Learning to be thankful

I don't know exactly why but for the past few months, one recurrent thought has been on my mind. It is something I had never thought of before, until one late October night talk with my friends (and new shrinks, lol) Angela and Harmonie. And what I've been thinking about is what Dirk Gently would call "The fundamental interconnectedness of all things", or in my own words: How everything that has happened in our lives and in our world to this moment, is the reason we are who we are today, or even the reason that we are, quite simply. 

You know, things happen to us. And in the moment that they do, we're not able to fully appreciate them, because we don't fully understand them. They become (in our eyes) our moments of failure, our deepest regrets, the things we wish we could change if given the chance. And we also feel like this about things that don't directly happen to us but end up affecting our lives. Sometimes we wonder why they happen, sometimes we get angry at the universe. And those of us who believe in God increasingly feel that maybe He's not as powerful as He is said to be, or maybe He's just a sadistic Being who enjoys watching our blunders and our suffering without so much as lifting the little finger.

I was one of those people for quite a long time (I'm still learning how not to be anymore but I'll get to that in a while). But lately I've forced myself to look back on my life and a new truth has dawned on me: that the best version of myself right now and the best things I've gotten out of life were all a product of every single moment and event that has taken place since times I cannot even begin to fathom. I realize this is extremely cliché and not exactly a new discovery, but it is both new and very true for me. 

For example, I've realized that despite having grown up without knowing a significant number of relatives from both my immediate and extended family who lost their lives during the genocide, I wouldn't exist in the first place were it not for that dark chapter in my country's history. My dad was born in exile. For more than 20 years he lived without a country to call his own, and that void in his heart led to him entering the RPA, becoming an officer, and finding himself in Rwanda by the early 90s. My mother's troubled schooling as a result of discrimination led her to study nursing. Somehow by April 1994 she was in Kigali, and as the genocide raged on, God led her to find refuge in the Parliament Building (CND) where she used her skills to care for wounded soldiers and survivors. That is how she met my father, fell in love, and they got married at the end of the genocide. And even though he died in a car crash only a few months after their marriage, on Christmas Eve 1994, I was already on the way. I would be born six months later.

See my point? I was deeply-albeit indirectly-affected by the genocide. Hardly a day passes that I don't think about all those relatives whom I'll never know, who will never be there to share my successes and comfort me in my moments of failure and disappointment. I often find myself thinking about all those shattered ambitions, hopes, and dreams. But I also realize that I am alive and here because of that. I could cry about growing up fatherless (and believe me, it's frustrating) but I know this has made me appreciate the full extent of my mother's strength, resilience and incredible love for me; and I love her more and more with each passing day.

There is more. My best and biggest 2016 moments are the two and a half months I just spent touring the USA as part of iDebate Rwanda. I had a one of a kind experience seeing new places, meeting people from all walks of life (the whole diversity spectrum), challenging them and being challenged in return on a constant basis, seeing firsthand lives being changed by our message, crying and laughing so much it was exhausting, and KAYAKING yaaay 🙌!! These are memories I'm not likely to forget anytime soon, but you know what? They are the products of a colossal mistake I made five years ago; a mistake that I considered my biggest regret for a long time.

Back in 2011, I was preparing to enter high school. I had just finished Junior High at one of the best schools in the country (GSO Butare) and had been admitted to yet another school among the best (Lycée de Kigali) for a History-Economics-Geography combination. I chose instead to stay at GSO Butare and do sciences (Physics-Chemistry-Biology). My mother strongly advised me against that decision but I was stubborn as a donkey. But by the end of the year, having struggled to stay above the 50% mark in physics and with a fail mention in chemistry, I realized too late that sciences weren't meant for me, and that I should change the combination. The next year I tried to enroll at the school I had refused and they returned the favor. I ended up going to APE Rugunga, a school with a not-so-rosy reputation. I also had to retake the year because I would be studying in a new combination.

