The Way It Is

Motosi is at it again. In this song Motosi sings of a couple different subjects, and presents them honestly and unapologetically. Some observations are unique to Burundi, like the "bed mattress" observation. Some subjects are shared by all cultures, like "marital conflict." And other topics like "begging" and "education" are sung about for good measure. I shot this video a couple months back with my friend Adam. See what you can make of it. I think it's a keeper.

The way it is from SETH CHASE on Vimeo.

The Ultimate Volcano Hike

Goma, Nyiragongo volcano hike from SETH CHASE on Vimeo.

I meant to get this video to friends a long time ago. Let me know if the video doesn't work properly. Not too many people get to do this hike. It's an active volcano in Congo, if you don't have time jump to the end to check out where we camped... right on the edge of the volcano. A woman actually fell in the volcano a while before we were there so be careful when "volcano-ing", and the guards didn't hesitate to tell us about the woman who fell in, anytime we got really close to the edge, Mainly Brando was guilty of getting too close. A few Canadians just sat all night and drank bad coffee, and stared into the lava, It's quite powerful when you are there staring into the lava... it was one of those amazing times of being in awe of the planet we live on... unfortunately Trina was really sick on this trip so it wasn't her favorite time.

Trade your gun in for a mobile phone!

Burundi collected nearly 14 000 weapons in a nationwide campaign to disarm the civilian population and ensure elections next year will be peaceful.

The tiny central African country of 8 million people is emerging from more than a decade of civil war that killed 300 000 people.

"The different arms collected from October 19 to 28 include guns, hand grenades, bombs, mines and ammunition," Leopold Banzubaze, deputy chairman of the national board in charge of disarming the civil population.

"The campaign has been successful. We hope that the 2010 election will be held in peace and security," Banzubaze said.

The national board in charge of disarmament reckons 70 000 weapons have been collected since 2007, out of an estimated 100 000 weapons in the hands of civilians.

President Pierre Nkurunziza had set a one-week deadline for people who possess weapons to hand them in or face severe penalties such as 10 years in prison or a hefty fine.

Those who gave up their weapons voluntarily received building materials such as iron sheets and cement, clothes and mobile phones.

umoja

To be together as one in spirit. That is the message of this song. John Bosco is the name of this musician, and he actually teaches music here in Bujumbura not too far from my house. He's the most refined of the musicians so far, and he has a load of songs, and on this day, he recorded two of his originals in our living room. Again, John is a friend of a friend. My buddy Adam tried to get john for a month... we couldn't track him down, so when I heard he had an hour, we just rolled cameras. I think John Bosco is Burundi's Ben Harper. I have no doubt that if John Bosco cut an Album, it would do quite well, I'll have to talk to Adam to see if we could help with that. John doesn't showcase his guitar skills here, but he's actually quite good, because he would just jam inbetween songs, and when we started recording, we would totally change his style. This song is about his message for unity, so it's a vocally driven song, with a chorus you can't ignore. He sings this song in 4 languages, almost as if, he's using the different languages to emphasize his point, that no matter what tongue you speak, we should be united in spirit as one. Again I hope you enjoy this song as much as I do.

Swahili:

Tuna taka umoja … Africa

We ask for unity … Africa

Tuna taka umoja … wa warundi wote

We ask for unity … every Burundian

Tuna taka umoja … from South Africa to Tunisia

Uwacu wote umoja … umoja ni nguvu.

We ask for unity … unity is our strength.

Kirundi:

Dusabira umoja abarundi, yeah …

We ask for unity all Burundians, yeah …

Dusabira umoja imisi yose

We ask for unity every day

Dusabira umoja ibintu vyose bifite ibibazo

We ask for unity in everything that causes us problems

Dusabira umoja imisi yose.

We ask for unity every day.

Moja - African local music project video 3 from SETH CHASE on Vimeo.

Sabina

Sabina - African local music project video 2 from SETH CHASE on Vimeo.

Motosi is a rural farmer, to be exact he's a subsistence farmer. He's among the poorest in the world. I found him a year ago when shooting a project to get soccer balls distributed to children in Burundi. My buddy Brandon spotted him jamming just off the road in front of a hut. A couple months back I went to his house with my buddy Adam, and we filmed him as he played a few songs for us. His homemade guitar was ruined during rainy season, and Adam payed to get it fixed at a local sort of fix it guy, but it sounded so bad we let him use a guitar that was donated to me. So, Motosi is playing my guitar and Singing, and his buddy is doing percussion on Motosi's homemade guitar. After the song ends I pan around Motosi showing a bit of his house, and plot. You can see, Adam sitting on a camera box, while about 50 burundians from the village look on, a few soldiers are hiding among the villagers as well. This song is called Sabina. Sabina is the name of a woman he is in love with. He sings the song in Swahili, French, and Kirundi. I can only understand his French portion, but I imagine his Swahili and Kirundi portions are the same.

