Weeldreyers in RwandaRead our January 2023 newsletter at the link below!
https://mailchi.mp/9d68db47f4a3/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9290147
This newsletter contains updates on:
A POST BY: CHELSEA
My family loves the natural world, and as we get to know Rwanda, it’s been life-giving to explore that here. In January we had the opportunity to spend time at Akagera National Park, a blend of protected woodland, savannah, and wetland that has held national park status since 1934.
Akagera has not had a smooth journey, however. Sixty years after its founding, the park was abandoned when the devastating genocide of 1994 took place. Later, returning refugees spilled back into the country. They needed land for themselves and their livestock, and options were sparse. As a result, Akagera became home to many returnees (and 30,000+ cattle). Things deteriorated rapidly on the land. Human/wildlife conflict wiped out the lion population, and overgrazing threatened ecological health. In 1997 the size of the park was slashed significantly. Two-thirds of the land was reallocated to refugees to meet their settlement needs; the remaining third retained park status.
Now, over 20 years later, we’re so grateful for the restoration that many people have labored to bring to Akagera. Instead of leaving it as a wasteland, stakeholders have sought to restore ecological health by dealing carefully with invasive plants, combatting poaching, and re-introducing species like lion and rhinos.
Something within this narrative is very reflective of our creative and gracious God, I think. Instead of abandoning us in our spiritual poverty, God seeks to restore us, to bring us to full health again. We mimic him when we act likewise toward his creation, and we are reminded of his desire to restore us when we see restoration of the earth.
When our family visited Akagera, I marveled at the beauty that has been retained and restored in this place — at the abundance of animal life and the vitality of the land. Indeed, the place brought a sense of personal restoration and refreshment for me. We know multiple missionaries for whom the park is a special place to pause, breathe deeply, and behold beauty. Health begets health, and we, too, hope to return!
Below are a few of my favorite shots from our time at Akagera. We are still re-living the moments of seeing many of these — and more! — awesome creatures and landscapes. (Evie’s favorites were the baboons, although she also likes to entertain us with her zebra noises.) Enjoy!
A POST BY: CHELSEA
I love color — it’s one of the many ways that I see beauty in the world and celebrate God’s creativity.
It’s also a fun lens through which to explore new geographical and cultural spaces.
Here, I’m sharing snapshots of color that have caught my eye during our first five months in Rwanda. In part, I wanted to assemble these photos in the same space because I don’t always see this variety of color all at once in Rwanda: this, like any collection of pictures, is curated.
A typical view of Kigali often looks like green (lots of it, largely because of agriculture), red-orange (dirt roads and construction sites), patio & brick earth tones, and light yellow buildings with terracotta-colored roofs. Because of this, my first impression of Rwanda was that it was pretty uniform. But as expected, after frequenting and peering into smaller physical and cultural spaces over the span of several months, I’ve discovered more. Kigali may not have the bright facades of Mexico (sigh), where I visited my sister before we moved to Africa, but over time I’ve both (1) sought out color here and (2) been pleasantly confronted by it. And I celebrate that!
I hope this collection not only brings a splash of vibrance to your day, but helps you get to know Rwanda a bit better, too.
Read our December 2022 newsletter at the link below!
https://mailchi.mp/29c72dda649f/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9278187
This newsletter contains updates on:
A POST BY: CHELSEA
<><><>
It’s been just over three months since we moved to Rwanda, and along the way I’ve sensed my hunch being confirmed:
Missionaries need permission not to have a honeymoon stage.
(At least, not immediately.)
Don’t get me wrong — my family is managing well, and we’re deeply grateful to be here, in all the bittersweetness that comes with a major transition! We even enjoy lots of things about life here (ask me about the weather, the coffee, the views, the new relationships; etc.).
But this topic is complex and, I think, worthy of discussion.
