Every day that I wake up in Africa is a HUGE day. A day to change someone’s life for the better, even just a little bit. A day to start an ambition new project, to go an unexpected adventure, to build a new friendship. So much to do, see, and explore, and not enough hours in the day.
Living in Rwanda, I split my time between the village and the city. I love the variation of routine, the different rhythms of life, the balance of it all (okay, maybe not the 3 hour bus rides). And even when I’ve decided that I’m having a terrible day, something beautiful or hilarious will happen and put a smile on my face.
So many funny things happen every single day in Rwanda. Going for a run through the village and having a gaggle of local kids join me for an entire mile. Seeing one of our little imishwe (in Kinyarwanda = “baby chicken,” in Shooting Touch slang = our U13 kiddos) when I show up to practice – and getting greeted with “Good morning!” (no matter the time of day) along with a big smile and a hug. Bargaining with boda boda (motorcycle taxi) drivers over a few hundred Rwandan Francs (1,000 RwF = ~$1), mostly just to sharpen my Kinyarwanda skills. Walking into the bus park in Kigali with my big travel backpack on and HydroFlask in hand, looking like a proper muzungu (white foreigner). Having a friend randomly order me some brochettes (barbecued meat skewers) at the bar, which I accept gratefully without knowing what kind of meat it is (probably goat, hopefully not goat intestine?). Playing 7:30am full court 1-on-1 basketball games to 50 points in the village. Consuming french fries every time I go out to eat because that’s just how they do it here (I’m also down about 20 pounds since coming to Rwanda so I’ll eat all the potatoes, green bananas, rice, and noodles I can get my hands on).
These are just a handful of bright spots, and while there are plenty of tough moments mixed in there as well, those high points make everything worthwhile.
As a good friend and mentor of mine once said of Rwanda, “You have to be strategic in a place like this.” This truth manifests itself in myriad ways. For me, it might mean timing the weather right so I don’t get caught on a boda boda in the rain on the way home from practice, or making sure that my poorly-pronounced Kinyarwanda words are spoken clearly enough for my restaurant order to be understood (I think for a while I was asking for a “baby” instead of hot sauce. I’m clearly still working this stuff out).
But for millions of Rwandans, being strategic is so much more consequential. When you have to decide between attending Shooting Touch basketball practice and cultivating your land before the rainy season begins, the answer is simple. Our women don’t want to miss a minute of practice – for many, it is the highlight of their week. A welcome respite from the daily grind, practice is an hour where basketball strategy briefly overtakes survival strategy. But some weeks our women will show up late to practice because they were cultivating, and while nobody wants that, we have to listen to them and understand the context in which Shooting Touch exists. Everything they do is part of their master plan. It’s not about us, it’s about the communities we serve.
With over two months living in Rwanda under my belt, my love for the places and the people continue to grow, as does my ability to act strategically in both my personal life and in my role at Shooting Touch. Step one of that strategy is de-centering myself from the spotlight.
That is a core value of this fellowship: understanding that our presence here is not about us. It is an easy thing to say, and much more difficult to put into practice, especially when my mere existence draws significant attention to myself. I stick out like crazy almost everywhere I go, which makes blending into the background nearly impossible. But if we take advantage of the attention we receive as muzungus to mobilize more people to show up to the courts, while empowering our Rwandan coaches to be impactful community leaders, we can increase our reach in a sustainable way and do more good. It’s a delicate balance, a strategy that requires years of village-specific research and collaborative program design.
When I look in the mirror, the “white savior” complex often stares back at me. But I don’t shy away from the discussion. In fact, my expat friends and I have discussed the underlying issues of international development work ad nauseam. But we know that what we do here is transforming lives. We see it every day. Our women and children often share their stories with us, telling us how Shooting Touch provided health insurance that saved their life, or helped them gain a scholarship to a school that set them up for a successful career.
Still, I sometimes struggle to reconcile my own privilege – both as a muzungu and as a man – while navigating life in Rwanda. Many of the NGO leaders here are expats rather than Rwandans. I’ve also noticed that the vast majority of government officials, educational administrators, and basketball coaches we interact with are men. Rwanda proudly boasts the world’s highest percentage of female representation in politics: the country’s cabinet is composed of more women (52%) than men, and nearly two-thirds of parliamentary seats are held by female officials, as of 2019. The government is making a major push towards gender balance and is very supportive of our work, but it still feels like men are making the bulk of the important decisions, at least at the local level.
With that in mind, I have started to ask myself more questions about my presence as a white man working for an organization that serves African women and children. How can we expect to develop a new generation of female leaders when they have so few existing role models? I think about my own role as a man sitting at that table. Who’s seat had I taken? Would our plan – to elevate the voices of women in Rwanda – be more successful if another African woman was contributing to the organization, instead of me?
I don’t have the answers to those tough questions. But I’m doing my best to call out this reality and intentionally take up less space, while respecting, honoring, and amplifying the immense strength of the women I work with and work for. As men, we must acknowledge how our behavior – our existence within a patriarchal society – creates pervasive challenges for women. We must lean into the uncomfortable conversations about gender inequality related to sport, health, education, economic mobility, and abuse. We must change the narrative and move towards genuine and sustainable gender balance.
This weekend, Shooting Touch Rwanda will be hosting our biggest event of the year – International Women’s Day. This community-wide celebration of women is our opportunity to advocate more loudly than ever for gender equity, and to speak out against gender-based bias, discrimination, and abuse. The event will bring together men, women, boys, and girls from four of our communities to participate in a 5km Car-Free Zone March, a 3-on-3 basketball tournament, community health education, and free HIV/STD testing. Lately I’ve been working as hard as I ever have in my life, and I’m loving it. I feel incredibly grateful to be a part of this organization.
Utilizing the immense privilege that I have been afforded because of my birthplace, ethnicity, gender, and socioeconomic status, I found my way to Rwanda with the goal of contributing my time and talents towards an important cause. And that’s what I will continue to do, while also acknowledging my privilege and working hard every day to create space and opportunity for Rwandan women and youth.
This isn’t about me. Or any of the Shooting Touch Rwanda Fellows, or even Shooting Touch. It’s about the women who have to strategize every day in order to survive, keep their children healthy, manage their homes, businesses, crops, or livestock, and play basketball with their friends when the work is done.
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