He basically says that he Loves Sabina, but Sabina just keeps asking for money. Money to feed the kids, money to buy a house, money for fish, money for wood to make a fire. And all this asking for money frustrates him. He goes on to say that beautiful women love money. He warns friends from London, and America, and says "listen up, beautiful women love money, I think it's like that all the time." He keeps repeating these themes.

I found it interesting because Sabina seems to ask for money for responsible practical things. I know it's written but one of the poorest in the world, so it likely gets tiring of always being asked for money when you don't have any money, and you barely have enough money to live. I thought motosi had a raw sound, sort of Bob Dillonesque, but better, with less profound lyrics.

Local Burundi Music Series featuring live performances by local African artists

Have you ever heard the sound of a Burundian musician? I didn’t think so. If a Burundian wants to get his or her music on the radio or televsion, they give up all the rights to their songs, so the serious musicians never really get their music out there. They’ll maybe get an audience of a couple hundred other Burundians and a few expatriates. I decided to do a Burundi music project and feature some local musicians, from my area of the woods in Burundi in order to bring the musicians to you. This series will feature four musicians. The two musicians in this video are August and Ceasar. They are twin brothers, and they are Tutsi, and they wrote this song together about the genocide that has been happening in Burundi for the last thirteen years, only I've not heard anything like this song before. The song discusses the genocide from an angle I've not heard, and gets to the root cause. If you are from the region you would know it’s a song written by Tutsi’s, and August and Caesar have taken a bit of slack for it, but anybody who doesn't live there wouldn't be able to tell. I think it's fine for people to tell their story from whatever side of the fence they are on, true freedom of expression is necessary for healing. What I love most about all these musicians, is that, everybody that I will show you is writing from experience. Every artist featured has lived through the genocide. They are all among the poorest people in the world, they are not "A List" artists visiting the country, then writing a Billboard hit single. These guys are the real deal. They are the people in their songs. I was sort of blown away by the lyrics of this song, and as I said already I’ve never heard a song like it. If you choose to watch the video, make sure you’re in a quiet place with no distractions. A I mentioned, August and Caesar are twin brothers who grew up during the genocide, and their whole life experience is seasoned by war, and corruption, simply because of where they were born. Many of us, who watch this video are fortunate to never experience anything close to what these guys would call their, “normal life.” I’m thankful for these musicians, and the stories they tell. The struggles they’ve survived. This was a live performance recorded in our living room. Myself, Trina, and my buddy Adam, were all present to watch these guys, sing their story. I hope the song is as powerful for you as it was for me.

The albino situation in Burundi

In a small courtroom in eastern Burundi, state prosecutor Nicodeme Gahimbare waves a bone at the judges and the eight men lined up in front of them, as he states his case.

It’s a human bone.

The eight men are on trial for murdering albinos and trying to sell their body parts across the border in Tanzania, where some people believe that using albino body parts in witchcraft can bring wealth and good fortune. Some of the body parts found are now on display for all to see.

The grisly case shocked people far beyond the courthouse in the Burundian town of Ruyigi, where three of the men got a life sentence and the other five got 20 years in prison for aiding and abetting.

For Kazungu Kassim, a spokesman for Burundi’s albinos, the sentences were a victory. “It gives the Burundi Albinos Association a lot of courage because it shows that the government is on our side,” he told Reuters Africa Journal after the trial. “I think it could reduce the amount of attacks on albinos and I also think it might discourage anyone who was intending to endanger the life of an albino in our country.”

It was the first in a series of cases in which the governments of Burundi and Tanzania are finally trying to bring some of those behind the albino murders to justice. More than 50 albinos — who lack pigment in their skin, eyes and hair — have been killed in the two countries, presumably to fuel the cross-border trade in their sought-after body parts.

Tanzania opened five new cases last month, and Burundi passed down another sentence on July 23, condemning one more person to life in prison.

Both countries are also trying to convince ordinary citizens to help in the arrest of those responsible. But it’s little consolation for those who have already lost a loved one in such a brutal and horrific way.

Outside her hut, Leonie Kabura cradles her baby twins. They’re all she has left. Until a few months ago, her 16-year-old daughter helped to care for them. But she was albino, one of the 11 who was murdered in Burundi.

Her husband had left her because of the stigma attached to albinism here.

“Those people who were arrested should rot in prison,” says Leonie bitterly. “If the
government can kill them, then they should, because they are the reason for my hunger.”

Many albinos in this region still live in fear of being attacked and killed, and in Ruyigi town, the government has rented a safe house guarded by the police, where about 25 albinos have found shelter.
“We used to get along well with everybody,” says Godefroid Hakizimana. “That’s changed now. We’re being told that they’re going to kill us to earn lots of money.”

