Read Online The Blue Sweater: Bridging the Gap Between Rich and Poor in an Interconnected World by Jacqueline Novogratz - Free Book Online
Authors: Jacqueline Novogratz
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visit the mountain gorillas, the national park, and the beautiful lake region."
"What about work?" I smiled.
"Oh, yes, you can work, too," he answered.
I laughed. "This could be a very good life-work during the weeks and explore the country on weekends!"
"Mais, bien sur," he said with a wide grin. "Rwandans don't go to those places because they are so expensive. But I can take you, a foreigner."
On the 15-minute drive to town in the white, UN-issued four-wheeldrive vehicle with the familiar pale blue UNICEF logo on the side, I saw flowers blooming everywhere, and the main road was smooth and clean, though I could see red dirt streets and paths running across the hillsides of the city like the loose weaving of a child's pot holder. Square little houses in Candy Land colors-bright pinks and blues and yellows-sat back from the roads, each with its own little garden. Billboards for condoms and soap, for car repair and face bleaching creams stood alongside the road, advertising goods the poor could spend money on to become whiter and more Western. And this was a country without television. In 1987, the consumer culture hadn't even begun to penetrate it.
We dipped into an industrial area filled with trucks and cement factories and then climbed a hill toward town, where the world turned suddenly, shockingly greener. Bright red flame trees, purple jacaranda, yellow angels' trumpets exploded in a profusion of colors. The sweet smell of frangipani wafted through the air, and the hips of women with baskets and bananas on their heads swayed to and fro. The streets were lush and redolent with flora and birds swooping through green canopies: a pocket of paradise.
Once we got into central Kigali, we drove up the long hill past an imposing church to the main roundabout, where the post office stood next to three small banks, all native to Rwanda. I was struck immediately by how clean and organized the city was. A big, yellow hospital, the parliament building, and an entire row of international aid organizationsthe United States Agency for International Development, the United Nations Development Program, the World Bank-lined the main avenue. Kigali stood apart from other African capitals in its quaintness. With a population of just about a quarter million then, it lacked the grandeur and ostentation of Abidjan, the urban intensity of Nairobi, and the feeling of destruction in bombed-out Kampala.
On the side roads were embassies hidden behind brick walls and metal gates, including those of Germany, Belgium, France, Russia, China, the United States. You could discern the colonial history of this country in the names of the nations represented. Though Rwanda has no substantial natural resources or port access, it is a helicopter flight away from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then Zaire), one of the world's most resource-rich countries, with reserves of plutonium and uranium. In the chess game of the cold war, Rwanda had thus occupied a privileged position with superpowers that wouldn't otherwise have noticed its existence.
We drove up a dirt road to the UNICEF office, a white, two-story building with arched rooftops behind a metal gate. Next door, a schoolyard filled the air with noises from uniformed schoolchildren, the girls in bright blue skirts and the boys in khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirts. A shirtless boy by the roadside in ragged shorts herded a half dozen longhorn cattle. We were driving behind a white Mercedes, the first of many we saw on the roads, standard issue for government officials and distinguished diplomats. For most people, walking seemed to be the primary mode of transportation. The roadsides were packed with women carrying their wares on their heads, schoolgirls holding hands, men walking arm in arm. I liked the sleepy, easy feeling of the place.
On my first afternoon in the office, Boniface explained the UNICEF system for employees: "Everyone without a car-in other words, most Rwandans-is picked up
"What about work?" I smiled.
"Oh, yes, you can work, too," he answered.
I laughed. "This could be a very good life-work during the weeks and explore the country on weekends!"
"Mais, bien sur," he said with a wide grin. "Rwandans don't go to those places because they are so expensive. But I can take you, a foreigner."
On the 15-minute drive to town in the white, UN-issued four-wheeldrive vehicle with the familiar pale blue UNICEF logo on the side, I saw flowers blooming everywhere, and the main road was smooth and clean, though I could see red dirt streets and paths running across the hillsides of the city like the loose weaving of a child's pot holder. Square little houses in Candy Land colors-bright pinks and blues and yellows-sat back from the roads, each with its own little garden. Billboards for condoms and soap, for car repair and face bleaching creams stood alongside the road, advertising goods the poor could spend money on to become whiter and more Western. And this was a country without television. In 1987, the consumer culture hadn't even begun to penetrate it.
We dipped into an industrial area filled with trucks and cement factories and then climbed a hill toward town, where the world turned suddenly, shockingly greener. Bright red flame trees, purple jacaranda, yellow angels' trumpets exploded in a profusion of colors. The sweet smell of frangipani wafted through the air, and the hips of women with baskets and bananas on their heads swayed to and fro. The streets were lush and redolent with flora and birds swooping through green canopies: a pocket of paradise.
Once we got into central Kigali, we drove up the long hill past an imposing church to the main roundabout, where the post office stood next to three small banks, all native to Rwanda. I was struck immediately by how clean and organized the city was. A big, yellow hospital, the parliament building, and an entire row of international aid organizationsthe United States Agency for International Development, the United Nations Development Program, the World Bank-lined the main avenue. Kigali stood apart from other African capitals in its quaintness. With a population of just about a quarter million then, it lacked the grandeur and ostentation of Abidjan, the urban intensity of Nairobi, and the feeling of destruction in bombed-out Kampala.
On the side roads were embassies hidden behind brick walls and metal gates, including those of Germany, Belgium, France, Russia, China, the United States. You could discern the colonial history of this country in the names of the nations represented. Though Rwanda has no substantial natural resources or port access, it is a helicopter flight away from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then Zaire), one of the world's most resource-rich countries, with reserves of plutonium and uranium. In the chess game of the cold war, Rwanda had thus occupied a privileged position with superpowers that wouldn't otherwise have noticed its existence.
We drove up a dirt road to the UNICEF office, a white, two-story building with arched rooftops behind a metal gate. Next door, a schoolyard filled the air with noises from uniformed schoolchildren, the girls in bright blue skirts and the boys in khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirts. A shirtless boy by the roadside in ragged shorts herded a half dozen longhorn cattle. We were driving behind a white Mercedes, the first of many we saw on the roads, standard issue for government officials and distinguished diplomats. For most people, walking seemed to be the primary mode of transportation. The roadsides were packed with women carrying their wares on their heads, schoolgirls holding hands, men walking arm in arm. I liked the sleepy, easy feeling of the place.
On my first afternoon in the office, Boniface explained the UNICEF system for employees: "Everyone without a car-in other words, most Rwandans-is picked up
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