Sunday in Ruhengeri

[Click on the pictures to see larger versions with captions.]

Jacques casually tossed the ball in the air to serve — and smashed it right by me. An ace! That's crazy, I thought, he can't be more than 10 years old. A moment later John-Bosco, at least a year or two younger, slammed a winner past Julie. OK, I felt better. Like me, she's at least 35 years older than these kids.

A tiny boy with a deep voice named Manny kept score. He sounded like a proper umpire. The first few times I heard him call "Fault!" I reflexively looked up for some official sitting in a high chair. As it was, I could hardly see Manny against the glare of the sun; he was standing close to the net post, his head barely above the top of the net. Overall, he did a great job, though I think he lost track a few times.

One game in particular seemed to go on forever. John Bosco and I had won several points in a row when Manny announced "Trente ans" (30-all). I questioned the score; Manny repeated it with authority. Julie laughed, knowing she and Jacques had gained several free points. But no matter, we were having fun — real fun — possibly the most fun I've had since I arrived in Rwanda.

At one point, Jacques suddenly ran off the court and another boy, Darius, skipped in to take his place. Julie welcomed her new partner and we continued. Apparently it was time for the next lesson on the other court. Every 45 minutes or so, the kids switch, taking their turn with Rachid, the local pro.

Each weekend Julie generously pays for kids in her neighborhood to learn tennis. With a dozen kids, the program lasts all morning on both Saturdays and Sundays. Creative and full of energy, Julie has figured out how to make this work. She gives the tennis kids options: they can sit quietly and watch, or flip through a stack of National Geographic magazines.

Sometimes she gives them little drills to practice. The first time I visited, I taught several boys on the sidelines how to juggle. Now that they've learned how to keep score and serve, the kids have begun to play doubles on their own when the second court is free.

Julie moved here from Iowa a year ago. She's a graphic artist who loves inspiring others to create their own art — of any kind. Next week we're starting an art project together: drawing classes for the kids of families who live near the gorilla parks. Gradually we'll introduce information about nature, gorillas and health. Even though most of these kids have never seen a wild gorilla they know about them, but we're not sure what, exactly, they know.

Also, thanks to Julie, I've (re)discovered tennis. Until two months ago I hadn't hit a tennis ball for 20 years or so. Work and a busy life, as well as life's injuries, had wiped the game from my list of activities. But it's not easy to get exercise here in Rwanda, and the clay court is soft and slow, which helps. If the gorillas are healthy and I don't feel too overwhelmed by unfinished paperwork (or too sore from trekking up to find my patients during the week), I show up at the courts for an hour or so most weekends.

Until today, Julie and I had played only a set or two with one or two kids acting as ball boys. When she suggested we play mixed doubles this morning, I raised my eyebrows and asked her if she really thought the kids would be OK with it. "Sure," she said. Julie was right — they jumped at the chance.

I'm not sure how Julie got to know these kids initially, but her dogs made the connection stick. Dogs in Rwanda are guard animals, not pets, kept behind walls or tied up. But Julie's dogs live in her house, eat cooked meals and accompany her on walks. Though they're not always well-behaved, they're quite friendly. Even so, they scare the neighbors.

At Julie's invitation — she wanted to help them get over their fear of the dogs — the neighborhood kids started coming by her house to visit, knocking on her gate from time to time. Soon the kids joined Julie on her dog walks. She learned their names and taught them some English. Now, they take the dogs for leash walks on their own. I think Julie started the tennis lessons as a way to give the children a gift — not money or food, but play.

There's no question that tennis is an escape for these kids. They seem happy and carefree on the court, but I know they live a hard life. Most of the people in Ruhengeri town (something like 40,000) are poor, and there's a lot of pressure on children to grow up quickly. Many drop out of school early because they have no choice. They must find work — usually on their family's farm.

Land itself is the most precious commodity here. Because the volcanic soil is rich, even a small patch of dirt is enough to grow a surprising number of potatoes. People own meters of land, not acres.

Walking back from the courts today, I kept thinking about something my friend Perry, a wildlife biologist in North Carolina, said to me years ago when we were working together on a river otter project. "You know, Lucy," he remarked in his soft Southern drawl, "the problem is everyone thinks they own the land. If no one owned the land, there'd be plenty of space for everyone, including them otters." The same holds true for this place — only here it's people and the gorillas.

[Rwanda, May 5, 2007. Pictures: Lucy Spelman/MGVP]

Comments

[SUSHIL R. DESHMUKH]

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[SUSHIL R. DESHMUKH]

I like your site extreamly.I want to be a member of discovery family. myself is ready to work in jungle's shows in this site . I am ready to undergo any training (any educational course) which DISCOVERY CHANNNEL sugggest me. this is my kind request to you. your faithfully....................................SUSHIL