Africa is thought to have the highest concentration of albinos in the world. Only about 200 live in Burundi, but an estimated 200,000 live across the border in Tanzania.

In the main city Dar es Salaam, people were horrified by what’s been happening.

“I want to tell my fellow Tanzanians not to get conned by these witchdoctors,” says Catherine Nguni. “They themselves are looking for wealth, so how can they make you rich?”

Pamela Mcheka, also a Dar resident, is herself an albino. “My family tells me to be careful at night and that I should stay indoors,” she says. “I just hope God will watch over us.”

A film to critique

A few of you know that among the projects I've been doing here in Burundi, there has been one large project for my good friend Simon. I'll be posting more about it in the future but I'll just put a video below that we shot in Uganda many months ago. Simon will be off to the states, showing videos, preaching, and challenging the church, networking, serving, and doing all sorts of things, but one of the things he'll be doing is showing and selling these videos, and the funds will go to support several ministries in Burundi. I'll elaborate in person, and via blog again in the future... this is just a sample of sorts.

What I remember about this video: The road trip was a blast, and it was tiring. Four guys, Myself, Simon from England, Charles from Scottland, Isaac from a bit of eveywhere. Long trip. Charles opperated the second camera, and I gave him a 5 min lesson on how to use a camera, stuck all the settings on auto and let him rip. This is also the first film I've done that has 90 percent of the audio done after the fact... which was fun and monotonous. The hardest thing was having simon do all his lines again, then matching his voice with his mouth movements, which in the industry is called ADR. But all the water and wind is fake as well. Soundtrack is by some new contacts in England, Sanj and Chris, who I'm happy to get to meet in a week. We have some good out takes that will go on the dvd... this film was a blast to make. I just wish i could have a second take on making it because i learned how to shoot bungee jumping now... which was tricking, tracking from a bright light source to a darker light source, with varying speeds depending on how tight the bungee was. Simon jumped nine times, i think, setting a record for most consecutive jumps in a row.



The Pili, on the morning of June 3rd

The Pili is an amazing thing.



It’s the hottest pepper in Burundi and Rwanda, and I’m sure Kenya Congo, and Tanzania. I didn’t have it in Sudan, so I don’t know. Some had said it’s the hottest pepper on the earth, trumping those from India and Ethiopia.



Stumptown coffee is the best coffee in the world. Few would argue with that. Actually, just Matt G, Inteligencia, and Counter Culture. But it’s just an argument, that won’t go anywhere.



Stumptown is the best. One of my good buddies is the green coffee buyer for stumptwon coffee. Many who know the higher echelons of coffee know him.



Aleco Chigounis.



He travels the world in search of the best coffee bean. He’s intelligent, assessable, and fantastic and everyone in Burundi loves him. He comes to stay with Trina and I in Bujumbura, bringing us a great variety of stumptowns finest, and then he visits the northern coffee fields of Burundi.



He also likes to disappear here, where cell phones rarely work, and internet is almost dial up on it’s fastest days, electricity comes and goes, so does the water. But the sun sets everyday over the mountains of congo, the lake calls you all day to it’s shores, Burundians shuffle around doing a myriad of subsistence activities and the African sun beats down on you relentlessly when the African rains take some time off.



It’s lush, beautiful, wild, and untamed. And those who want to live life, come here to begin the living… there’s about 40 of us… and we love it. One of the things Aleco and I do every time he comes besides drinking great coffee, working out, swimming, hanging, and eating like Bazungu African king’s is… we both eat the amazingly painful pili pepper. It’s one of the most pleasure-full and pain-full things one can do in Burundi.



It’s a sacred thing, and a spiritual experience. It’s forged our friendship in the fiery depths of the heart of the dark continent. It burns hotter than radiation, and then sends a massive, euphoria straight to your head. Nobody else really believes that I’m telling the truth because they’re too afraid to try the pili in it's natural form. I think Aleco and I may be the only two people who actually eat the pepper itself. It’s typically crushed into a pulp, then bottled, then used in extreme moderation in large meals. I don’t know any Burundians who eat pili pili even in its sauce form. I know a few bazungu who do, but they barely use any pili sauce at all. These series of photos chronicles the morning of the most recent pili worship.



My friend brando often watches us while we partake in the dance of the pili, he just laughs, but this time he took photos. We had the pili with our breakfast and I ate half of my breakfast before I teared into the pili. Once you begin pili consumption you loose all sense of taste for the next 30 minutes (indeed some have died). You can only taste the fantastic depths of the pepper itself… then you burn.



Then a pili high.



Then more burn.



Pili high.



Then the burn eases off, little by little. You begin to remember where you are, who you are, and a renewed sense of purpose in life surfaces from somewhere behind the frontal lobe.

