The field is carved from a sloping hill, defined by stick goals, and mottled with grass clumps growing in defiance of packed earth and coarse gravel. Leaning my bike against an avocado tree, I lace my once white cleats and jog onto the field. Smiles flash across dark faces—the “Umuzungo” has come to play! We clasp hands and chest-bump,…Continue
“Muzungo, Muzungu! Giv-a me money!” children call out as they dash toward me. Traveling lightly for a full day of hiking on a ridge in Rwanda, I have no francs on me. However, the kids do not want money; they are taught in…Continue
The whirr of the pottery wheel is the only sound that fills the wordless silence. Beyond my few greetings in Kinyarwanda, a language barrier separates me from the Rwandan potter. And yet, with the guidance of his patient hands and my clumsy fingers, together we craft the spinning clay into a smooth vase.
The potter is a Pigmy from one of the marginalized and impoverished tribes in Rwanda. I am an American, living in Rwanda. As an…Continue
Before the Western wall in Jerusalem, both a soldier and a rabbi come to pray. Each represent their Israeli heritage in different ways: the soldier in his uniform reveals the modern Israeli tenacity to fight for and defend their homeland, while the rabbi in his robes shows the tendency to cling to tradition amidst the changes of the world. However, coming together in prayer,…Continue