I was ashamed, feeling like a disappointment, and extremely angry at myself. But let me tell you what happened: I flourished at that school. I became Editor-in-chief of the school magazine and held leadership positions in various student organizations. But most importantly it was there that I met Jean-Michel Habineza, a man who has become the single most influential figure in my life, and the best freaking mentor anyone could ask for. He introduced me to debate, an activity that made me discover my passion for words and made me understand their power. I quickly fell in love with it. He saw potential in me and challenged me to see it too, entrusted me with projects and pushed me to heights I had never even thought I could reach. He believed in me in moments when I didn't believe in myself, and he still does, even when I give him every reason not to. And thanks to him I went from debating to judging, to coaching, to coordinating the Kigali Debate League, to moderating panel discussions with some of the most influential people in Rwanda, to touring the US and debating some of the best teams there, to having rooms full of undergraduate and graduate students at some of the best universities there listen to what I had to say, when I myself had barely finished my first year in college. ALL THAT from a five-year-old mistake!

I look back at all of this, and so, so much more, and I realize that God is faithful. His Word reads in Romans 8:28 " And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God." I'm not sure I fit the description when I read " them that love God". I surely don't act like I do most of the time. But he has made it so that every happy moment and every sad one, every triumph and every failure, every tear of joy and every tear of sadness, every bit and aspect of my existence has woven itself into a labyrinth that has taken me to the place I'm in right now. And even though I know I still have a long way to go, I sure am proud of this place.

So yeah, I am learning to be thankful. And if you're reading this, I challenge you to look back on your own journey, think about every significant moment you can remember, every memory good or bad. Try and reflect on how each of those moments has shaped who you are today. And if you like what you see, be thankful too. And if you don't believe in a Higher Power, it's okay. Just try and learn to better appreciate life; and when those gloomy or troubled moments arrive, be patient and eagerly wait for that blessing that comes afterwards.

The Airplane Experience

[Written on the night of September 9th, 2016]

First off, let me just put it out there that I removed my shoes three times while still in Kigali’s airport. I didn’t like it one bit. But let’s begin from the beginning.

 Well, I didn’t sleep Wednesday night, I spent the whole night pressing my clothes and getting ready. I didn’t sleep on Thursday either because I spent the whole night obsessing over what might go wrong, what thing I might forget and all that; and let me just say, as a guy who forgot his passport on the day of his Visa interview, my fears weren’t that unfounded (yeah I know, I’m not proud of that particular feat). What I’m very proud of on the other end is the fact that I’m gonna spend almost three months on the road with just a carry on yo. Some of you must find it easy, but for someone who is going for that long and all over the place for the first time, I ain’t gonna let anyone mess the deep sense of accomplishment I’m feeling right now.

So yeah I got to the airport and met with the teammates and family and friends who had come to see us off and we prayed and got in. Now let’s go back to the moment after I had had my bag sniffed by dogs, x-rayed, hand searched (I don’t know what they expected to find), x-rayed again, x-rayed yet again, at which point I removed my shoes for the third time. We waited for a few minutes after that and then Gate 3 opened for us to board; and that is when the Airplane Experience begins, from my perspective of course.

The first element of the airplane experience is, of course, the mandatory selfie inthe airport lounge that you then post all over social media with a caption that I dub “The Ultimate Brag”. Case in point: check this out

View this post on Instagram

Finallyyyy 🙌🙌. 10 States, 16 cities, 17 universities 😎😎😎 say whattt?? @idebaterwanda #USTour2016 #grateful2God

A post shared by Bruce Intwali (@intwalibruce) on Sep 9, 2016 at 6:07am PDT

This is of course followed by one with the plane in the background, and we took some pretty neat ones. Then follows entering the plane, settling in and waiting for stage two of the Experience: Take Off. This is what they say about take-off: It gives you the fright of your life. What I got to see is that this statement is both false and true. False because instead of being frightened I was exhilarated. There are probably few physical sensations I love more than the little jump your stomach does when a car moving at high speed suddenly starts descending on a bit of steep slope, and today I got to learn that with a plane the sensation is 10 times more vivid. But the statement is also true for some, I learned it the hard way, with one of the teammates’ nails inches deep in the skin of my arm (and this wasn’t her first flight).