Mutinous Burundi child soldiers sent back home

Hundreds of former child soldiers for Burundi rebels, who recently staged a mutiny demanding better conditions at a demobilisation camp, begun returning home on Wednesday, an official said.
"It's a great satisfaction for us," said Romain Ndagabwa head of the camp where they stayed for about a month in central Gitega town.
The first batch of 136 of the 340 teenagers left Wednesday and the rest will be released next week.
"This morning 136 FNL child soldiers left the Gitega demobilisation centre for their provinces of origin where they will be reunited with their families," said Ndabagwa in a telephone interview with AFP.
The child soldiers from the National Liberation Forces (FNL), Burundi's last active rebel group, had been in Gitega, 100 kilometres (60 miles) east of Bujumbura, since early April awaiting demobilisation.
Aged between 16 and 17, they last week stormed out of the camp in protest to demand better food and to be speedily sent back home.
Each child is being sent off with a kit of clothes and food and will receive a transitional monthly stipend equivalent to 13 euros (17 dollars) for 18 months to allow for their reintegration into society.
A once-off payment equal to 100 euros (136 dollars) will be made out either for formal education or towards a small project of the youngster's choice.
The FNL officially became a political party on April 21 after ending its armed struggle. Around 5,000 FNL former combatants are to be disarmed alongside more than 10,000 allied fighters who will return to civilian life.
The Great Lakes nation struggled to emerge from a 13-year civil war that ended with a ceasefire in 2006 ceasefire after leaving 300,000 dead.
The civil war pitted the army, once dominated by minority Tutsis, against various rebel Hutu groups.

tea season is year round

My Buddy Brando took some shots of a weekend away up in Northern Burundi. I was supposed to get some shots of Coffee for a film I'm doing, but we stayed at a Tea plantation. Obviously this presented a bit of a dilemma for getting coffee shots. Needless to say I have some great tea footage. For now I just want you to see the Tea fields of Northern Burundi as captured by Brandon and his super sweet Cannon.

PTI partners with G-Shep in earnest

Well done team G-shep!

Good and faithful friends. Trina and I were truly blessed by your visit. A huge thanks to Ryan, Blake, Kim, and Kathy. Through sickness and almost-heath these guys really blessed the Burundian youth, and PTI members as well as Trina and myself, for a little over a week. Each person bringing their individual gifts and personalities. I’m honored to call you all friends, and I’m proud of the work you did here, and how you assisted Trina at PTI. I know Emmanuel feels the same, and as we drove back from the airport after dropping you off, we talked about how great it was to have you, and how we can continue to nurture a thriving mutually beneficial relationship in the future with more visits, deeper relationships, and quality bonding and mutual learning. Trina and I truly believe Good Shepherd, and PTI can sharpen each other in so many ways. To come all the way to Burundi and share yourselves, your work, and your stories, proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Good Shepherd loves the youth of Burundi and wants to be in a meaningful relationship with them, beyond talk and empty western promises, but rather real genuine love, in person. Jean drove his moped all the way out to the airport to see off the Good shepherd team, and almost missed them as they passed through security. I thanked him for driving out to see off our team. He was sad to see them go, and many don’t know that driving a little moped all the way out to the airport is quite a dangerous thing, not to mention expensive because of fuel costs, and the fact that he makes barely any money at all, so that showed me a lot of the impact that the team had on the local staff at PTI. There is no end to the depths and dangers of one of the richest churches and cultures in the world partnering with the poorest and I truly hope we can embrace the challenge whole hearted and make mistakes and learn together. I can’t thank Good Shepherd and the team enough. Real quick favorite moments:

Lot’s of favorite moments with Ryan, doctors office with the Mohamad. Hangin’ at rainbow with Ryan and Blake when they were both really sick “down south.” Ryan using fans in ways he’s never done before. Ryan, Kim, and Blake, all laying in the front room sick, as we rehashed 1.3 for the mutual edification of us all. Numerous car rides searching for aggressive carries. Watching Kathy teach all those Burundians as they stared at her relentlessly, also watching Kathy take such a keen interest in our friends here, wanting to learn all about them. Watching Ryan Blake and Kim play volleyball, even though they were barely healthy, and not quite recovered from what I think was some of their least pleasant illnesses they’ve sustained in life. Watching Ryan walk after four days of being in country.
You guys are great, make sure you greet all the staff for us, and ryan, keep the weight off. P90X baby.

