As I peeked out my window today, I saw nothing but green; green hills rolling one after another, covered in various crops terraced to as close to perfection that one can achieve with a hand-wielded hoe. Bent double, hacking in a rhythmic motion, farmers (mostly women and children) labored the day away on their small plots of land that some call farms. These farmers are working on their .5 hectares or less plots of land to produce a monthly salary of nearly $10. The contrast of the lifestyle that these farmers live and the beauty that I had the pleasure of witnessing is so stark, one cannot describe it.
The farmers produce everything under the hot, equator sun: bananas, coffee, maize (corn to us Americans), yams (sweet and white), soybeans, etc. The food feeds the nation, but not enough to be food secure for the entire year. This is the problem that has brought me to this country; investigating how we can help, how American’s can indirectly provide food for the population of Rwanda.
Back to the scenery…imagine yourself sitting atop a mountain and as you look down across the vista before you, all you see are terraced hillsides from a quarter of the way up to the top. And in-between these hills, the glistening water of the rice patties reflecting a sun that highlights the checkerboard arrangement of them. This land is so pristine and untouched by modern hand that only a few places on earth can equal it. Driving along the road, on my left and right, the street was straddled by huge eucalyptus trees, allowing only seconds of beauty to peak through, teasing you, until you reach the peak of the hill where you can look down and behold the magnificence laid before you. Pictures do not describe, words to not describe, but I will try to do my best with both (pictures to follow, upon my return).
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