Dinner with the Fathers

Last week, Katy and I were invited over to the priests' house for dinner. There are four fathers that live in the compound attached to the huge church down the road from us. To get there, it is about a 15 minute walk around to the other side of the valley. The views of the mountains and the level ground make it a very pleasant walk. Our first visit with the fathers several weeks before had left us eager to go back again, mostly because of the good company, but also because we knew we would get a good meal with meat and Fanta or beer on the menu. This was a welcome change to the lonely, meatless, beverageless meals we normally have that.

The first part of our visits are spent in the priests' sitting room with Father Charles. The room is crowded with several cushioned couches and chairs, covered in leopard print material, each back draped with a lace fringed, doily, embroidered with bright pink flowers. On the walls are four large faded prints, two South American looking Madonnas, one very Caucasian Jesus, and a scene of an African Jesus and a few of his disciples. They also have a TV! (we've been told that we'll be invited over to watch World Cup games with them!!) This time, we were also joined by the household cat…Pusi. (The Kinyarwanda word for cat is ipusi and every cat I've ever heard of here has the name Pusi). Katy and I are both animal lovers and were giving the cat a lot of attention. While we were talking, she jumped up on my lap, made a little nest in my skirt, and curled up to receive some loving. Father Charles thought it was the funniest thing ever. "It is your baby!" he said, "now it will not like me anymore!" Apparently the cats here are all really friendly and like to attach themselves to people. My friend Emma's headmaster, Father Jean-Claude is followed around everywhere by the cat that lives at their house. When he teaches, it follows him into the classroom. Emma said that one day he left after teaching and the cat got shut in the classroom while she was teaching. It kept clawing at the window until 15 minutes later when Father Jean-Claude stuck his head in the door. "Come on Pusi," he said. The cat bounded over, slipped out the door and happily pranced behind the headmaster as he went about his business.

On this visit, we sat for about an hour or two, trying to keep up with the Fantas that were set before us. After this they announced that dinner was ready. By this time, the other fathers had arrived. We still aren't very well acquainted with two of the priests, but we are very close with Father Charles and had recently met Father Bonadventure (on our ride down to Mukinga). Father Bonadventure is just about the jolliest person that I've ever met. He laughs like Santa…bowl full of jelly and all. He's always smiling and if Rwandans could have rosy cheeks, his would be the roundest and rosiest of all.

But it is Father Charles that Katy and I adore. He is one of the first people that we met at Rwaza. While waiting for dinner, we told him about an assignment that Sister Blandine had given her religion class. She asked them to draw a picture of God. At first the students protested. "You cannot draw a picture of God!" they said. "He is everywhere and you can't know what he looks like." Sister Blandine explained that God can look like different things to different people at different times. "You might see God when you look at a flower, or a friend" she said. When we told Father Charles this, he said "I would draw a kind Father. He would have a gray beard and he would be very caring and have his hands out towards his children." That statement is about the only description that you need of Father Charles. Minus the gray beard. He is young, he has only been a priest for 2 years and Rwaza is his first placement. He calls the 570 girls at Rwaza his daughters, and essentially that is what they are. They only get to see their families a few weeks out of the school year, but he acts as their father while they are here. He joins in with the basketball and volleyball teams while they practice. It's the same image as an American father tossing the ball with his children on the front lawn. Whenever he comes to the school, he always stops by the classrooms to talk with the students. He gives them hugs, jokes with them, and asks about their studies and families and problems. On Saturday evenings he brings over a movie to play on the sheet/screen in the theatre. This is a treat that most secondary students don't get to enjoy, but Father Charles believes in having some pleasure mixed in with work. In a culture where the feelings and thoughts of children are rarely considered by adults, Father Charles is a rarity.

One of the main topics over dinner was when we will next be able to visit with Father Charles. He has been at Rwaza for almost two years, and for a new priest, that is a long time to stay in one spot. He was informed a few weeks ago that he will be transferred to a parish in Kigali. None of his "daughters" know yet that he is leaving; he will wait to tell them until after their exams are finished. When Katy and I told him that we were upset that he was leaving, he said, "yes, it is sad, but I will be going to a place where I am needed. And it is better that when you leave people cry rather than rejoice." I think that this is probably a pretty good proverb to live by. Katy and I are making that our motto for our time in Rwaza. We're hoping for tears rather than cheers at our absence. One of our first steps towards this will be to try and fill the place that Father Charles will leave. They're big shoes to fill.