Stage three of the Airplane Experience is food: the unending stream of things to put in your mouth, some of them heavenly and some of them not (sorry Qatar Airways but that salad was horrible). Oh I almost forgot to talk about the flight attendants. One word: on fleek! Maybe it’s because this is my first flight, but I’m impressed. There’s this one guy, you would think he owns the plane. He just exudes self-confidence and assurance with his gait and easy, unforced smile, it took me a while to realize he was one of the people serving us. I’ll probably strike a conversation with him before I get off.

Now to Stage four of the Airplane Experience: the lavatory. The ultra small cabinet that’s occupied 90% of the time you wanna go there, so you just stand there waiting, and end up having a lively conversation with an Indian guy (I thought he was Indian, or maybe Bangladeshi or something… he was definitely from the Indian subcontinent) about the distance from Lagos to Kigali.

Now of course no Airplane Experience would be complete without Stage five: good old Turbulence. This son of a *** surely gives the creeps yo. It’s funny how the gentle voice of the captain telling you to buckle up, sets off screaming little monsters running amok in your brain. You keep telling yourself “It’s nothing man, you’re gonna be fine, most times it’s nothing right?”; then you hear that Gollum-like voice saying something like “Maybe this is one of those ssssometimes!”. Fortunately for us, it was one of those most times.

We get now to the sixth and last Stage of the Airplane Experience: sleep; or rather the absence thereof for me. Right now everyone around me is asleep and I’m here all bundled up in my blanket writing this post because I can’t close my eyes. Let’s hope by the time you read this tomorrow I’ll have slept on the Doha-JFK flight because if not then I’m screwed big time. To end this post, I’ll say this. I’m having a FREAKIIIING BLAAAST!!! That’s it from me folks. More posts will be coming in for the next 10 weeks. In the meantime check out these awesome photos me and Sharon have been taking

 

 

 

 

Confused

I don't know what to feel anymore. I don't know how to feel. You'll excuse me if by the end of this post you feel offended, hurt, attacked or something like that, but at this time I cannot afford to care about pleasing anyone's delicate sensibilities. I am speaking from the heart, and my heart is pretty messed up.

I am supposed to visit around 15 American universities from September to November as part of the team going for iDebate Rwanda's 3rd annual US Tour. This tour, the US Tour is supposed to be a journey. A journey in which we will share our story, a story of rebirth, a story of reconstruction, a story of how a group of youngsters is working to move past the adversity of their parents' generation and the terrible tragedy that arose from it. A story of how we are contributing to building a nation in which we and the generations after us are judged by the content of our character and not the ethnic group we were born in. This tour is supposed to be a journey in which we can inspire those with whom we interact to see our way, to do the same.

Lord knows how excited I was in January when I was selected. Lord knows the enthusiasm, the sheer joy, the anticipation that was bubbling in me these past months. And Lord knows, how in the space of 12 days all my hopes are now shattered. Lord knows, how confused and stricken I feel as I write this.

On June 26, I watched Jesse Williams deliver his moving speech denouncing racial inequality and police brutality as he accepted the Humanitarian Award, a speech in which he mentioned it would've been Tamir Rice's 14th birthday the previous day. The next day a petition was created to fire him from Grey's Anatomy, which now has 23,000 supporters. Part of the petition reads "Jesse Williams spewed a racist, hate speech against law enforcement and white people at the BET awards. If this was a white person making the same speech about an African American, they would have been fired and globally chastised, as they should be, but there have been no consequences to Williams' actions."

Barely a week later, Jesse has been proven right.