As we prepared to serve as missionaries in Rwanda, many individuals excitedly asked me if I knew about the stages of culture shock. Often I could barely get my “yes” out before they would go on to explain it to me anyway. So whether you’re familiar with the model or not, I’ll be guilty of the same, and explain it to you anyway:
A popular model of cultural transition suggests that people entering another cultural context typically go through
(1) a honeymoon stage, when all seems exciting and rosy in the new cultural context (think Rapunzel’s “BEST DAY EVER!” moments in Disney’s Tangled)
(2) a hostility stage, when reality “sinks in” and one begins to feel frustrated with and fatigued by elements of the new surroundings,
(3) a resolution stage, when one begin to come to terms with and accept this tension,
(4) an acceptance stage, when one can claim the new context as “home” (in some way) — delights, challenges, and all!
I do think this model is helpful, but I also think it shouldn’t be applied rigidly. The experience of each stage can vary tremendously from individual to individual, and the stages aren’t necessarily linear, either.
In short, while these categories may be helpful in lending vocabulary to the experience of cultural transition, missionaries need to be allowed to have a generous array of responses to their new context in their initial weeks and months. My personal experience entering a new cultural context (Rwanda) this time around has been markedly different from other times.
Some background:
When I completed an internship in South Africa during college, I absolutely fell in love with it. I could have melted into the very land. I soaked up everything and felt part of my heart break when departure day rolled around.
When I moved to Jerusalem after college, I don’t know if I ever really left the honeymoon stage during my two years in Israel-Palestine. That’s a bit naive to say, because actually, there were frustrations aplenty. But even the challenges of the Israeli-Palestinian context bolstered my love for the place and the people, and nurtured a personal sense of purpose. I still have an abiding love for the land, the people, the history, the longings for peace. Honestly, there was never a day that I wished I didn’t live there.
Rwanda has been unique. When I visited for the first time with my husband a year ago, I threw open the curtains the first morning of our visit, looked out the window, and thought with a slight sense of disorientation, “This could grow on me.” That was it. (And, by the way, it was a really lovely visit! Life is complex.) Rwanda was just a different experience for me. Beautiful — such lovely hills. Strange — so unfamiliar. Sad — no ocean. Serious — where is the laughter? Endearing — these people are polite.
(Encouragement for those discerning about mission: this can be your experience! Don’t feel bad about it. Keep seeking the Lord’s will. It will be fine.)
Back to the present: we are still so new here. My understanding of this place and the people here is far from seasoned. My husband’s experience entering Rwanda has been different from mine. I can’t speak for how I will feel in 6 months, 12 months, 18 months… But the experiences and feelings of the first three months have been so varied that, all together, they do not scream “honeymoon stage!”
To give some more tangible examples:
I delight in a crisp view of the hills after a good rain clears the air.
I admire how hard-working many of the people are.
I am puzzled by their quiet and serious demeanor.
I feel challenged by not being able to ‘read the culture’ and detect what others might be thinking.
I like the way some things are done here; I don’t like the way others are.
I am encouraged when a straight face dissolves into a smile and someone says, “Good morning!”
I miss Latino culture (and music and color).
I miss Israeli and Palestinian culture (and food and land).
I am grieved by economic disparity, and am sometimes uncomfortable with the level of privilege I bring.
I am touched by our pastor’s kindness in bringing us eggs and juice.
I am hopeful for new relationships, and
I am sad that we have increased the distance between ourselves and our family and friends in the U.S. — sad that Evie is growing up apart from those loved ones, and they are not getting to see her sing and dance and read books and practice jumping.
It’s really a mixed bag.
And the thing is, this isn’t bad. It’s not wrong for me to not be immediately infatuated with a new cultural space. It also wouldn’t be bad if I were (initially, at least)!
Simplifying the first phase of a missionary’s transition to a “honeymoon stage” risks doing a disservice to the complexity of the experience, both in terms of general understandings of mission and for missionaries themselves. Sometimes missionaries need time to grieve the loss of a more direct connection with other cultural contexts. Sometimes a particular culture makes your heart sing while another doesn’t. I think that life stage can play a role. Sometimes it just. takes. a. long. time. to get to know a culture.
To be fair, there are certainly times that a missionary does waltz right off the plane (or train or car or whatever) into a dreamy honeymoon stage, and that should be celebrated for the joyful connection it is!
But if they don’t, that’s just fine, too (and it’s probably equally valuable in less evident ways).
