Introducing Chief Gardener: Jean Pierre

Jean Pierre Barahira is the trusted Chief Gardener (and guard) we have  relied upon at our home this past year.  His capacity for English is developing faster than my Kinyarwanda, yet there are many conversations we've not yet had.  I’ve been anxious to know about Jean Pierre’s life, yet I’ve not wanted to dive too soon into a story so personal. With the help of my language tutor, Silas, I finally found the words and time to get to know this man better.  I will attempt to highlight some of Jean Pierre’s fascinating story here.

Jean Pierre estimates he was born around 1965-1966 (birth records are sometimes unreliable here). He is the 7th of 14 children born in the town of Rwamagana, in the Eastern lowlands of Rwanda. He did well in primary school, and earned the right to continue his education but was frustrated when it became known his parents were too poor to support the modest fees required.   So, at about age 12, Jean Pierre began working in the local cassiterite mine. Many boys his age were injured or died in this dangerous underground work, but after three years in the job, he left to accept a job he now claims turned out to be even more dangerous. Jean Pierre began working for the only major hotel in his part of the country, the Akagera Hotel. His duties entailed cleaning the rooms, washing and ironing clothes. It was deemed a very good job, but the danger came in the commute. Jean Pierre and the other boys who worked at the hotel lived 30 Km (18.6 miles) away. Some had bicycles and all would speed as fast as possible, but many fell prey to the lions and Cape buffalo that lived near the road. After four years, Jean Pierre had the opportunity to live with his Aunt in the big capital city of Kigali.

The first year Jean Pierre lived in Kigali, he was unsuccessful in finding work. The second year, Jean Pierre found a job as a taxi-bus ‘conductor’, helping to fill and collect fees from passengers on the road to and from Gisenyi. He kept this job for nearly three years, but developed some stomach problems that eventually made it impossible to eat properly or go into work. It was also about then that the disturbances leading up to the genocide reached a fever pitch. Jean Pierre’s friends and relations would travel from place to place trying to get away from the killing and angry mobs. For three months, they never stayed for more than two nights in one place, and every day they faced the possibility it would be their last. By July, the roaming group decided to escape over the Western border to D.R. Congo, choosing instead to face the squalor of a refugee camp, where at least you could be assured nobody would try to kill you. After three months, Jean Pierre prepared to return to Rwanda, and offered to take others with him. Most of the friends and relatives he knew refused to return (although disease and hunger took many lives each day), fearing what they would find if they went back. Jean Pierre has since learned all those that remained have since passed away. Of the 14 brothers and sisters in his family, Jean Pierre is one of only four that survive today.

It was at this point I told Jean Pierre I now realize how fortunate I am to know him. (to be continued…)

Onward & Upward,

-Carter