[Click on the pictures to see larger versions with captions.]
Sitting on one of the varnished wooden benches in the back of the classroom, I listened and watched as Eric taught the class. He spoke to the kids quietly but firmly, gesturing with chalk-covered hands. Dressed in a stylish, white, tunic-style shirt and black pants, he looked every bit the artist. His easygoing manner obviously appealed to the kids. There were 50 of them, mostly 8- to 15-year-olds.
It was Saturday morning in Kinigi, and this was the MGVP Art of Conservation Visual Learning Class. Julie (see "Sunday in Ruhengeri") runs this new program. She hired Eric as the teacher and Valerie as the translator; Julie provides inspiration and subject matter. Together, they give weekly drawing lessons to three groups of 50 people from three different villages near the park. I was today's invited guest.
Though I couldn't understand the lesson in Kinyarwanda, I got the gist of it as Eric continued. He was asking the kids questions, and they were raising their hands enthusiastically, snapping their fingers, hoping to be chosen. When he called on one of them, he or she would stand up and politely give the answer.
He reviewed the words written on the chalkboard, e.g., "Mountain Gorilla Veterinary Project," pointing to each one, pronouncing it in English, and asking if anyone wanted to try repeating it after him. Several hands whipped into the air, and he called on a couple of students. The first, a tiny boy with a surprisingly deep voice, repeated the words almost perfectly. The next, a tall, thin girl, had a little trouble with "veterinary." She tried twice, but used the French pronunciation, "vétérinaire." Eric corrected her gently.
The kids in this class were all from Kinigi, the town where the gorilla park (Parc National des Volcans) has its headquarters. Though some may have parents who work as guides, trackers or porters, most know very little about the forest. They've heard about the gorillas, but few will ever see one. Daily life here is about getting by, going to school or working on the family farm, not about hiking up the mountain. Besides, it costs money to trek in the park and the minimum age is 15. Though Rwandans pay considerably less than the international tourists who come to see the gorillas, relatively few locals will ever join the foreigners.
When class began today, a group of girls asked Valerie if they could welcome us with song and dance — one about gorillas, one just to say good morning. Everyone clapped along, smiling. Then Julie introduced me. I spent about an hour at the chalkboard explaining my job, speaking partly in French, partly in English, with Valerie translating into Kinyarwanda.
I described the mountain gorillas, explaining that although they live isolated from people, they can get many of the same illnesses we can. Uncertain if the kids could grasp numerical comparisons, I tried anyway: We protect the mountain gorillas because there are so few — 700, compared to 8 million people in Rwanda and 6 billion on Earth. The kids responded with wide-eyed expressions, though I'm not certain they really got it.
Julie wanted to know if the kids had ever seen the orphaned gorillas that live in a facility in Kinigi not far from their school. Some said they knew the place, but none had actually ever seen the animals. I explained that it's a special home for eight orphans: two mountain gorillas and six lowland gorillas, all of them taken illegally from the wild by poachers. We (MGVP) take care of them and hope someday to release them back to the wild, though that will require a lot of work on the part of several conservation groups.
I asked the class if they would like to see the orphans someday. No one is allowed inside the facility except the staff, but often the gorillas are visible from outside, high up in the trees We could arrange for the class to see them from a distance. The answer was a chorus of "yego" (yay-go) — yes!
I had one more question for the kids. Did they think the orphaned gorillas should go back to the forest? To my surprise, they answered "oya" (oiy-ya) in unison — no. Why? Because they have a nice home, they should stay there, where it is safe. Julie and I glanced at each other. Of course, from the kids' perspective, this makes sense. How could they imagine the forest as a safe place for anyone or anything? They've never been there.
Digesting all this, I sat at the back of the room while the drawing lesson began. After wiping the board clean, Eric turned back and asked several more questions. Once again, the eager hands went up. Those who answered correctly were given pieces of chalk and allowed to go up to the board. Each child drew a different line pattern — a horizontal, a half-circle, a vertical, a double loop. He was asking them to give examples.
The positive energy in the room impressed me. It already seemed as if this group of kids and their teachers had been together for weeks. Wow! This was just the beginning, I thought. Soon, they'd really be drawing, expressing their ideas about animals and nature and what it's like to feel healthy. In the end, all of their drawings will be put on public display. That's when we’ll really begin to understand what Rwandans think of the concept we call "one-health."
A message popped up on my phone. One of the orphans was sick. I had to go. Maybe next time I could stay for the whole class.
[Rwanda, June 9, 2007. Pictures: Lucy Spelman/MGVP]
Lucy, A NYT article on Smithsonian governance (or lack thereof) got me looking for you again. And what an interesting find! Your job with the MGVP sounds fantastic! I hope you are well -- you look great, by the way -- and thriving in the new challenges of this job. I'm doing the same stuff (tho, frankly, both Chris and I are ready for a change of some kind...). Will is 16 and will be an 11th grader at Exeter in the fall, Nick is 14 and will start at the Holderness School in September. We're at my parents' cottage in MI for the summer, per usual -- I telecommute and the boys have a great summer experience. I do think of you often, and I'd love to hear from you if you ever get the chance to correspond. Take care of yourself. All my best, Ali
Posted by: Ali HIll | June 19, 2007 at 09:04 AM