Two years ago today, I arrived in Burundi. I’m writing this on march 16th , 2009. On the same date in 2007, Trina and I walked off the Kenya airways plane onto the Bujumbura International Airport runway. It was super hot and muggy. Tambry and Dan Brose were with us on that flight. We knew we were going to live in this country two years, that there was no way we were going to leave early. My mind was full of thoughts, I didn’t know what sort of decision I had made and I missed many friends and family… second guessing myself is habit and I made sure to do it a lot.
Sara Matthews drove us to our house after some hugs and handshakes at the airport. We still live at the same house, and Lizzy and Doug who greeted us at the airport, helped get us adjusted, and would later become great friends. It’s been an interesting journey, of learning, successes, failures, and constant adventure of sorts in the way of travels, interesting dilemmas, and social events that are just not normal in the States. I was talking with one of my oldest friends here (Brando, and oldest in the sense length of time, not age) just yesterday, talking about how we were as artists when we first arrived, excited about everything, a sponge, constantly learning, barely keeping our cameras in their cases, and how now, we’re much more reserved, taking out the camera less and less. Less keen on traveling unless we get something we’re really looking for. We talked about how we’re not blogging as much, do to a loss of novelty of things we daily experience. I realized in that moment, that I was 2 years in country, we were in a sense, old school. We had seen many people come and go, we had been in the trenches, and learned tons. Burundi is one of the most eccentric universities in the world and we were sophomores, when most people dropped out before their freshman year ended. I was thinking how I have to blog in the moment, if I don’t I just loose my excitement, how life is now normalized. When I first arrived, everybody was new, I had to make an effort to meet people again. I had to learn how to use a phone all over again, and a sim card. I learned how to text, which I’d never done before in the States. Language lessons, cultural studying. I remember walking into the capital of Burundi, before I bought a car, exploring the streets, trying to talk to people, nervous, scared of the unknown, watching my back constantly. I remember changing my U.S. Dollars into Burundi Francs, and thinking how cool it was that that was something I would have to do every couple weeks. I remember thinking, every local I meet is an opportunity to learn things I would never be able to learn in the States. Everything was new and exciting and ambiguous. I remember taking my French English dictionary with me everywhere, looking up words on signs and stores, so I could figure out what was inside before I would enter. I remember shopping for the first time, getting prices from locals, and learning how to barter. I’ve seen friends marry, and friends die.
It was a new life, and I was excited to enter into it everyday. Now this city is home. Nothing is new, it’s all very normal, even crazy things. I’ve lost my new eyes, I’m made judgments about things, I’ve been burned a bunch, I’ve been blessed a bunch. Almost nothing is news worthy. I rarely feel like changing money. I don’t like my phone, I don’t like driving in the city, except by motor bike. There are so many things I do like, but I find I don’t blog about them… not like I used to do. I looked up my journal for my first couple of entries to see what I was thinking two years ago. Turns out I wrote a quick paragraph my third day here. I thought I’d share a few of my early journals in honor of our two year anniversary in Burundi, they are nothing exciting. In fact they are boring. But I laugh as I read them on so many levels. Mainly because I see how new I was, even though at the time, I thought I was unique in so many ways, I thought I new more than most new people. But my journal entries, are just like every blog I’ve read of people who come here and begin writing instantly whether they are here for a brief period or a long time. It’s fascinating how we all take the same road… and yet very strange. Sheep comes to mind.

March 18th 2007

It’s my third day in Africa. I arrived in Bujumbura on march 16th 2007. It hasn’t quite been a year since I quit working for Scott, and I think it’s been the best decision in my life to change direction from simply working to fund my lifestyle, without challenging myself, just existing to pay bills, and fund a social life. I couldn’t have done it without Trina though. I’ve met a lot of people here in Burundi, and they are all similar to me in more ways than usual encounters in the States. The Canadians I’ve met are Kyle, Brandon, Doug, Deanna. Some Britts, Simon, Lizzie, Duncan. ane from Scottland, and Benidicta from Norway. All of them have exceeded my expectations, and I’m forgetting a few other people now, but I’ve only just met them. It’s been super hot, and I worry about the Sony. I hope the equipment works well here, but I’m skeptical. Today is day one of work and we’re going to the office feeling anxious, like I’m in over my head.

March 24th 2007
One week in. We went to a Burundi “end of a week of mourning” gathering at the wife of Elehud. He (Elehud) died almost two weeks prior, cause of death unknown, but lots of suggestions. The atmosphere was more jovial than I would have expected. The family served us a meal, and some drinks. I had a lime soda drink called citron. The food was fried banana in a red oily sauce with three chunks of meat. Trina had a small cooked cockroach in her dish, which caused us to laugh a bit. There were about 30 of us that gathered. I was one of 5 bazungu. We sang and prayed, and read scripture, and hugged, gave appropriate financial gifts to the widow and just tried to spend time with her in her grief. The wife of Elehud seemed to be doing remarkably well. Of course Dan Brose is amazing in all these cultural contexts and is highly respected by all. It’s a privilege to watch him. He’s the Pat Thurman of Burundi in social contexts, then a brilliant entrepreneur, humble servant, and a wise teacher… Tambry is a mother Teresa with spunk, a great mind, youthful zeal, and too many other gifts to list… not to get too complementarian, but she is “the hostess with the most-est.” I’ve shot very little, and am learning very much. I have to start editing soon, lest I forget all I’ve learned about my editing software. Plus, it will be enlightening, learning if laptops and film editing will be possible in this heat, humidity, and dust.