I think that at the end of the day, missionaries — like all Christians — are called to focus on faithfulness, and a honeymoon stage, whether present or not, is simply not the measure of faithfulness. Something much more important is at stake here — our relationship with the Lord and our obedience to him. There’s a wonderful amount of freedom in this.
For me, that freedom means my family and I will continue to debrief, at the end of most days, what was good and what was hard, and the main things we’ll continue to ask are: what is God calling us to, and are we being faithful?
Honeymoon stage or not, I believe it’s this question that will keep us on the straight path. We believe God guided us here to serve him and that he has a plan. And so, as we get to know the culture and situate ourselves within it, we watch and wait, asking what is in store. Our emotional attachment to the people and culture is included in this: we’re enjoying taking steps toward getting to know and appreciate our new cultural context, but we’re also asking the Lord to give us his love for this new place and people, because we want that to be the ultimate foundation of our love.
An application suggestion for all of us (I’m talking to myself, too): if you find yourselves speaking with missionaries who have just transitioned to the field, stick with open-ended inquiries. Instead of asking, “Isn’t it just a dream to be there?!” or casually referencing their honeymoon stage, simply ask, “How’s the transition been so far?” (“What’s been good and what’s been hard?” is also a good one.)
As I reflect on my transition to Rwanda so far, I’m grateful: I’m freely processing a LOT of thoughts and feelings — and not trying to fit them into a honeymoon stage. Because of this, the ways I am growing fond of this place and people feel even more special. For me, Rwanda is sneaking into my heart little by little. As that happens buhoro buhoro (slowly slowly, as they say here), I’m letting it take its own form. And I think this is good.
<><><>
What about you?
I’d love to hear others’ thoughts and experiences around the “honeymoon stage.” Drop me a note here or connect with me personally. Thanks for reading.
Read our October 2022 newsletter at the link below!
https://mailchi.mp/0086465a4cbd/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9191235
This newsletter contains updates on:
Read our September 2022 at the link below!
https://mailchi.mp/626fe32af403/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9179929
This newsletter contains:
BY: CHELSEA
FIRST IMPRESSIONS:
First impressions: If I don’t write them down, they’ll fade. And these tidbits may be interesting for any of you with cultural curiosities or who want to picture, more tangibly, what our first couple weeks in Rwanda have looked like. The reflections below are not exhaustive, nor are they in any particular order. They’re also mine — Wade might share some sentiments and feel differently about others.
(What are Rwanda’s first impressions of us? We wish we knew!!)
The land:
The hills are lovely. I love topographical change, and Rwanda is nicknamed “the Land of a Thousand Hills.” I’m happy that our walks to the supermarket or to church always involve a view. Terra cotta colored roofs; paved roads and dirt roads; banana trees; hazy horizon lines. Some days I have sat, for a few minutes, on the ledge outside our driveway just to look over at the distant red dirt road that climbs up the hill south of us. People and bicycles navigate up and down slowly, just dots on the landscape. It’s calming to watch.
(I try to imagine what the land was like before it was developed and cultivated. That’s an era of the past. The city is abuzz now, and growing. Construction is everywhere. Things change quickly here. But there is still green on the hills, and agriculture in the valleys, and that is good!)
The walls:
For security purposes, almost all the properties here are walled and gated (including our house). This is a sad reality for me. I love physical and social openness, and some of my fondest memories of our home back in Illinois involve the shared yard space we had with our neighbors, who were also dear friends. The days when the neighbor kids could be outside at any time, ready to have impromptu conversations or help Evie get on a tricycle, feel like a bygone era — one we treasure. For us now, it is brick walls and padlocked gates. I don’t know what to do with this opacity yet.
The streets:
Anytime of day, there are people walking the streets. I love this; it makes me feel more connected with a living, moving community. Some people are walking to work, others to the store, others to I don’t know where. On main roads, lots of motos [motorcycle taxis] and bicyclists navigate alongside vehicles. Driving feels like more of an art than a science.
The work:
In Rwanda, many things are done manually, and labor is cheap. The people impress me — the men stacking bricks; the women with babies on their backs and a basket of produce on their head; the men meticulously cutting dead vines out of chain link fence so that it can be re-used. People walk down the streets with long stacks of empty buckets on their heads like they are just carrying a purse. Our first week, I saw a wheelbarrow strapped to a bicycle as the cyclist whizzed down the hill. Around here, it’s work just to get to work. (Of course, there is white collar work here, too, and lots of other people simply drive to their offices each day. There’s a lot here we haven’t seen yet.)
