Azizi Life...Muhanga District, Rwanda

For one day while in Rwanda, Kate and I got to go outside the city to the Muhanga District where we spent the day with 7 women who are artisans with another co-op, Ingobokarugo Cooperative, in Rwanda. They make baskets and jewelry that they then sell through Azizi Life who sells their items to folks in the UK and the states. Through purchases of these items, the women are able to earn an income for their families, provide a way for their children to go to school, and contribute in other ways to their household.

These women opened up their home and time to us to show us what a day in their life looks like. We did everything from hoe in the field to carrying the cow’s lunch on our heads, to preparing their one meal of the day to learning how to make the jewelry they make ourselves!

This was an extremely eye opening experience. I saw families and children who live completely on the land…and there’s a joy that I couldn’t explain. These people are living in what to us here in the states would be seen as some of the most impoverished situations. But they have everything they need…and then some. In these communities, the families and neighbors share everything. When it’s time to kill the pig or cow…it’s shared with the entire community. When someone needs a house..all the men in the community come together to make the mud bricks and build the home. This mentality and way of life is fundamentally different from so many other cultures in the world. This is also what made the genocide and the murder of neighbors by neighbors an all the more shocking reality.

I’ve already touched on the ways this community and village were affected by the genocide and what that did for us during our stay there. You can read about that at this link…

http://www.claireelysephotography.com/blog/?p=8968

Something happened that day that I will never forget...As we were leaving the families including all of their children sang and danced for us. While dancing their traditional tribal dance, they were thanking us for being a part of their lives for the day. They don’t know us…they definitely don’t understand us and yet they were so welcoming…they then asked us to sing and dance for them. We of course weren't prepared and even laughed at first. But then we decided to sing Amazing Grace. They had never heard the song and it was a very moving experience. We began to get emotional singing it and had a hard time getting through the song. It occurred to each of us while singing about grace and eternity to those who don't even speak the same language that one day we will all sing together. We will worship and sing praises to God with members of God's family literally from every tribe and every nation..

when we've been there ten thousand years..

The kids in the villages all run to the street when they hear a car coming. They don’t see cars very often so when one pulls up they drop everything and run after it…waving and often yelling “mzungu!” which means “white person!” The photos of the kids and families doing this are some that I will treasure forever. The experience of that joy and welcome given to strangers was the gospel being played out. There is something in all of us...something that is not of us and it is God’s work to restore chaos in a broken world. Out of this chaos is a redemption that can be felt in the smiles, the dances, the hugs, the claps of even those who don’t even know the same language as us…and even in the car chases by children so excited to see someone different from them…there is a hint..a whisper of God’s grace, goodness, generosity, and joy that is real and that being in this world we have the privilege to share with others.

You can support the women and families seen in these photographs and other Rwandan artisans by visiting the link below:

http://azizilife.com/

And if you're ever in or near Rwanda, go visit Azizi Life and spend a day in the life of these people. You'll be changed forever.

http://azizilife.com/get-involved/experiences

^" After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. ¹⁰ And they cried out in a loud voice:

“Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” Revelation 7:9-10

Thanks for stopping by,

Claire

The Darres...Port au Prince, Haiti

The story of why and how we went to Haiti can be found on these previous posts here and here.

I had the privilege of getting to serve in Haiti alongside Kate, my dear friend and roommate, and thought it only appropriate that you should hear her perspective and see some of the things we experienced through her eyes.  This is what she had to say about our time at the Darres':

On our first full day in Port au Prince, we had the opportunity to visit a local pastor and his family who had recently decided to take in and care for 6 special needs children.

This family, the Darres, lived in the heart of the city, and had very few resources to care for their own family, let alone for 6 new children who required extra attention. Yet, they had a heart for serving these children, and the faith to trust that God would provide what they needed.

My aunt, Kandis- the physical therapist from Texas, had held a clinic for 40 special needs children at the home of this family before and had warned us that when we got to their home, we might see some things that made us feel uncomfortable, so I tried to be prepared for what we were about to experience.

(or as prepared as it is possible to be when in Haiti… )

When we arrived at the Darres' home, my first sight, ironically, was a blind man sitting outside the door where the special needs children were. He was tenderly holding a baby, and he very much seemed to be a kind of gate keeper for these children. Even though he couldn’t see them, you could tell from the way he held them and talked to them that

he loved them very much.

After speaking to the man, we peered into the dark, window-less room where the children were liying on the concrete floor on tattered mats. Kandis told us our only job was to go inside and love on them, hold them, laugh with them, play with them. And we were happy to do whatever we could.

The temperature in the concrete room was well over 100 degrees and several children had very high fevers. As I sat down on the floor and began to fan flies off the face of a two year old boy with cerebral palsy, I was overwhelmed with anger and frustration. He was crying out and obviously in severe pain and discomfort, but there was very little I could do to make him feel better. In that moment, I was so mad at the brokenness and fragility of this tent of a body that we carry around with us, disgusted with the lack of medical care available to people in these circumstances, angry at the ugly mark that sin has left on this earth.

At the same time, I thought about every time I obsessed about my body or appearance, every time I griped about a “first world pain”, every time I neglected to show patience and mercy in a situation where someone was desperately crying out for help. As I continued to hold this sweet boy, doing anything I could to communicate that someone was right there with him, God hit me over the head with a complete feeling of helplessness. As someone who (most days) feels like “if I just work harder, maybe tomorrow I’ll have it all together” or “I-can-take-care-of-myself-thank-you-very-much” , I have a hard time grasping the extent of God’s provision for me. But through this experience at the Darres' home, I envisioned myself and my circumstances through the eyes of this child- unable to do anything for himself, completely dependent on the mercy of someone else to provide for his every need.  Without someone-his nanny, his caretakers, a volunteer-coming in to stoop down, pick him up, and take him outside to experience the sunshine, he would always lie on the floor alone.

But God always provides exactly what we need. And for this boy, and every other child at the Darres home that day, God provided wheelchairs. These wheelchairs, which are worth close to $10,000, were donated by people in the United States who knew that my aunt takes them to people in Haiti. She doesn’t bring the wheelchairs with any specific person in mind, but inevitably, they always fit someone who needs them. That day at the Darres, my new friend was picked up off the floor and put in his very own wheelchair. This provided almost immediate relief from a lot of the pain he was experiencing, opening up his lungs and allowing him to breathe more easily than he could on the floor. Even though he will never run or walk, he also will never spend every moment of his life lying on the floor. God lavished His grace on these children through the gift of a new, better way of living and experiencing the world.

Praise God that He graciously gives that same gift to all His children.

(The following images are of the 6 children who received medication and wheelchairs from donors in the states and the men, women, and  children who care for them.)

If I'm honest, this was one of the hardest things to photograph while we were there. Sorrow and joy were both very real at the same time. I would say these photos accurately portray the many ups and downs of the week and encouragement that came in the midst of grieving. It's hard for me even to post these photographs as we saw these children living in what I can only describe as the worst of circumstances I had seen at that point...but oddly enough...they're better off at this home on this hot floor than in the tent cities where they came from...more on that soon.

If you or someone you know has access to wheelchairs or medication to be taken to Haiti on future trips please email me (hello@claireelysephotography.com) or comment below.

Check out our connection to Haiti and the group of boys we went to serve here.

Thanks for stopping by,

Claire