A guitar lesson

My friend EB is from Rwanda. He is in the Bachelor of Business Programme (yes that is how program is spelled). Having guessed at his age and I did the math on my fingers and toes and figured that he was 1 or 2 when his family left for Kenya. Last night EB came over and we played some guitar (many thanks to Mark Shaw for sharing). He asked about a harmonic trick that I'd shown him the last time we'd gotten together. We were working on this when he shared that his favorite bass player used harmonics beautifully. "Well he can't use them better than Victor Wooten" I said. "Yes Victor Wooten, he is my main man" EB replied. "He is from my hometown, my friend is the band director at his old high school and he's trying to get Victor to come back for homecoming" I bragged. "Whoa". I had him right where I wanted, I could now brag and reminisce about seeing Victor with Bela Fleck when I was in 9th grade. To keep EB in the conversation I asked him "What were you, 3 in 1996?" "No, I guess I was 9..." Wait a minute, how old is this guy? I subtly look down at my toes... "I was born in 1987..." EB said, pretending not to notice. "So you remember leaving Rwanda?" "Yes, but that is a long story." "You might as well go ahead, I don't have any more I can show you on guitar." I don't. I have been playing since EB was 8. Long, sad, contemplative pause.
Moving on.

EB began to unravel the tale of his journey from Rwanda. It is an unbelievable story, but EB is as sincere as they come so believe it. He told the story in a less than linear fashion, first his story and then his parents'. I will try to line it up for you non-creatives that don't like syrup on your pancakes. You know who you are and you are probably an engineer or accountant. (A great thing I've learned to do while in Africa, stereotype. This is perfectly fine here. One tribal group is good at business, another at animal husbandry, Certain nationalities are not to be trusted in business... You get my drift.) EB. Right.

EB's father is a pastor. He was doing ministry in rural Rwanda when the violence began. EB's mother made the decision to leave the city for safety without knowing the where abouts or well being of her husband. She took her 5 children along with 3 others away from the violence. They fled with several others, and his mom formed a prayer group among them. As they moved from one village or campsite to the next, this group would pray at least daily. Through divine and miraculous interaction they were able stay ahead of the violence, often leaving just in time. As they neared Congo, they had to paddle a large dugout canoe to cross Lake Kivu into the border. They encountered large, perilous waves on their journey, but were able to stop on the island in the middle of the lake. They lived there for some time, but the water made several of EB's sisters sick. They arranged to have another boat, this time with a motor take them the rest of the way. Unfortunately it was a set-up, and their boat was to be robbed in the middle of the lake. By another miracle, the leader of the "pirates" was overcome with conviction and his supposed victims led him as he became a Christian. In the middle of the Lake. Safely ashore EB's mother found a church in Congo that allowed them to live there.

Meanwhile, EB's father had made his way to a refugee camp in Tanzania. He organized the refugees, while continuing to work as a minister. Discouraged that he had yet to find his family, he asked about possible alternative refugee sites. Apparently the network among the refugees was incredible. Without phones, it was difficult to know what was going on, but word of mouth seemed capable of transmitting accurate information. His father heard enough rumors to leave Tanzania and search Congo for his family. One evening, during his journey, he asked about where he might stay for the evening. A Congolese man directed him to a church that was known to house Rwandan's. EB and his siblings recognized and ran to the sound of their father's voice while he was still outside the church. They all clung to him as they slept that night.

The family was able to travel safely to the refugee camp in Tanzania, where they lived for two years. EB's father left the camp to try to establish a home for the family in Kenya. While away, Rwanda had been reopened, and it was required that everyone return to Rwanda. Some were determined to avoid the exodus and make way to Kenya. During the first day of the migration, EB, now probably 8, was separated from his mother and the rest of the camp. He managed to connect with other groups of refugee's and was determined to not be forced back to Rwanda. As he was telling me, EB was laughing at the poor logic of his 8 year old self. He and an older boy survived in the wild for several weeks, until they wandered upon another camp this one mainly of refugees from Burundi. He managed to settle into the new camp, and established a new life. Eventually other Rwandan's made their way into the camp, and the word of mouth network informed EB that his father was in Nairobi. Thinking that there might be potential for a reward, a young man in the camp decided he would take EB to his father. The 2 travelled an underground railroad across borders and military checkpoints, getting harassed and robbed along the way. They made it to Nairobi without a schilling between them, and needing assistance to find EB's father. They got off the bus at the main bus station, and were pointed immediately to the eastern side of town, as that is where a "Rwanda town" was emerging. From there the network set about getting EB to his father's home. Again their reunion was a surprise unlooked for. It took another year for rest of the family to arrive from Rwanda. It was something his mother prayed for all along.

The Nairobi bus station where Ebenezer was pointed to Rwanda Town

EB ended his story. I realize that this began because I was trying to inform him about one of the most exciting things I did in 1996. I went to a concert. By 1996, as a 9 year old, EB had done more living than I could ever imagine.

I have left out details in a failed attempt at brevity. I am hopeful that EB will write his own story with the voice and detail it deserves. If you would like to encourage him in that regards, let me know I would be glad to pass it along.