Now to the 4500 idiots who petitioned to have him fired from Grey's Anatomy, do you see his point??https://t.co/BPQ8HDbjmI

— Mwene Murangira (@IntwaliBruce) July 7, 2016

On July 5, Alton Sterling was shot 5 times in the chest and back after having been pinned on the ground by two cops. On July 6, Philando Castile was shot by a cop four times in the driver side of his car, with his girlfriend in the passenger seat and her daughter watching from the backseat. He died from his wounds later. And as always, a whole legion of people is now defending both homicides. In Alton's case, criminal records have been pulled out, people countlessly repeating that he had threatened someone earlier, that he was carrying a gun (in an open-carry state, hmm!). But is that the point though, because from my perspective, the point is that he had been subdued. The point is that two videos amply show he wasn't reaching for his gun which an officer pulled from his pocket after he was shot. The point is that he was shot at as close a range as close range can get and the officer had multiple choices of non-fatal places to shoot at, the arms for example. The point is that he chose to point the gun at the chest and shoot twice, wait a few seconds, then shoot again three times. And what of Castile? is the point that he had a gun? Or that he was reaching for his pockets? Or is the point that he had informed the cop that he WAS carrying a gun (for which he had a permit by the way) and that he wanted to retrieve his ID, which the officer had just asked?

This tour is supposed to be about teaching and learning. But how do you talk to someone who doesn't want to listen, how do you teach someone who doesn't want learn? How am I supposed to feel when a petition to fire someone for pointing out the very same things that happened in the last three days has increased in supporters from 23,216 when I started writing this post to 23,262 in the minutes it took me to write these lines? What is the purpose of me going, if it will all have been in vain?

There is no lesson or moral to this post, those are for you to find or not. I am just pouring my heart out. I am crying for those lost souls. And if you are asking yourself why two dead African-Americans would matter so much to an African, ask yourself what prompted you to be Charlie, to pray for Paris, and to cry for Brussels.

Can You Hear Me Cry

Can you hear me cry?

A question that nags at me

Every night and day 

As I sleep and wake, oh wait!

I don't do that anymore.

Can you hear me cry?

A question that torments my mind

Whose answer I cannot find

Because there's none to be found

Because apparently, you do,

And apparently, you don't.

Do you feel my pain 

When my sons and daughters,

My treasure and gold

Are slaughtered and maimed like in the days of old?

Do you feel my sorrow

When you turn my predicament into a trend

To like, and repost 

To share and retweet

And go on with your life 

Like nothing happened

Yes! Like nothing happened

See, you...see them floating down rivers

You see them thrown into pits

You see them lying in the streets

But it doesn't get to you, does it?

Coz let's face it, TIA

This Is Africa

It also happened in our countries at one point

Didn't it?

So we scroll past their pictures

And we feel more pity for Paris

Hell, we declare national mourning days for Charlie

Has anyone heard of a mourning day for December 12th?

My name is Burundi

And today I'm calling on you

To not care for my orphans 

But to stop them from becoming orphans

To not rebuild my shattered self

But to protect what I've accomplished myself

To not let 'Never again'

Turn into 'Again and Again'

My name is Burundi

And this is not a poem

This is a cry for help

#iStandForBurundi

On a personal note:

1. Bad things happen when good men do nothing (Martin Luther King)

2. Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter (Martin Luther King)

3. The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis (Dante: The Divine Comedy)

Call To Arms

NB: This is a reblog

These words can be interpreted in many different ways but they all usually converge in an invitation to prepare for confrontation.

Today, I raise my voice and let out one such a call together with the people of Burundi, a nation at the heart of Africa, (Africa’s very own ventricle to be precise) and more so a nation in the heart of those of us who see the atrocities happening there every day. For too long now, young and old alike have been victims of unrest, violence, and massacres that have resulted from political tensions in the nation.

I raise my voice in the name of Bujumbura’s sons and daughters whose lives have been cut short and those whose tomorrow is more unsure than ever. I raise my voice to call you all to join me in confronting the status quo.

In times like these, when all we hear and see is bad news, in times when the headlines start sounding normal, the world tends to divide itself into two schools: the dreamers and the realists. There are those of us who will chant “We are the world” and tell ourselves something can be done for a better tomorrow and those of us who will be more skeptical and spend more time asking ourselves what difference our input can truly make in the face of such evil grandeur.

