I met a boy today named John de Dieu. He is 8 years old and has a contagious laugh, one that caught me by suprise. He was painfully shy when I first introduced myself, not that I blame him. His family rarely sees foreign visitors in their remote village, and most certainly has never had one pay a personal visit. I asked John what his favorite sport was, despite already knowing the answer: football. He plays with the other school children, fabricating the sports equippment out of dried bananna leaves. Very resourceful. I think schools in Canada should incorporate similar Maple Leaf craftings into their PE curriculum (as long as kids are warned to leave the nuts on the ground). (I can already picture the headlines: 'Rising Squirrel Attacks on Primary School Children as an Educational Tool?'). Every idea has its downfalls. There are no squirrels in Africa.
John's parents were delightful, especially his dad. He ran to get me a small wooden bench from the bedroom. We sat on it and chatted for a couple of hours, discussing his life here and my life in Canada. Neither himself, his wife nor his three children had ever heard of snow, and I relished the opportunity to describe Vancouver sledding at Christmas time. The family asked a few questions and then started laughing. They explained that they also go 'sledding' here, except they use dirt as snow, and bananna leaves as their sleds! I was astounded. In the short while I have been here, I have witnessed MANY uses of bananna leaves. They serve as footballs, sleds, roof coverings, umbrellas, animals feed, brooms and even mattress stuffers. That puts even ducktape to shame.
Before leaving John's house, I told him I was going to be his sponsor sister. I wanted him to know that the letters he would receive from Canada, the stickers, the pictures etc. came from someone who really cared about his life. I was happy that I had been able to see him here. That when I returned home I could picture him living life in Rwanda, chasing around a leafy ball at recess, sliding down muddy hills on a green sled... After several hugs and photos, John's father asked if I would like to see inside their house before leaving. I nodded. We entered a dark room. The coals on the floor told me it was the kitchen. The single photo hung by a frayed string told me it was the family room. The straw mat on the floor told me it was the bedroom. I thanked him for the visit. He insisted I take their sole family photo with me- to remember them.
As I think back over my day in Rwanda, I can picture my little brother giggling as I take his photo and even more so as I hug him goodbye. I know he will like the new picture of his family that I will soon send from Canada. It will most likely be hung on the small string beside their kitchen, in their family room and over the small mat shared by 5 people. I think about this for a while and curl up on my bed. Suddenly I wish my bed were a little bit smaller.
