Stories from Rwanda: What Love Looks Like
Odette’s mom in Umutara
This is what love looks like.
A young mother of three wakes up one morning to find that her husband did not come home last night again. This is so unlike him and try as she might she cannot shake the dark fear enveloping her. Despite the fact he won her by carrying marriage (rape first, wedding later) she has come to love him with all her heart, mostly because time has proven his love for her is true. She cannot imagine one day without him, especially now when night brings tribal unrest and more danger than she can allow her mind to imagine.
Days turn to weeks, then months, and little by little the story of what happened comes to her in fragments. He met his rivals on the road, tried his best to hold his ground. He escaped and hid, his life at risk, all attempts at returning thwarted. Someone had seen him near the border, a great distance. Another said he was safe on the other side, waiting for things to settle until he could come home. What they did not tell her was that he loved her, that he missed her, that he needed her near him. But some things do not need to be said. Some things she told herself you know from the inside of your soul.
The head of the rival tribe came to find her. He had noticed how tall she was, how beautiful. He had noticed her husband was gone, that she was exposed, alone with little ones. He wanted to take her as his wife, but she refused. The next day while she gathered in the fields, she returned to her simple house in flames, the invitation transformed by the threat of smoldering ash.
She understood what must be done. She entered his house, she became his wife. She tended his crops and took care of his child. She minded her time and waited for the rains to give way to the hot clear sky and the white bright sun.
She convinced him that the marriage would not be complete without a real ceremony. For this she would need freedom to do commerce, to harvest the ripe bananas waiting on her land. For this she would need him to let her do her business in the market so she would have money for fine clothes and a proper celebration.
The man was flattered, convinced he had captured the heart inside her lovely body. So he gave her her wish to be free. She harvested just a little more than they agreed, held back just enough cash for her plans and prepared for her escape.
When his work called him away the next time, she called for her brother to come right away. Together they sauntered out as if to market, her children at his feet, the baby on her back. At market close they kept walking, out past the village, out past the last house she knew along the familiar path. When night came, they slept under the bushes, and when the sun rose they set out again, making up stories for each passerby they met, until they no longer saw a familiar face.
Soon the explanations were harder to come by and the brother decided she would be safer to go it alone should they happen upon the enemy tribe looking to hassle young men. Now she traveled by night, one child tied to her back, the other to her front, the two remaining free for the grasp of her strong hands. Three weeks like this, on her way to Uganda, to find him. Three weeks of sleeping under the sun with her babies, hidden in the brush. Three weeks of watching her feet move like a dream under moonlight until she found him, until the laughter and shouting and crying and rejoicing as she made her way back to the place where she knew she belonged.
With Paul. Always with Paul.
This is the story I remind her of, as we walk arm in arm on the dirt path to her old house, the one that caved in when the rains came, the one made of mud and sticks, the one in desperate need of iron sheets and new walls.
It’s my favorite story, I tell her, and Odette’s, too. She laughs, the way old women do when they have passed through the valley of the shadow of death a couple times over and lived to tell about it.
“Well, I didn’t know much about geography, but I did my best,” she says, cackling. Michal translates for me, and I laugh, too. Everything about her is full of knowing, geography included. The way she takes me in her arms to welcome me home. The way she sits on the stoop chopping vegetables, making the young women laugh. The way she kneels beside her tiny bed and says her prayers, before changing into her white nightie and whispering goodnight to me in a language I can’t yet understand.
I think about her nine children, only four remaining after war. I think about her beloved Paul, his dead body shielding her from sight as she lay trembling under the bed. I think about all that loss, all that violence of the genocide and still, there is this: the light in her eyes, the humor in her voice, the hope in her step.
“Look at all this,” she says to me, when we reach the little field beyond the falling down house. “Tell Odette we won’t starve yet!” For every pile of dust and disaster surrounding the house, there is an orderly row of beans sprouting tall towards the sun.
‘Tell her not to worry one bit,” she says. “I know how to be patient. I’m very good at that.”
June 1st, 2008 at 11:51 pm
Thank you.
June 2nd, 2008 at 12:25 am
i needed this tonight. thank you for reminding me what is really important.
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:05 am
I’m speechless. Such love. Such beauty. If you sold either of these pics I would buy one. Magnificent.
June 2nd, 2008 at 3:09 am
Crying tears of joy at what you could do, what the Universe provided and how your journey has touched my heart!
June 2nd, 2008 at 3:12 am
This is what amazes me about Rwandan women — that they can be dragged through all of this horror, and somehow they finding their footing and instead walk into hope instead. I am humbled by every tale they tell, and inspired by the laughter that remains after the drought.
June 2nd, 2008 at 6:48 am
[…] jen lemen - Home « Stories from Rwanda: What Love Looks Like […]
June 2nd, 2008 at 7:19 am
This story brought tears to my eyes Jen. What an amazing women she sounds like. Filled with so much love, knowledge, and wisdom for life. And not only is the story itself beautiful, but so is the way you told it. Thank you so much for sharing all of this with us. I look forward to each new story you tell…putting together pieces of what you have experienced.
June 2nd, 2008 at 10:39 am
incredible Jen. what a gift that you have been allowed in…to hear the sacred stories…to be welcomed with all that love. and the photos here are are your best yet. amazing, simply amazing.
June 2nd, 2008 at 12:18 pm
I am utterly amazed at the strength of these women, who have gone through so much pain and are still able to hold their heads up and smile. Surely when Odette tells her story on Oprah, Esther will be sitting at her side!
June 2nd, 2008 at 12:32 pm
While I didn’t travel to Rwanda, your trip and everything that lead up to it — even just having you as a friend — has done so much for my soul. I feel like something happened to me when I walked through that magic front door of yours. I realized what was important in my life, and where I should focus my energy. And the universe keeps sending me messages to let me know I’m on the right path.
