The Forgotten, by Pamela B.

Pamela Boulware

Health 3 - Kayonza District, Eastern Province

Motherhood and prostitution have a lot more in common than one might assume. Both are largely thankless professions into which many women unwittingly fall and out of which they rarely, if ever, are able to extricate themselves. Doomed to a life of service to others, most of whom have little if any understanding of the depth of commitment involved in such service, women in these professions are never properly appreciated or decently compensated, and are doomed to be tossed aside like so much refuse once their perceived usefulness has expired.

-The Utter Folly of a Life of Service: Women and the Trap of Selflessness

            The quote above states the obvious; women are not appreciated for the services rendered in motherhood and prostitution. While it is true, women carry the burden of child birth which in many cases women die. This fact has led me to write this entry. On July 10, 2012, I was told that the wife of a teacher at my school died giving birth to their first child, which survived. We have a tendency to associate parenting with solely women. Therefore, there is little or no acknowledgement to the men. However, what happens when, like in this case, women die giving birth. In this entry, I want to take time to acknowledge the role men play in parenthood.

            Since I have begun my service here in Rwanda, I have befriended three families that have been struck with tragedy and the husband has been left to handle the stresses of raising a family alone. In a society that places a big emphasis on women as the structural support in the home, on a 1-hour dusty walk, I was given the privilege to have a quick unplanned chat with a father of one of the families about how his role has changed since the death of his “best friend.” Since finding out about the loss of his wife I tried to keep conversations light and talk about happy things sometimes not talk at all and just walk in comfortable silence. One day while walking to work, I seen a little baby running after her mother which was going to fetch water. The mother told the child to return home, to where I see, what is believed to be the grandmother with three other small children. I look to my friend while shaking my head and asked, “Ri abagabo aho?” Where are the men?

            He was silent for so long I thought he had not heard my question but before I could ask again he said “tumeze hano,” we are here. We continued walking in silence, then he states that in Rwanda, particularly in Mwili, an area in Kayonza. There is a problem with jobs. Many men work near the National Park, which is far. In the village, women may stay at home and men go to work but if one has no wife to stay home with the kids he has to find more work to have more money to pay someone to help take care of the kids. He mentions that here, culture gives the man many family responsibilities that the foreigner will not see or understand because they are not Rwandandese.

As I thought about his last comment I came to understand his meaning, in that living here as an American, people have many ideas about the American people in which they recieve from television, books, radios and word of mouth.  I believe at times it is so easy to hold on to the negative parts of society because its easier to understand while the actuality is rather multifaceted. In a rather complex society, to an outsider such as myself, I have a new found respect for the men in these families.
Only a dad with a tired face, Coming home from the daily race, Bringing little of gold or fame, To show how well he has played the game, But glad in his heart that his own rejoice To see him come and to hear his voice. Only a dad with a brood of four, One of ten million men or more. Plodding along in the daily strife, Bearing the whips and the scorns of life, With never a whimper of pain or hate, For the sake of those who at home await. Only a dad, neither rich nor proud, Merely one of the surging crowd Toiling, striving from day to day, Facing whatever may come his way, Silent, whenever the harsh condemn, And bearing it all for the love of them. Only a dad but he gives his all To smooth the way for his children small, Doing, with courage stern and grim, The deeds that his father did for him. This is the line that for him I pen: Only a dad, but the best of men.

Anonymous