March 27th
Had a meeting with Desire the security officer for world relief. He said a new group of gorilla force is forming under Radjabu and uniting with the “friends of Rwanda” group. Radjabu was high in the winning party’s parliament, and was disposed by the President, and now has raise 20 million, and is supposedly hiring local poor taxi driver and delivery boys to take bombs into as many public/govt/church buildings and create death and terror. I remember it seeming quite odd, listening to the Logistics officer. I noticed though Trina had lots of questions, she stayed remarkably calm, and didn’t seem to worry much after the briefing. She’s amazing that one.

April 15th
Almost a month in Africa. Just got back from Rwanda, we stayed in a lake front cabin on lake Kivu, sort of a weekend team getaway together. There was no electric or water. We brought water with us, and bathed in the lake. There were excellent thunderstorms, and I read Chronicles of Narnia, as the thunder echoed across the canyon. We went with Sara, Tambry, Aaron, Austin, and we met the Vinton family, a missionary family from Congo. They were great. They had some impressive stories. We played risk, read lots, swam lots, ran, hiked, and watched movies on Sue Vinton’s laptop. It was charged by a battery that Bill Vinton bought illegally in Congo. The battery was high quality and super heavy. Monkeys played in the front yard, and there were pretty exotic birds hanging out as well. I read, “A horse and his boy”, and “Prince Caspian.” I studied French. It only took three hours to drive to the cabin because the road on the Rwanda side is now paved. On my last trip in 2005, it took all day to drive to the same location because of the rain, and the bad road at the time. Rwanda is developing fast. I think in time, this region of Rwanda will be a resort town.
April 29th
It’s Sunday, two days after I turned 30. I’ve been here a month and a half, and this is the first time that I don’t feel sick for one week straight. I think my body has adjusted. We went on a huge road trip with the Brose’s to raft the Nile. It was very incredible. We passed a flipped semi truck, on our way to the Nile. Fantastic coffee shops in Rwanda. Things are going pretty well. French lessons are hilarious at the French cultural center. This place is crazy. A great birthday experience.
So nothing great right, but what I notice about myself through these early journals is that now, I’m much different in how I notice things. Admittedly a basic observation. But in moments in ones life, basic things become profound for a minute, then basic again. On every trip I take I see multiple accidents, some quite severe, mainly involving semi trucks, but I don’t comment on them at all in my journals or otherwise, I don’t talk about anything now, that I once would have. I know that’s natural, as places and happenings loose their novelty after time, but I do think we should fight this habit to let life loose novelty. Fight to record the seemingly normal, because I bet there is a lot we could learn, and we could challenge our natural instincts to become numb to most things. Easy to blog about… I wonder if I’ll actually do it.

The answer to how did I get here is sometimes Dan Brose

Before I left for Uganda, Trina told me she was invited to an international tennis tournament that the U.S. Ambassador was holding. When I got back from Uganda, I was shattered… because the road from Burundi to Uganda is really long, and hard to describe, if you haven’t done it. Any long drive in Africa will take it out of you, and this was one of those. When I arrived back in Bujumbura at about five pm, nobody was home, and I was locked out. I was thinking Trina may still be at work. After some time, I managed to get into the house, and have a bite to eat as I waited for the belle. About an hour later I hear trina’s truck pull up, and I go out to have a proper greet. She’s cheerfully walking up the yard, with tennis bag, and racket in tow. I ask her where she’s been and she said she just won her first match in the tournament.
Now this isn’t the first tournament Trina has played in during our time in Burundi. It’s like… the third or fourth. And I don’t care that she hasn’t won, or made it to the finals in these tournaments mainly because, she’s too good to play against girls, so she’s always playing these big Burundians who are twice her size, and are many times stronger, and she just looks so cute out there playing against these guys. Like this helpless small creature fighting these huge creatures, but you notice… “wow, that little creature has some punch… too bad she’s so small, when compared to these other guys.” Now Trina is a fierce optimist, and occasionally she says something like, “I may make it to the finals this time.” I don’t mind that… if she does, great, if not… great. She loves tennis, and she’s blessed to be able to play. She’s good at tennis, and it’s good for her to have a tension/stress relieving mechanism… and tennis by all accounts is a good mechanism.
Jim wins everything when it comes to tennis tournaments here, and that’s just fine. He’s our friend, and I think he’s originally from Minnesota but I’m not positive. Trina and I really like Jim, and we have him over from time to time, and he has us over. He’s here on a mission too, and we always have lots to talk about. Jim was invited to the tournament, just like Trina, and we all suspected Jim would win. Before Trina played her next match, she said something like: “I may play Jim in the finals.” I thought… why would she want to play Jim, there is no chance she could win. But of course it’s not all about winning. What’s it about again? I can never remember.
Now, if you are in this tennis tournament, you are allowed to invite two guests to the ambassadors house to have some snacks, and a bar-b-que and some drinks, and watch the finals of the international tournament. The ambassador, and her husband would be there, some distinguished guests, from other embassy’s and countries. I happened to be one of Trina’s invites, which was cool, and the other invite was Trina’s coach. I took a sigh of relief as I realized I barely made it onto the invite list, as Trina has many fans. I was surprised and delighted to see my friend Chris from the South African Embassy show up to watch the match as I hadn’t seen him in a while. I don’t have to tell you Trina made it to the finals do I… Trina made it to the finals. And she was nervous.
Before we go to the Ambassador’s house, I always ask things like: What do I call the Ambassador again… is it your honor? Or Madam Ambassador? Or your Excellency? Trina says yes to all three because she’s nervous, and it’s not a priority at this time to tell me how to address the ambassador, and I take mild offense to that but have enough grace not to get mad. She’s too concerned about the tennis match, and she says things like. “I’m so nervous.” I gracefully remind her. “Don’t worry, you’re going to loose… and when I know I’m going to loose, I find that thought very freeing.” Sometimes it’s weird when people get mad at you for telling the truth. Trina couldn’t believe how insensitive her truthful husband was, but I was honestly trying to share knowledge that works for me. When I know I will loose, I’m completely calm, and enjoy my loosing. It’s not about winning, it’s how you enjoy the loosing. Right? The loose mentality is a win win. If by some chance you actually win, well that’s great… you didn’t see that coming, so you’re excited. And if you loose… well that’s what you expected. No problems… it’s a win win either way. Trina just refused to see it, I can forgive her for that.
At the embassadors party, I felt very important. I said important and meaningless things to important people. I went from one important conversation to the next. I was dressed smart, and was on my game. I wasn’t king on the scene, but I wasn’t the court jester either… and after a while, I camped out next to the honey mustard pretzels. The ambassador gets American foods shipped out, and I hardly ever get to eat the American way, so I OD’d on the pretzels, then after a while, I realized I was missing the game because I was consumed with the pretzels. All the important people had moved courtside, and there was an empty seat for the husband of Trina. Shoot! I told myself to calm down and take a few breaths, “you’re not an idiot Seth. This could have happened to anyone. You just got side tracked by the pretzels again… no big thing. Pull yourself together, and get your butt in that empty chair, as casually as possible… and plan an important line, to say to the important people next to you.” Check.
I worked my way to the chair, dropped in, and said to the guy next to me. “Trina’s got a great fore-hand… good top spin.” Check and mate.
Trina did better than I expected. She still lost, and that’s okay. It was fun to see all eyes on Trina, playing her heart out. The ambassador, and others cheering her on, enjoying the match, that Trina and Jim put on for us. I was proud of the little belle out there. And there were a couple of close games too. It was a moment when you wonder… how did I get here. I have a lot of moments like that these days, and I really love it.

recent observations

Couple of things. I’m making spaghetti while listening to BBC world. The headline is “d day” it’s January 5th, and I wondered what it was about. The news reporter went on how it is divorce day, the most popular day of the year for divorce. Reason being, the stress of the Christmas holiday! They had a divorce lawyer from Manchester on the phone for an interview. The lawyer talked about the long line outside his office of people wanting divorces, and how busy this time of year is for him. They estimated that 1.3 million people will get divorced in the U.K. alone. I was fascinated, and I stopped my food preparations and zeroed in on the radio. Over and over, they said the stress of the holiday, they even said the global financial crisis will instigate far more divorces than the past years, and that this will be a record year for divorce and break ups. I wish they opened up the news story for callers to weigh in with thoughts, but they never did. I was wondering what you all thought about “d day” and if you were aware of the phenomenon. Now, I’ve always been a bit blown away by the material nature of the Christmas season, and now hearing that the stress of this holiday results in mass divorce… dumbfounded. A penny for your thoughts?

Second thing, Obama is a phenomenon in East Africa if not all of Africa. I see his image everywhere I go. He is all over African clothes, cars, buildings, houses, streets, signs, merchant stands, everything. Tanzanians love him, Burundians love him, Nigerians love him, Rwandans love him, Kenyans… forget about it. Today I noticed a sound bite of Obama come on the radio whilst I was walking in Buj, and Burundians flock to the closest radio to listen to what he says even though they don’t really understand English. They flag me down to explain to them what Obama said. I take a few minutes to explain to them what the Obama sound bite was about as it was sort of obscure for Burundians to understand as it had to do with the 109 year old African American woman who voted and how she was alive a generation after slavery, and they explode into animated discussion, and pepper me with all sorts of questions about American history, and Obama, and money. They were furious when I said there was a time in the States when Africans couldn’t vote. Most of you are aware that the day Obama was elected has become a national holiday in Kenya. I was talking with some friends about this, and they told me that when parliament convened to make it a national holiday, there was a brief moment when they wondered why they should make it a holiday. Nobody put forth a very compelling reason but one member of parliament piped up: “Nigeria made it a two day national holiday” shortly after that comment, Kenya made it official. A few friends of mine in Kenya attending school laughed as they remembered getting out of school because Obama was elected. The whole nation, I’m talking Kenya, not America, went absolutely nuts. Kenyas’ son is Americas’ president.