The temperament:
Last October we visited Rwanda for a week, and at that time I found the people to be very serious. In part, I think this is because it’s what I’d heard; they’re serious, they’re reserved. And there is an element of truth to that. From what we understand, the people of Rwanda place a high value on dignity, and on holding oneself in a dignified manner.
However, now that we are here I see a little more: for one thing, the mask mandate that was in place last fall is lifted, meaning I can see people’s whole faces now, including their smiles! Second, I have come with a specific desire to see, in this serious culture, when and where their joy and laughter and smiles emerge — because they do. And finally, this time we’ve brought Evie (read on!).
The people and Evie:
People in Rwanda love Evie so far. We knew that having a toddler would attract the smiles of people anywhere we went, and that Evie would help break the ice on the mission field and such. But precisely because we find ourselves in a more serious culture, I’ve been especially delighted by the affection expressed toward Evie. On the streets, in the stores, Rwandan people smile at her and make funny faces. (At first, Evie was shy. More recently she’s started joining in the game.) And it’s not just the women who do it — men, too. Old men and young men. The other day our waiter at a restaurant smiled at Evie and pinched her cheek. The man in uniform who looked intimidating to ask directions from grinned and started to play peek-a-boo with her. It’s very sweet.
In some ways, we wonder if children give the people here an excuse to be silly.
The supermarket:
It takes trips to several supermarkets to gather a well-rounded supply of food. Inside the small stores, butter is hard to find (it’s probably just us newbies), and salt is expensive. I have learned you are supposed to bag your eggs, just as one would do with produce in the U.S.. (Except here you put your both your eggs and produce in brown paper bags, and then you end up with a lot of brown paper bags at home. I don’t know what everyone does with these, since Rwanda doesn’t seem to have recycling. So far we keep ours for catching cockroaches.)
Overall, supermarket pros here: delicious, inexpensive local produce! I love tropical fruits. Here, I can get 10 passion fruits for under a dollar, and finally, we’re in a place that sells avocados at a reasonable price. 🙂 Also, fresh bread!
Cons: it’s a slow learning game of what’s available where, what’s never available, what’s right under your nose in different packaging in a different language, etc. It makes me feel vastly less competent in the world of cooking. It will just take time for this to pass, and that’s okay. I haven’t found many fresh greens close to home; I miss that, and I’ll have to branch out farther if I want a regular supply.
Daily life:
We don’t have real schedules yet. Not structured, regular ones, anyway. Each day we get up, remember we live in Rwanda, and have breakfast (usually eggs, passion fruit or bananas, and some kind of bread). We read a psalm together, and talk about what needs to get done that day. So far some of the tasks have included getting cell service, getting electricity, buying drinking water, obtaining a gas canister for our stove, sitting around waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for the electrician or the people who said they’d deliver our fridge, spending 4.5+ hours setting up a bank account, figuring out how to transfer funds to said bank account, spending 3 hours with the mechanic to fix our broken car key… Oh, and being good parents to Evie and good partners to each other! Not to mention beginning to look outwards toward meetings with people we’ll be doing ministry with here.
Some days feel manageable, and we feel a sense of pleasure and accomplishment. Other days we cry because we miss people — family, friends, our church. Certain days have felt like ocean waves that keep pummeling us and challenging our balance. Recent days have felt more stabilizing. We’re grateful for the truth that God is with us, regardless of whether we’re feeling upbeat or worn down.
Moments of encouragement:
We feel a lot of feelings these days, and one of them IS encouragement! Below are a few moments that I have treasured so far. All involve Evie, which is sweet because it brings me fresh perspective and shows me that she, too, can do well here:
You can access our August 2022 newsletter through this link:
https://mailchi.mp/b91b724da9fd/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9160213
This newsletter contains:
You can access our July 2022 newsletter through this link:
https://mailchi.mp/aec265c56fd1/weeldreyers-in-rwanda-mission-update-9151245
This newsletter contains: