week at school) His mom brought him in and said his father disappeared and so she's been struggling to feed him and pay his school fees, hence his absence... Remember to appreciate everything you have today and ALWAYS...because some people have to choose between eating, and going to school...

Today one of my little girls in class, Nicole, pointed to a mosquito bite on my arm and with the sweetest softest voice, said, "But don't get sick, because I love you..." I had to go outside and "blow my nose" so nobody would see my tears welling up in my eyes. Things hit you harder in Africa- they do me, anyway. 

The world I live in and the world I'm interning in are complete opposites. I wash my hands at school in the dirty water of the 58 little hands before me and they never stay clean for long before I'm back to giving every child I pass a high five or a handshake, I hug little babies infected with ring worm and catching it is the LAST of my worries and I save the juice or water that my host mom buys me to make sure every one of my students has something to drink at school each day.

My host sister, Paula, asked me at lunch on Sunday if I'm close with my parents, before giving me time to answer she said, I know you are- you always smile when you talk about them. I looked at her and couldn't help but smile, and told her that, Yes- my parents are probbaly my two best friends, as if I was waiting to be punnished for my answer I looked up at her and asked, "Why?" and she said, because children arn't close to their parents, like you are, where I'm from, parents don't know how to love their kids and give affection... Well i'll be darned if I don't love all my kids TWICE as much now. It is my wish that every child I'm around KNOWNS how special they are. If not to their parents, to ME.

Asking for Prayers and Begging for Answers

Internet here, I've learned, even with a wireless modem is nothing to rely on. So bare with me as I'm eager to blog more than I am allowed. (due to both time and internet connection)

Saturday was quite the day. to preface this story, two weekends ago I woke up- went out into the family room where my host brother, Bruce, and our house girl, Benita, were watching T.V. and just had time to sit down before the front doors (which lead right into the family room) burts open with a frantic woman bussling about the house, she was moaning and muttering words in Kinyarwanda and no one was saying a thing. I sat there in amusement waiting for someone to either introduce me or kick this loonie out. After the woman had wanered into the near hallway, the house girl looked at Bruce and they burst out laughing as I sit in the dark on the couch between them, Benita nudged Bruce, muttered some words and pointed to me, she doesn't speak English but i'm assuming it was something along the lines of, "Explain to her!" Bruce just looked at me with confusion on where to start and finally got out the words, "That's my Aunt, She's just crazy..." I didn't ask quetsions, trust me... you wouldn't have either, and that was really that. Now back to THIS Saturday, I woke up around 8:30- still feeling kind of sick and slow but I wanted to get out of bed to wash off my germs with a bath. I could hear my host mom in the family room so I opened my door to ask her for bath water (bath water in which the domestic workers bring from the back yard- but my lack of Kinyarwanda leaves for an inability to ask for it myself), I was quick to discover we had company. My mom introduced me to her sister-in-law and then explained to me that we have no water yet today. I was, not happy to admit, less than enthused to carry on an awkward, four sentence, forced conversation with a complete stranger so I moseyed on back to my room and lay in bed. My host mom knocked on my door a short half hour later and told me breakfast was ready, she has been asking the workers to make SOUP for breakfast lately since I've been sick (something new, but a wonderful remedy) as I went out to the table I saw the newly introduced Aunt was joining us. I knew that most of my host fathers family was killed in the genocide, but what I didn't know what was I was about to face this morning at breakfast.

Mom was getting ready for church so it was just me, Aunt Janet and Paula at the table. As usual I had lots of food thrown at me with no idea how to prepare it or properly eat. Aagain, I wasn't in the mood to fake it or ask so I sat and only touched my soup. It was silent. Aunt Janet then spoke, "You don't like Mangos?" pointing to the Mango sitting on the plate in front of me. Well, i've learned here in Rwanda that I LOVE Mangos, my host mom buys them for me and I eat them up. I told Aunt Janet that I love mangos, just don't know how to cut it...so Janet shot up, grabed a knife and taught me. She did half of it then made me show her what I learned with the other half. I immediatley felt remorsful for having avoided her earlier in the morning, and apologized to God in silent prayer for being so selfish. Then the conversations started...Aunt Janet was speaking to Paula in Kinyarwanda and I sat at the end of the table having conversations with myself in my head. Then Janet looked down at me and explained...she was telling Paula about her experience during the genocide, it was something Paula had never been told before- and obviously, me either. Janet was a VERY very thin lady, almost purely bones with thinned hair and a seemingly young, yet prematurly aged face. Janet told me that she was approached during the genocide to be killed, they wanted her dead but didn't want to waste their bullets or machettes on her so they appointed a lady to perform witchcraft. Janet didn't talk much about the process but spoke up much about the aftermath. She told me that she's a Christian and never thought much of witch craft or it's abilities to over come her, howver, after her experience and after she was rescued and in safe quarters she couldn't sleep. She couldn't sleep for days, weeks, then months, then years. Janet did not sleep for three years and seven months after she was first approached during the genocide. She lost function of her legs, couldn't hold up her head, didn't eat and obvoiusly, wasn't sleeping. She lay in bed and awaited death. Janet said she asked the Lord, begged the Lord to kill her. She said she cursed the day she was born, her mother for giving birth to her and the Lord for creating her. She hated her neighbors who came to bath and feed her for keeping her alive and she didn't talk to ANYONE. Well, then Janet told me, God doesn't kill and God has a plan for us all. I told her, Amen! I told her God must have BIG plans for her upon her recovery. Janet told me that she sees the lady around town often, the one who taunted her with witch craft and she told me that she still dreams at night images of the lady casting spells on her and taunting her in her sleep. Wow, and I thought I had enemies? I glanced over and Paula, with her jaw hanging half open, she looked at me and said, "I never knew, all I knew was that Janet used to be so pretty..." Well, Janet is still beautiful, I'm sure what Paula meant was that those sleepless years took a toll on Janet, physically. Well, I reassured Janet that she was going to do great things with her future- especially having such a daunting past, and that I would pray for her continuous improvement and ask the Lord to keep her close and safe. Janet thanked me so much and then said I have someone else who might need your prayers more. She then spoke up about the "Crazy" Aunt, the one who came over two weeks ago. She was held captive during the genocide as well, she didn't explain her situation or give me any details of her experiences...what she did tell me, though, was to pray for her. She explained how after the genocide, the refugees who returned back to Rwanda questioned those who survived the genocide without being killed. Those who stayed in Rwanda and lived through it all wern't to be trusted. Janet exlained that people thought they must have somehow took part in it to stay alive and that they were killers, murders themselves. Aunt Janets surviving sister met refugee after the genocide, fell in love and got married. However, this mans parents fell into the stereotyping of surviving Rwandans from the genocide. They thought she was a killer and so they first shunned her. Then they started to harrass her, then they began to taunt her and abuse her. Then the convinced their son she was a trator, a murderer and a liar. So they got him to take the couples two young babies and leave her. The family took her money, took her house and took her husband and children from her. The husband now lives in New York City, the babies live in Uganda with his sister and the parents live in Rwanda to taunt this poor woman every day of her life. She says that prayers help, only momentarily, until one of them finds her again and abuses her physically or mentally. Again I looked at Paula in disbelief....this was so much information for my heart and head to wrap around... I want the family to stop calling her crazy. She's not crazy, she's NORMAL! We all sat there in silence until Mom came out almost immediatley after Aunt Janets last words and said, "Elizabeth, Waters Ready!" I had pleanty to soak up so I left the table and shuffled to the bathroom.

Everyday after school Paula and I take two taxis home. One from school to town and then one from town to home. In town there is a lot of poverty, I know what you're thinking, isn't there poverty in all of Rwanda? Well, yes...but it's what I see in town that I take home with me each night. There are many women covered in clay laying on the sidewalks with their babies (dirty also) laying under umbrellas and above blankets crying because their hungry, hot and miserable, there's a blind woman who always stands at the same spot with her hands held out asking for money, and a man without legs who often sits just adjacent to the buses staring at everyone who walks past him like a slap in the face. I pray a lot about the things I see in town, God tells us that he is the poor person begging for money in the street...I know I can't save theese people by giving them some momeny, but I can't just walk past God every day on my way home and turn the other shoulder knowing I've never had to face poverty, hard times or much if any extreme sacrifice. So please, I'm asking for lots of prayers this week for those who I see in town, I see God in all of them and I think- I KNOW I'm in this position for a reason...please pray.

If you want to know what I'm learning here and what God is teaching me I'll leave you with this...I'm learning not to feel sorry for myself. I'm learning that when my warm shower water goes cold and I wonder why It coudln't have stayed hot for five more seconds that I'm one of thee most selfish human beings in this world. I've learned that when I have to stop on my way somewhere to get gas, and it's a HUGE inconvience for me and extremely out of my way, i'm learning- it's not. Most people in Rwanda don't have cars, and some people don't even have legs...I'm learning never to use the expression, "I'm starving!" because if you've never seen someone- really truly starving, you might think you were...but let me be the fist to tell you, you're not! I've seen starving babies who's corse black hair is whispy, white and cotton-like because they only get fed when there's money. God doens't put us in situations we can't handle, which is teaching me that I'm currently living in a country with some of Gods toughest soldiers, and I have to love all of them for that. I'm weak, i'm self-ish and I'm EXTREMELY fortunate...but I'm also human- and a lover of God, that's what I'm learning.

If A Pictures Worth a Thousand Words...Lets Try This!

This is ESCAF, the wonderful School where I'm working. The classrooms you see are for grades P4 (fourth grade) through P6 (sixth grade) P3 classes are directly behind P4-P6 and the small brick building you see peeking out on the right, that's the Nursery where I teach! Every morning I walk towards the class slowly one or two heads peeking around the corner and then a rush of children running towards me with shrieks of "MAZUNGU!", what a way to start the day. I can't say they don't make me feel loved each and every day!

These are a few children in my class. I have 58 kids in my class with only three teachers (including myself) imagine the work it is for Mary and Monique to do alone...

The Girls! -try to tell me Kindergartners don't have attitudes! :) (Left to Right: Chance, Harriette, Joyeuse and KuKu) they're always some of the last to leave and sit in the back left corner of class after school and gossip. Kuku and Joyeuse both have mom's who teach at the school- Joyeuse is a spunky girl and Kuku thinks she owns the place, she kind of does! Chance and Harriette have older siblings at ESCAF so they have to wait until they are out of class to pick them up.

This is Charmant, he's a heartbreaker. I took this pictures shortly after he asked me to marry him.

This is Nice- her name, is Nice. It fits her wholeheartedly and she's wonderful. The children in Rwanda must have short, shaved hair until they are done with secondary school. Essentially until the graduate what we'd refer to as high school. Nice used to have long hair but they sent her home yesterday to enforce education rules, today she came back with a shaved head. The chidren were busy rubbing Nice's head today, she thought it was funny so I had to join in too. :)

This is Igor- On the first day of school Mary and Monique introduced me to the class. the explained to me that two of the children wern't normal so we just sit them in the back and leave them. I wasn't quite sure what this meant but kept my eyes on them closely. I quickly learned, I'm NO doctor and not one to diagnos anything- but Igor definatly seems to have a mental handicap of some sort. What it is i'm not sure and that issue is ENTIRELY unaddresed here in Rwanda. The teachers don't give Igor any class work nor do they expect him to participate... I give him class work though. Each day I take the homework to Igor, I work with him on it (even though Mary and Monique tell me not to waste my time) and he GETS IT! He does it with a little help and he LIKES to learn! He knows how to write all his letters, numbers, cut along the lines, color pictures, etc..he just needs a little help and someone to believe in him. Mary and Monique always tease me becuase I tell them that no one gets what a "child services" major is..everyone thinks i'm either a doctor or a teacher. So when Igor went running up to the front of the class to show Mary what he had done one day Mary looked and me and said, "You ARE a doctor! You fixed him!" ...well Igor was never broken...he never will be unless people continue to treat him as though he is. I think it's important, even though i'm half the age of these two teachers who have been teaching for years and years, to teach them a few things too. Like every child is worthy of learning, every child has potential and EVERY child is capable. Well, I promise you- I'm no doctor, but I like to hope I fixed Mary and Moniques perception ofthe "different children". They may not understand handicaps or learning disabilities, and i'm not exactly one to teach them or train them, but I think I did pleanty. Abandon no Child, just as God never abandons nor loses hope in you.

Kessy, she's the shiest, sweetest little angel...just thought you should all be blessed with a little Kessy!

This is Fargy, he's one of the youngest. If you look closely Fargy's front top teeth are rotting. They're decaying and almost disintegrated... Most of my classes teeth are rotting in some sort, it breaks my heart everyday.

If you ask me why I wanted to major in Child Services or why I do what I do..I think this picture pretty much sums it up.

and I leave you again with Charmant, just because I love this picture!