Stories from Rwanda: The Things Goreth Holds
Goreth and her daughter standing outside the kitchen fire in Umutara, where Odette’s mother lives
How can I begin to tell you about Goreth? More than anyone else, Goreth is the one who kills me, the one who makes my heart catch in my throat.
This is strange to me, because for all I can see and every story I have heard Goreth is not suffering in the ways that many people have in Rwanda. She has no genocide story. She has a good education, a loving husband and three amazing children who are funny and bright and good. Until four months ago, she even had a job, a good job that enabled her to send a small tribe of people she loved to school—her brother, her children, her sister, her friend—even if it meant there might not exactly be enough for the other things her family desperately requires.
This is how she is, this Goreth. Holding so many things, keeping a hundred heavy things in a fine balance on top of her wild and wonderful head. Just the sound of her voice makes my heart fill up with appreciation and joy. She is so spirited. So fun. So free.
I will go days and days in Africa meeting many people who only have the most remote sense that the world in some ways has moved on without them. They will hesitate when I ask them what they want, they will fumble when I beg them to tell me what it would take to discover a true heart’s dream. They will not know what I am talking about when I imagine out loud the things that might make the future certain, the ways we could work together to make something good come true.
There are so many, many people like this, but Goreth is not one of them.
Her mind is on fire with ideas. Her body is long and wiry; a total rejection of all the ways Africa insists big is beautiful. She cannot walk slowly on the street like her sisters—“I like to move,” she tells me, laughing, as I try to make my gait match her own. A thousand times over she will tell me we can do this thing or that, her eyes shining with determination. Every idea we generate is better than the last. “If I just had the chance,” she tells me, “I could fly.”
This, more than anything else, I know in my heart is true.
But so far, there is no chance for Goreth. The limitations of everyday life in Africa—that maze of things that everyone else somehow finds the grace to accept—the hours it takes to get from point a to point b, the hassle of no running water, no electricity, limited access to the outside world, no food, no money, no clean water—all this she carries. She understands more than anyone else I met in Rwanda, that these little things combined are sucking the life out of her. It is draining her energy. It is stealing her hope. It is not the way she or any other human being was meant to live. It is too much struggle. Too much effort, for too little return. It is wearing her down. It is making her crazy.
I hesitate to put it all this way because nothing about Goreth is despairing. She is quick to joke. She embodies determination. She does not give up. Still, as I watch her rule her house and take charge of her household, the way monarchs command total and complete respect, I can’t help but wish for her a kingdom, some wide-open expanse where she can act and move and invest and build. Some place where she can be the powerhouse she was always meant to be.
“This is Africa,” she tells me a hundred times over as she teaches me how to use the latrine, as she shows me how to wash, where to bathe, how to pay, where to stand. She is brushing off the hardships, and laughing off the parts that make her weary, the myriad of little things that drive her mad.
After one whole week of cavorting and celebrating and loving and laughing, I can finally see clear enough to understand what it means for Goreth to have lost her job and to continue to be unemployed for four long months, and host a guest like me. In one horrible moment, I understand she is not rich or well off like I might have hoped after eating like a queen at her table in Kigali. I can see clearly the cash I brought to thank her for working with me is nowhere near enough to cover her costs or her needs or her time, and it’s obvious to me that I am leaving her worse off than when I came.
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Don’t worry, Jen.” She tells me, eyes shining, as I give her the last of my dollars and every last thing of value among my belongings. “It’s okay. I know we will be in each other’s lives for a very long time, and that we will help each other. Everything will work out just fine.” She means this and more from the bottom of her heart.
I listen from my room for the last time as she haggles on the phone, trying to convince someone that they should come here now and help us get back to the airport. I can hear the power in her voice, her total insistence and command that her will be done on my behalf, even if there will be a pittance for payment. This is the kind of woman who can do anything. She demands where another woman would beg. She knows she will pay for her audacity. But she doesn’t care.
We hug tight at the airport. After days and days of collecting my tears as everything under the sun touched my heart, now Goreth is the one who is choked up. “Oh Jen,” she says, still smiling, refusing as always to give way to the wall of emotion at her back.
“I love you, Goreth. So much,” I say, pulling her in tight. “We will find a way,” I tell her before turning to catch the flight, before taking my seat in tears, the last passenger to board before the plane pulls away from the gate.
I’m lighting a candle that Goreth will find a good job today, that her children would be happy and fed and that the way would open for her power and creativity to really shine. Then I’m going to Western Union and sending her whatever money I have left in my PayPal account. I’m taking donations of $5 only today, if you feel compelled to express your confidence and hope for Goreth. I know all she needs is the tiniest seed of encouragement and capital to help her find her way, make own dreams come true and know deep down that in all this, she is not without hope or friends.
June 5th, 2008 at 10:39 am
…whew!
…thank you!!
…between you and our friend, Mike T., I’m deeply moved by your stories
…keep ‘em coming
…and again…thanx!!!
June 5th, 2008 at 10:48 am
I am thinking about all the Goreths.
We have so much work to do.
June 5th, 2008 at 10:56 am
Oh Jen, your stories from Africa have amazed and inspired me. Goreth sounds just wonderful as does Odette’s Mother and Brother. What a wonderful strong family, just really trying to get my head around it all and it is difficult. I am so glad you went though and did what you could. Take care my friend, Jen B xxxx
June 5th, 2008 at 11:20 am
I fell in love with her too, reading this.
June 5th, 2008 at 11:26 am
I started reading your blog a week or so ago. What you are doing with your blog by getting these amazing peoples stories out there is so increadible. You are doing amazing things with your life by helping others, and you are inspiring others to do the same. Keep up the great work!
June 5th, 2008 at 11:39 am
Jen, thank you so much for the wonderful African stories and photos you’re sharing with us - and for giving us the chance to help…
June 5th, 2008 at 11:45 am
Such a beautiful and necessary story. Can you change the paypal button to make larger donations possible? Best of luck and thanks so much for the important perspective.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:12 pm
Wasn’t hard at all to donate, even through the tears.
Awesome post - Good work.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:29 pm
Besides donating money, what can we do to help? More hope notes? Are there supplies we can send? How will they get there? I want to do more. Sending you with 400 pounds of luggage once a month isn’t realistic though, I suppose. Please let us know (or at least let me know) if there are ways I can help, in addition to monetary donations.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:51 pm
Thanks for this. I’ve twittered this story, so let’s see what the world of social networking adds. I’ve always loved your writing…I’ll put it on my site and the 12 people that read it will be blessed by the link.
June 5th, 2008 at 1:24 pm
I’ve been so inspired by your stories. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to help.
June 5th, 2008 at 1:38 pm
I was having a very bad day and then I read your post. What a great gift you’ve given me to shift my attention from myself to someone else who needs a helping hand. I understand a small sliver of her dispair - I’ve been unemployed for exactly one year as of today and haven’t been able to find a job. I don’t have the money to donate (I’m literally down to the last few bucks of my savings) but want to help in some way. Is there some other way to offer her some support? Or will you accept funds after today? (I make cards and am just starting to sell them so I hope to have a little bit of income while I’m job hunting). Please let me know if there’s any way I can help.
June 5th, 2008 at 1:55 pm
I am touched by your photos and stories since returning from Rwanda and am happy to donate $5. Thank you for what you do and sharing with us.
June 5th, 2008 at 2:33 pm
(yes, I donated twice in a row, please take it and send to her!!)
June 5th, 2008 at 3:28 pm
Jen
At the end of my work day I have looked forward to reading your posts from Africa. They bring tears to my eyes and hope to my heart.
Thank you for your writings
June 5th, 2008 at 4:39 pm
Hey there. A friend sent me to your site just now, and I’m happy to make a donation for your Rwandan friend. I worked on a small web site project highlighting the massacre in Rwanda about 6 years ago, and I send all the good wishes my heart can hold your way.
June 5th, 2008 at 5:16 pm
I was so happy to scroll through that beautiful story and see a button to donate. Please let us know if there’s anything else that can be done to help. Thanks so much for sharing your stories and your heart.
June 5th, 2008 at 6:03 pm
Jen, I’ve hit the button twice now and I too would like to know what more I can do. I’ve posted on my own blog and added a link to your site as well. Thanks for your wonderful heartfelt stories.
June 5th, 2008 at 7:11 pm
What wonderful stories - thank you for sharing your experiences with us in such moving, heart-trembling detail. And thank you for doing, not just saying; for acting, not just talking. You are doing good work here…and I am happy to help in my small way.
June 5th, 2008 at 8:42 pm
Thank you for helping her. I bet your friendship and visit gave her so much inspiration and food for her soul.
Peace go with Goreth as she runs through the street.
June 5th, 2008 at 11:02 pm
these stories are so powerful. thank you so much for sharing them.
June 5th, 2008 at 11:43 pm
Love this story. Love Goreth, here’s a donation!
June 6th, 2008 at 7:00 am
[…] you been following Jen Lemen’s tales of her time in Rwanda? If you only read one, go read The Things Goreth Holds. Right […]
June 6th, 2008 at 12:18 pm
Ok…everyone in my house donated through my paypal…
This stories are worth more than you will ever know.
June 6th, 2008 at 1:40 pm
Thank you for the beautiful moving stories and for lifting up all of us that read them.
I’m sending out loving kindess to all of the children, Gorteth and Odette and her family.
BIG love,
Kelly
June 6th, 2008 at 2:12 pm
Please accept the mulitple donations from my paypal account, each of my kids asked to donate their allowance for the week. I second the request to either accept donations longer or allow us to donate more (rather than clicking on paypal over and over again!!!)
