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Fifth Day in Rwanda – Ben’s Thoughts: The Crying Baby.


I’m going to start of with my overall thoughts before I go into my day.  I find this country so beautiful for the simple fact that, no one is better than anyone else. everyone is equal, and they are all Rwandans.  It’s weird to see because back home you would never catch Mr. Evans and his Range-Rover from Seafield talking to Eddie from the tavern.  It just doesn’t happen.  Everyone is out to help each other and it is beautiful.

So today was an experience and a half, and one I’ll never forget.  We first went to the survivors group which was amazing.  They sang us a beautiful Rwandan song and continued to go into another.  We then introduced ourselves, and they gathered us together to perform a Rwandan song, including our group where most folk struggle with proper English, but we gave it a good go and it sounded okay.  We had a very moving testimony with all these stories that we get told there is the same amazing themes of togetherness, family beyond blood and all forms of strength, and it’s wonderful to hear.

After the testimonies we went to see the beehive/honey farm the group have been working on in the past year and what a sight it was.  There was a trek up a hill first though, I was dripping at the end of it.  I was the fool with the darkest t-shirt on. Once we were all suited up me and Dr Murray went first. It was quite weird because you constantly hear the buzzing of rakes of bees, and my initial reaction is to shout “wapper” through my hands. After you get past it, it is an amazing sight to see, all the bees working in unison and just getting on with it.

Onto the Comfort Babies.  Before we got there I was apprehensive as I am okay with kids and children but not so much babies and toddlers. I seem to have one of those faces that makes them cry. It started off the usual way, we introduced our-selves and had a wee sing song, which I loved today, I was getting right into it having a wee dance.  It’s quite contagious when they all get going.  When we sat down I was trying to get one of the toddlers to laugh and realise that I wasn’t an alien, but with that I got no where and gave up. So, after we all moved about and mixed up, to my surprise the cutest, smiliest wee boy came waddling up to me with his toy guitar and we were in-separable.  Even Esha couldn’t bring us apart.

We sat down together and had a wee play and he showed me his guitar, and any other kid who tried to take it nearly got a kicking.  He loved his guitar. Time flew in and our day care services were forced to an end. We took some photos but the inevitable happened, he started to cry. I looked about looking for mum, who I had no clue who she was, but thankfully she showed up. With despair of making him cry and not being able to say goodbye I headed to the bus.

Everyone was in moods caused by separation issues from their new adopted kids, but just as I thought my luck was running out I saw my wee baby getting carried up to the bus.  I sprinted out my seat and of the bus. The boy genuinely reached out for me, my face just lit up with joy as did his, but time flew in and his mother wanted to head off. He refused. He just gripped me tighter and my heart just filled with joy. So she did what any parent does when their kids are refusing, “okay I’ll go without you” but even that didn’t work.  He was happy in my arms, but to my disappointment he had to go. We basically had to peel him off me and he went back into his mothers arms with a sad expression and a frown. Thinking back on it now I should of just tried to smuggle him on the bus, because I miss his wee face like mad.

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