Meanwhile in Burundi the small American community is torn. Some people think it’s America’s demise, others think Obama is America’s salvation. This seems to be normal behavior amongst Americans during any election. One thing is for sure: America is loved abroad again. Not in Palistine, and some middle eastern nations, but in Europe, in Africa, where Bush and America were once bad words never to be uttered (Bush still seems to be a bad word never to be uttered), now it’s all about the hope of America, it’s all changed simply because Obama is president. Every one of my European friends love Obama. In my life so far, I’ve never experienced this degree of positive American sentiment from the rest of the world. It always catches me off guard. I would never want to be Obama just for that reason. The global expectations on that guy, are unfair, and just plain not reasonable. Still, it’s far better to be loved than hated, obviously, but Obama is just a man, and to put so much faith in man, is always foolhearty. The good news though is when you follow a guy that unanimously, I think there is a lot of grace for when things don’t happen as intended. The world of Africa and Europe, seem unshakably hopeful. America and Canada as well, and I would imagine South America, and Mexico, though that’s just a guess. So buy your plane tickets fellow Americans, now is the time to travel abroad... except for the global econocmic crisis.

walking home

Saw two really poor kids as I walked home from dropping off Simons’ motorcycle on Sunday. I killed the battery so I had to fix the situation. So these two kids see a me coming, and it’s not long before they run up to me to ask for money… it was one of those times that I made the decision before I saw them that I wasn’t going to give any money. I had two 10 thousands in my wallet, and someone would steal it from them, plus there were many kids around and they’d all come flocking… and I gave some money to a Congolese refugee just an hour earlier, and I told myself that I already gave today… but that never works. The interesting thing is when the poorest people in the world come ask me for money, the first thing I think is how much I will get judged for not giving any money, or giving just a little bit of money. That because I’m now aware, now I've seen with my own eyes how bad, bleak, and desperate, most people on the planet live each day, I’m now in more trouble because I have knowledge, and money. I can’t play the: “I didn’t realize things were that bad” card. That’s a major card to have taken away, I keep thinking many of us in the West will try and play that card. I’m sure we all know it will never work, but that’s not the point. We think it might work if we bank on the grace card, and that’s all we need to give us daily peace of mind… and it’s peace of mind that we need to maintain a level of happiness in life, and all these abundantly poor, are keeping me from having comfort in my card, which is messing with my happiness. But these two kids have something I’ve not seen before. Each of them, in their hand carried a dead bird. I’m talking about one of those little birds that fly around in trees and bushes, and they tweet, and I remember thinking those are really small birds, you can’t eat those birds. So I asked them, “what are you going to do with those birds?” Of course they said they’re going to eat the birds. I felt really bad, and regretted asking. It was better if I just suspected they might eat the birds, but didn’t know for sure, but now I knew that they were so starved that they were going to eat these little birds that I thought were inedible. They kept walking with me and asking for money, and I kept wondering, “how hungry do I have to be in order to eat a bird like that?” I thought that I would eat grass, or leaves, before I’d eat a dirty little bird like that. I couldn’t figure out how they managed to kill those little birds. Neither of them had a home made sling shot and each bird wasn’t much bigger than a pebble that you sling at the bird to kill it. After about a hundred meters, the kids gave up trying to get money out of me, and they left me alone with my thoughts. For some reason, I pushed the guilt away and thought about my brother. I don’t know why, I just remember wondering about what he was doing. I pictured him framing a house in Bozeman, Montana, in the cold. Then I was wishing that I was back in America, but for a new reason that I never had before. I wanted to be in the States because I thought it was much easier to avoid everything there… I didn’t pin point what “everything” was, but I felt it, and I thought, “if I was in the States, I could avoid everything.” Then I thought that avoiding everything isn’t death, avoiding everything is a coma. It’s deciding to be brain dead to the world around you. I knew you could do that anywhere. I didn’t have to go to the States, but as soon as I realized that, that is what I wanted, I decided that was just stupid. Where do those thoughts come from anyway? Why is my mind doing that to me? So went I got home,I went into the kitchen, and poured myself a cold iced tea, then I went to the lab and loaded up a bunch of video footage, and started editing. I edited for a few hours until my mind could only think about the video I was making. It was a more comfortable thinking process. I guess I was self medicating. I’ll see those kids again. I know I will.