We had the chance to go to a traditional Rwandan dance rehearsal. It was held

in an empty stone building with broken windows and wooden benches piled up

against the sides. As we came in, the director warmly greeted one of our

MindLeaps teachers, Bashir, and welcomed us in. We observed in awe. Our

heads were bouncing to the loud drum beats that were being pounded out at the

front of the room. Chants, traditional yelling, and screaming accompanied their

stomping feet and spiriting jumps. As soon as they finished on the final drum beat

(with the men usually doing some virtuosic jump), they would immediately start to

banter. I asked Bashir what they were saying and he explained it was usually,

“Hey, hey, hey, we weren’t together” or “that tempo was too fast!”

We watched their run through, which consisted of the men stomping in unison

and the women making intricate formations with arm movements that waved like

water with glowing smiles on their face. Dust rose from the cement floor as the

piece got more intense, the drums pounding so loud that you could barely hear

their traditional singing. The end erupted into a spirited improv circle. Each took

their turn with pride – and a little sass – their movements becoming ironic, as if to

say “did you see that?” There was so much freedom and abandonment in how

they moved. It seemed there was total control and awareness over their bodies

without any self consciousness. I asked myself, “With such specific technique, do

we train the mover out of the dancer?” These rhythms meant so much more than

counts, and the movements more than shapes. I could feel each person’s spirit in

full celebration. I was reminded once again: enjoy more, celebrate more – it’s

what dance is made for.

We thanked them for generously hosting us, and hopped on our motos to find

some dinner. Sweaty and dirty from a long day, the night air felt good on my skin

as the driver sped down the street. Mine was particularly risky tonight, weaving in

and out of traffic. I got nervous but then looked to my left and my jaw dropped.

The rolling hills were sparkling with soft lights from the homes. It looked like a

million stars that had fallen on the city. I thought I liked the soft morning light

here, but Kigali – your nights are leaving me speechless.

I am back home

in Montreal, and Rwanda seems worlds and lifetimes

away. I feel as though I left a part of me there – a part of me that MindLeaps can hold

onto and use to grow. I also feel that I’ve taken back a piece of Rwanda – a huge

piece of the soul and heart of the place and all that I experienced there.

There is a particular emptiness inside as I sit in my apartment and take in

the past two weeks – though a different emptiness than before I left for Africa.

Before I left, I felt something was missing in my life, like I needed some

huge purposeful event to fill me back up with joy and light. And now, after I have

been filled up with so much love, knowledge and respect for the journey I had in

Rwanda, I am empty from missing it so much – missing the culture, the people

and the way of life, but most importantly, the kids at MindLeaps. They have left a

permanent stamp on my heart, and they are all I can think about as I sit quietly at

home.

I think these first few days will be hard, trying to readjust to my regular life after

being immersed in such a humble and loving culture – including all the

devastation that took place there. I will take it one day at a time, but this

experience will weigh heavy on my heart for some time I’m sure – even though it

has completely lightened my life