Sent to Rwanda

Through all the moves and traveling I have done over the last few years, I’ve become an expert packer. I know how to shop to get the things I need to last until my next trip. And because of flying so much internationally, I can lift a suitcase and tell you if the bag weighs 50lbs; with about a 5lbs margin of error. My packing skills are really quite impressive, if I do say so myself. But I’m a horrible unpacker. Even now, I arrived in Rwanda over one month ago and there are still suitcases in my floor with supplies that have not been touched or moved since I dropped it there upon arrival. I hate unpacking. It’s something I have to really prepare for. I don’t know why or how, I’m just that way. I will step around boxes or suitcases until finally I feel mentally prepared enough to help the things inside find their homes. I was having a good one on one conversation with my friend the other day, which I love because I’m an introvert. We were discussing what we look for in friend

One of the things that will pull a tear from my eye faster than lightning is when the traditions of Rwandan culture are displayed. Rwandan weddings unfurl like a stage play with a script and costumes. The long flowing dresses shimmer with prisms of color. The men shine in their best suits. The beautiful dancers swirl while the drummers thrum steady and sure. All the while, the emcee keeps the flow smooth throughout the day. Yes, day . They are extravagant events that stretch from morning until late into the night. They start with the negotiations, the bride price. How many cows would a husband’s family need to give the bride’s family in order to purchase this woman? (My feminist eyes roll a little, but it’s all in good present day fun. No cows are actually exchanging hands .) Then they must verify the cows are healthy milk producers. A lot of humor and bantering are involved in this process. “Are the cows good and fat?” “ Isn ’t the bride worth more than 100 cows ?” When

A nomad is “ a person who does not stay long in the same place; a wanderer.” Over the last few years, I haven’t stayed long in one place. I see other nomads walking through airports and catch up over time spent waiting to board airplanes. I have figured out where the comfiest sleeping places are in certain airports, the best restaurants, and where not to get coffee. I walked into an airport yesterday and my phone automatically connected to their wifi. Uber has become a verb (i.e. I ubered to the airport today.) I learned that people rent out their homes and cars to people like myself; and I’ve rented both. I’ve figured out how to accrue travel points by spending money and that they can be cashed in for use of a car, train, or airplane; because I’ve used them all over the last year. All because I need to share a story about what God is doing half way across the world and invite people into our mission. I run an organization called Belay Global. Belay the rocking climbing term m