Today, while many of us are trying to find the label that fits best on what is going in Burundi, and while we are trying to find what best defines the situation in Bujumbura many lives are being lost. While we are trying to understand what is going on, the victims of these inhumane acts are trying to understand what is happening to them as well. So to those of you wondering what in the world you can do to make a difference here is a starting point:

You can start by acknowledging what is happening and maybe sharing it with someone one and striking the conversation. When I say sharing I don’t necessarily mean shocking. I don’t necessarily mean spreading the image of the conflict in all its graphic nature, courtesy of the era of technology we live in like I have been seeing on Facebook but the need for many to use such means only accentuates the desperation behind the situation. I understand you may not be able to look through those post but talk about what is happening through your own medium and let the world know that you do not stand with injustice wherever it is being carried out. (If by now you still have no idea what I am talking about, please take a minute and look up what is happening in Burundi. Viewer’s discretion may be advised given the explicitness of some pictures I see around sometimes). My point here is though, while you might not see what you can do to make a difference, someone in your circle may or someone in their circle may. No single individual may make a difference but maybe collectively we can give Burundi the peace of mind she’s been seeking and her children the break they’ve longed for.

So, Call To Arms is addressed to everyone out there who receives this. What can you do to add on to the growing movement for the support of Burundi? How will you fight the widespread mindset that when evil abounds in the world, there is nothing we can do about it? I choose to call onto all those who are ready to confront this ideology and hope that everyone in their way will call onto more. To those who ask me what I hope to achieve by just raising my against an evil that has persisted in the face of many before me, my response is that I stand to achieve more than I would, by sitting back indifferent to what I see.

In the midst of all the darkness and painful realities of today, I do not want to compete with Paris, San Bernadino, Syria, Bamako and Tunis for the spotlight. On the contrary, let's share it and shine it onto the darkness that freely roams around our homes.

When you hear me saying Pray for Burundi, I am not asking you to stop praying for Paris or Syria nor am I rallying up forces for a larger ‘campaign’ than yours. No! I am instead saying, let’s pray for Paris, pray for Syria, pray for Bamako, pray for Tunis, pray for San Bernadino, pray for Burundi and pray for everyone that needs it out there but then again let's raise our voices and pray out loud if that’s what it takes.

A LETTER TO THE ELDERS

I've heard it called many names

It's called The Divide, the  Rift

The 'Generation Conflict'

It's the new Cold War

A war whose victims are often labeled as initiators

A war whose victims' pain is often dismissed as tantrums

I've seen the damage that's being done

And became convinced it's time

Someone said 'Enough is enough'

Whatever happened to 'Lead by Example?'

Or maybe it's because you do?

You wonder why your boys walk around with colts

When they grow up watching Boyz N the Hood

And violence is glamorized by Hollywood, Bollywood, Nollywood, Hillywood and a few other "Woods"?

You wonder how they got to rehab when you were never around

And the only 'real talk' they got

Was with their homies, smoking pot

Should you call your kids sluts

When you've legalized pornography?

When you teach them 'safe sex'

And cast aside chastity

And the pride in virginity?

Should you blame your daughters

For their early pregnancy when you've made sure

They can go for abortion

Or give the child up for adoption?

Would you sit back and consider for a moment

That maybe, just maybe, you've been doing things wrong?

Would you come down from your high places

And realize we're not that different

That this conflict's been going on for ages

And you were once part of it

Coz I'm pretty sure your parents weren't fans

Of the moonwalk

I'm sure they didn't appreciate you buying

That Walkman

And I'll bet my lunch they wished

They'd killed the nigga who got the guts

To create disco.

So again

Would you come down from your high places

And realize we're not that different

Coz if you look more closely, Y'all didn't turn out fine.

You too got drunkards and crack addicts

You too got criminals and gang members

Isn't it high time you changed the strategy

And adopted one that guarantees synergy?