With love, hope, and so many blessings.
tammy
June 6th, 2008 at 3:00 pm
oh jen.
i wish i lived close to you.
i wish i was a part of your family
June 6th, 2008 at 4:21 pm
I think Goreth and your spirit are the same…courageously BIG! xx
June 6th, 2008 at 6:42 pm
Hi Jen:
I am Rachael Maddox’s mom, and have heard so many wonderful things about you from you. It has been so inspiring reading your amazing writings. I hope to meet you one day. I am in awe of what you have done and are doing to help others. God bless you!
Bev Maddox
June 7th, 2008 at 12:35 am
Wonderful post. I can’t believe I didn’t find you sooner. I blogged about you.
Mary, mom to many
June 7th, 2008 at 1:24 am
She is beautiful, inside and out. Of course I’m happy to give. Bless you, for all you’ve done, and bless her too. I will keep her in my prayers.
June 7th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
Very touching story.. I pray that Goreth has all her needs met. I just donated.. hope it’s not too late!
June 7th, 2008 at 7:37 pm
Wonderfully written portrait.
June 7th, 2008 at 7:50 pm
I’d like to add a donation~ I hope you’re still collecting them! Thank you for everything you’re doing, Jen.
June 7th, 2008 at 8:36 pm
Thank you Jen for bringing me back to what really matters, as you always do…
June 8th, 2008 at 12:32 am
[…] jen lemen - Home « Stories from Rwanda: The Things Goreth Holds […]
June 8th, 2008 at 9:52 pm
[…] you been following Jen’s posts on Rwanda? If not, get over there and read them. Very powerful […]
June 8th, 2008 at 11:57 pm
You’re amazing! I want to do whatever I can to help with this mission. Thank you for taking us all on your journey.
June 10th, 2008 at 1:41 pm
[…] you haven’t read Goreth’s story yet, you really should. I always wondered what my life would have been like in another time, […]
June 11th, 2008 at 9:03 am
[…] What the World Needs Now: Jen Lemen, blogging from Rwanda where she’s doing some remarkable volunteer work, paints a portrait of the incredible bravery and spirit of the people of a failed and desolated country. […]
June 11th, 2008 at 9:49 am
[…] What the World Needs Now: Jen Lemen, blogging from Rwanda where she’s doing some remarkable volunteer work, paints a portrait of the incredible bravery and spirit of the people of a failed and desolated country. […]
June 12th, 2008 at 1:38 am
[…] about this particular project here. And here. And here and here and here and here and here and here (etc.). The woman is amazing, just bursting with love and passion and please if you’re […]
June 12th, 2008 at 1:41 am
[…] What the World Needs Now: Jen Lemen, blogging from Rwanda where she’s doing some remarkable volunteer work, paints a portrait of the incredible bravery and spirit of the people of a failed and desolated country. […]
June 13th, 2008 at 8:43 am
Jen, I found your site today through Shutter Sisters and I just read this post. I know I’m a little late, but I wanted to donate after reading your beautiful and heart-breaking story about Goreth. I would like to pass on the word to my friends, if you are still collecting donations and I’d love to find out how I could do more to help Goreth and others like her.
June 14th, 2008 at 2:55 am
A beautiful and heartfelt post, Jen! I hope that our donations will help Goreth to find her wings so ’she can fly’.
Best wishes,
Serena
June 16th, 2008 at 4:11 am
[…] Please go read them. Perhaps if there’s one story that stands out for me it is this one: The Things Goreth Holds. At the bottom of it there’s a small Paypal button, asking for contributions of just $5. […]
June 16th, 2008 at 10:38 am
Jen,
I, too, wish I could help in a meaningful way, but am limited myself.
Have you heard of Heifer.org who send animals around the world to help families get a leg up? It is an amazing and practical program that has been in place since about 1948. Perhaps they can be instrumental in helping Goreth, then she can help her family, and in time other families, then her village.
July 4th, 2008 at 1:37 pm
[…] is Goreth’s daughter Bella in one of Myriam’s JOY jerseys. It was way too big for her, but we […]
July 6th, 2008 at 5:25 pm
I totally get that this donation drive was one day only, but then I went ahead and ignored that this donation drive was one day only. I have the tiny/huge privilege of actively placing 25 dollars each month, of course because it helps, but also because it keeps me present with the needs of others on a monthly basis, which is a tiny/huge blessing. So, five dollars here and twenty to Odette. Please pass it on as you are able.
Huge respect and admiration.
November 8th, 2008 at 11:02 am
[…] we never talk about on the blog. Last week, for instance, we sent money someone sent us to pay for Odette’s sister-in-law to go to driving school. The week before that we helped Odette’s niece join a banana co-op, […]
June 25th, 2009 at 6:30 am
[…] woman who’s been separated from her kids for five years. I’ll go to see how much Bella’s grown and to help Esteria move into the little house that love built. I’ll go for all these […]
November 16th, 2009 at 9:00 pm
i was searching the meaning of MY NAME then i found lovely story. But this story it remind me everything happened in my life but the worse things for me isaw genocide even if i was young but i got hurt may God bless you.