Thank you for helping me realize it’s okay to open your heart and be vulnerable.
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:51 pm
I’m speechless .. and a the same time exploding with warmth and amazement and joy and feeling so grateful that you cared to listen to these stories. And that the women telling you the stories trust you with their souls. I want to learn from you. Learn how to listen to the stories and tell my own. Thanks for sharing.
June 2nd, 2008 at 2:50 pm
So beautiful. I’m in tears.
June 2nd, 2008 at 3:04 pm
wow, what a journey of hope and of love. she is a symbol of such strength. it is such a blessing to read of women who harbor such hope and light. i admire your journey. thank you for sharing.
June 2nd, 2008 at 9:45 pm
What an incredible gift you’ve been given, Jen. You’re blessed to understand how to use it.
June 3rd, 2008 at 12:06 am
Wow. What a story. What a woman. I find that I hold as heroes people who walk, step by step, towards what is meaningful… people like Harriet Tubman, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr.
Here is another one.
June 3rd, 2008 at 1:15 am
And through you, we learn. Not an idealized love story, but an enduring journey through horror to strength and wisdom.
Not a bad idea to sell the pictures–and give the profits (after production costs) to Odette, Esther and their family. With their permission and blessing, of course.
June 3rd, 2008 at 1:46 am
Honestly, I don’t know what to say.
June 3rd, 2008 at 9:27 am
I’m so moved by your experience, this story, your writing, your great big heart, Odette’s wonderful family - everything. I feel like I’ve been transported to Rwanda with you, and that the stories you heard and the love you felt are coming my way too. Thank you, thank you.
June 3rd, 2008 at 11:58 am
These are the people who should be the leaders. Oh Jen, you were the perfect person to go and bring back these stories.
June 4th, 2008 at 7:27 pm
welcome home jen. today i received my copy of “Let’s Learn How to Help Ourselves & Others” in the mail at my sister’s in Plano, TX…We were on our way to lunch to celebrate my neices: Gab who finished 7th grade and Cristina who graduated highschool. Just us 4 gals (including me and my sis). We read “Let’s Learn How to Help Ourselves & Others” aloud at lunch….my neice Gab writes stories too. Both enjoyed it (understatement). Then we came home and I showed her your blog and we’re right now sitting outside reading about your journey. All of us were so touched by this story and I gave them more background about your journey. We see how stories connect people. More from me soon…..Tre
now here’s my neice Gab….
Hi Jen this is Gabi I just wanted to say that your book is really good and your pictures are beautiful hope that you and your daughter have a great summer and take lots of beautiful pictures!!=DYou are a really great person and I’m really glad to hear about you helping people in Rawanda!!My older sister Christina(17)is like a younger version of you she really wants to help sufering orphans in Africa..I think its really amazin’ how many few people can make a >>HUGE<<difference.Well thanks for reading this!!Take Care!!=D
-♥-
alwayz
Gabriela Elizabeth Vela
June 7th, 2008 at 11:05 pm
What an amazing story… you are a beautiful storyteller.
sigh.
Speechless.
xo
June 10th, 2008 at 11:07 pm
Esther’s story is just breathtaking. It’s no wonder that Odette is so strong of spirit.
June 13th, 2008 at 4:12 pm
An unbelievable story! Those are the stories that will be passed down from generation to generation and will live on like history. What an amazing woman!
June 13th, 2008 at 7:14 pm
With tears rolling down my face, you have inspired me to write about a woman I met while in Nicaragua last time I was there. And to try to find her again next month. Amazing story. Now…what to do with it all.
June 26th, 2008 at 12:09 am
[…] I don’t even have to ask her to smile. She is happy in part because she has worn down Odette and Odette’s mother and convinced them she cannot go to school a minute longer. At twenty, she is too old and has […]
July 17th, 2008 at 8:49 pm
i am truly humbled by these words…this story.
your stories from your trip help me remember what is important in this life.
thank you for sharing your journey with us.
September 11th, 2008 at 11:44 am
[…] in a blur these days playing nurse to my sweet Odetta as her mother calls her. Ten days ago, Odette had major surgery to repair some damage she incurred during the […]
October 4th, 2008 at 11:50 pm
[…] (yes, it really is like that sometimes) 6. uninterrupted time to create 7. Odette being well and in story-telling mode 8. tissues with lotion in them 9. pastelitos and cafe con leche 10. being skinny 11. my shiny blue […]
November 25th, 2008 at 10:03 am
[…] love, my soulsibling Kelly Rae, called me last week to talk about what she could do this holiday to help Odette’s family in Rwanda. What she has decided to invite her community to do is truly amazing; I’m so thrilled I […]
December 8th, 2008 at 4:22 pm
I had to read this again today. I have nothing else to say, my heart is quiet like one humbled by an incredible gift.
January 9th, 2009 at 7:24 am
[…] the little house that love built. (back story from kelly-rae here, more from jen here and a request from my dear friend gypsyalex […]
April 2nd, 2009 at 2:05 pm
[…] about something. Hoping against hope that by doing so you could change a political process, increase awareness, provide support, share beauty, or help “bring heaven to earth” in the words of Rob […]
June 17th, 2009 at 1:38 pm
[…] Little House That Love Built. Many of you have followed the story of Esteria–Odette’s mom–and contributed this winter to the building of a brand new house for […]
June 14th, 2010 at 8:46 am
[…] several hours in a little korean restaurant. i listened to her story and then told her mine from my first trip to rwanda, a story so strange and otherworldly, it felt more suited to a myth or an ancient bible story. she […]