How about you educate and not just teach us

How about you mentor and not just preach us

How about you guide and not just command us

How about, instead of frowning on us

For not reaching up as high as you,

You come down and show us how?

Dear Elders,

Please understand I address myself to you

Not as the typical angry millennial

Looking to undermine your authority

But simply as someone who believes

That even the best of us sometimes

Need to be reminded of how best

To do things

Yours truly,

Why Debate?

It is a lovely, sunny Saturday morning as I walk through the gates of IFAK Secondary school. I'm on my way to a debate competition as I always do once a month. And as always, my level of excitement and expectation is at its highest. As I enter the school premises, I find myself surrounded by a throng of students from over 25 high schools in and around Kigali; some chitchatting after a month of not seeing each other, some buried away in books, laptops, and cellphones doing a last minute research. In a few minutes, we gather in a hall where one of the competition coordinators repeats the boring rules and regulations of the day(boring because virtually everyone in the room has been debating for some time now and would repeat them in his sleep). Then round pairings are announced, classrooms and judges assigned and I walk to my own room to judge.

In judging mode

The day's motion is whether or not Rwanda should adopt the East African treaty through a Common Market, a Monetary Union, and a Political Federation. As I judge, it gets harder and harder to know where I myself am standing. I'm in awe at the amount of research these students have done and the statistics they throw at each other. Further along the debate, I realize that one of the debaters from Agahozo Shalom has actually read the WHOLE treaty. The Proposition speaker presents an outstanding five-year action plan to achieve the goals outlined in the topic. These include a gradual economic convergence policy and a rotating cycle for the presidency of the Federation. The rebuttal from the opposition is no less amazing: the speaker gives GDP per capita, aid reliance and inflation statistics proving East African economies are so disparate that convergence in only five years is so unlikely; effectively stating it took the significantly more advanced European economies 30 years to achieve a semblance of convergence. He then goes on to explain that for a Federation to be effective, people need to let go of their national identities in favor of an East African one, and that this will be a very difficult task since ethnic and local identities are more prevalent in some of the member countries.

Debater from Agahozo Shalom

I have been working with iDebate for three years now, first as a debater when I myself was a student, and now as a volunteer. This Non-Governmental Organisation was started back in 2012 by three young Rwandans with the aim of changing the Rwandan society -particularly the youth- through the art of debate. Since then their range of activities has greatly expanded, from just a monthly debate with 15 schools to debate camps attended by more than 250 kids, US tours where they build partnerships with American universities and annual East African debate championships. And when I look at the progress that has been made, the change in attitude, the confidence build up, the critical thinking and public speaking skills that these students have acquired I can't help but feel, more strongly than ever, that debate is one of the best ways towards the reconstruction and development of the people of Rwanda. Why do I say that, you might ask?

Roughly 22 years ago, people in Rwanda who were educated-ministry clerks, hospital nurses, businessmen and such -people who were considered intellectuals- scrambled to the windows of their cars and buses to check out RPF soldiers on their way to Parliament Building and see the horns and tails they’d been led to believe the latter had. This kind of propaganda, and the population’s predisposition to believe it are one of the key elements that led to the irrational phobia and hatred that culminated in Genocide of the Tutsi.

Now Debate teaches a person to not just swallow everything he/she is told. Debate teaches the person to think critically, to analyze rationally and to look for the truth in a statement. It teaches the person to question the surroundings and identify the problems in the status quo; which is the first step towards solving them. A citizen like this one is the kind of citizen our Rwanda needs. And these are the citizens of the future that are being nurtured with debate, through the work of organizations such as iDebate Rwanda. Citizens who won't just believe whatever they're told just because it is their parents or the radio saying it. Citizens who won't sit idly by as things go south but will stand up and fight for what is right with their words, with their pens and if necessary, with their arms. And as I watch the winning team and the best speakers walk up to the stage to receive their trophies on this sunny Saturday afternoon, these are the citizens I see all around me.