Bourbon

"The Rwandans, rallying around their national pride, have built predictable systems that reward enterprise and hard work, and created an exceptional blueprint for other developing countries.”
- Former President Bill Clinton

Shelly is the director of a local touring company. She first came to Rwanda in 2006, after learning about the country from her son's 5th grade research project. Soon she met her husband here and made the move from Seattle to be with him.

Alex, originally from Boston, is just completing his Master's in International Development. His thesis focuses on the ever-growing model of Rwanda. He currently resides in Kigali and manages social media for a local NGO.

Daniel heads a renewable energy company. After successfully growing his business in Israel, he began to expand into Africa. His latest expedition was divided between Uganda and Rwanda, as he develops strategic partnerships with local corporations.

Claude grew up in Rwanda but has lived throughout much of East Africa. He has been involved in a number of social service organizations and currently manages an NGO for Child Support.

These are just a few of the personalities I've encountered at my favorite cafe, Bourbon Coffee. From its website: "Bourbon Coffee first opened its doors in Kigali, Rwanda in 2007, and has expanded to eight different locations across Rwanda and the United States. We are an international brand of specialty coffee, and the first retail brand to originate from Africa. Our stores are built around the philosophy of producing coffee from 'crop to cup' – while sharing our coffee with the world, we are also promoting sustainable practices, economic development, cultural unity, and helping to reshape the global image of Rwanda and its economic development and culture....Bourbon Coffee’s vision is to stand as a symbol of [a] new era in African economic development, one in which African nations rise to participate directly in the global marketplace."

Aside from brewing arguably the best coffee on this side of the equator, Bourbon has become a hub for business-people of every variety and nationality. But what makes this boutique coffee shop different from your local Starbucks is this: the executives and entrepreneurs who converge here are interested not only in making a buck, but in actively rebuilding and reshaping the nation. Profit is merely the method; development is the goal.

This has been the case for every individual (including, but far from limited to, Shelly, Alex, Daniel, and Claude) I've had the privilege of meeting at Bourbon. And in many ways it highlights a growing attitude toward international development, one focused on attracting private business and investment rather than foreign aid.

This approach, of course, shouldn't be a novelty to anyone with even a cursory understanding of basic economics. It is the backbone of Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, and has since been referred to simply as The Invisible Hand (though Smith himself only used the phrase a handful of times). In short, the theory states that by maximizing one's individual profits, society as a whole becomes better off. Not only does the competition between buyers and sellers produce improved products at lower costs, but the process ensures that the right products, services, and infrastructure are being created. If, say, one can profit by selling shaving cream, that is because society needs more shaving cream. Socially desirable ends, then, are the result of selfish means, not benevolent policies. Free markets, many times, become better equipped at dealing with social problems than government agencies.

This is not to say that selfless motives should be looked down upon. On the contrary, the world could use more well-intentioned people. But this theory does provide us with a way of identifying societal needs: finding opportunities for profit. Indeed, the developed world became what it is through the promotion and advancement of industry. My Global Economics professor at NYU constantly emphasized that lower-class workers in America today have a better standard of living than kings did in the Middle Ages. What worked for the developed world, it seems, could and should also work for the developing world. A friend of mine even goes so far as to suggest that the international community stop all foreign aid to Africa. Yes, it will hurt at first. Will people suffer? Probably. But the long term benefits of such a hard-lined approach could be unparalleled. Teaching a man to fish goes infinitely further than feeding him a fish.

This brings us back to Rwanda, which has invested heavily in the private sector to accomplish the goals of Vision 2020, an all encompassing program designed to transform the country into a technology-based, middle-income economy. In the late 90's, current President Paul Kagame met with leaders and visionaries from around the world to actively plan a trajectory for national development. What emerged was a method focused on business rather than aid. Vision 2020 outlines a number of key principles, including good governance, an efficient state, skilled human capital (education, health, IT, etc.), world-class infrastructure, and a vibrant private sector.

Indeed, history also plays a role in Rwanda's reluctance to rely on foreign aid. The genocide in '94 is a very controversial subject, but one thing seems to be agreed upon unanimously: the nation felt abandoned by the international community. The world powers knew of the growing tensions in Rwanda. They knew about the planned decimation of an entire people. Romeo Dallaire, the UN Force Commander tasked with restraining the escalating conflict, even believed he could keep the peace with a mere 5,000 troops. In classic UN style, his request for support and resources was denied. Because of the many recent failures elsewhere in Africa (most notably the U.S.'s debacle in Somalia a few months earlier), the UN and world powers consciously decided to keep their distance. As someone born into an environment of "Never Again," I am pained by the "failure of humanity in Rwanda" (Dallaire's term).

Can Rwanda, then, be expected to rely on outside assistance to meet its most basic needs? The current administration refuses to be at the mercy of foreign governments who can at any moment withdraw their support. Rwandans are now tasked with controlling their own destiny. They are building their nation from the ground up, and quite frankly a Rwandan's resolve is rather difficult to break.

How much of Rwanda's development agenda can be attributed to economic ideology and how much is the result of historical processes is up for debate. What is certain, though, is that this new approach works. The country isn't only surviving, it is flourishing. In the past 10 years alone, 12% of the population (over a million people) has risen out of poverty. The current administration has reduced child mortality by 70%, and malaria related deaths have decreased by 85% between 2005 and 2011. The last 20 years have also seen the life expectancy rise by 20 years.  And to top things off, the economy has grown by an average of 8% annually over the past five years.

Such previously unimaginable progress, coupled with Rwanda's favorable business environment, has attracted the best and brightest from all around the world. Freelancers, entrepreneurs, merchants, and executives are flocking to this small, landlocked country smaller than the state of Maryland. And for good reason. Unlike futile aid efforts in places like Haiti and Nepal, Rwanda shows how foreign capital can be put to good use. [For those interested in more information on Rwanda's economic progress, I highly recommend Rwanda, Inc.: How a Devastated Nation Became an Economic Model for the Developing World, by Patricia Crisafulli and Andrea Redmond.]

So as I sit at Bourbon Coffee savoring my Iced Caramel Macchiato and wondering who I will meet next, I can't help but marvel at this nation. They have overcome tremendous hardships and are now beginning to make Rwanda famous for something besides unthinkable catastrophe: a potential model for overcoming world poverty.

Bourbon itself has illustrated this through its global expansion. It is not uncommon for an American corporation to expand into developing countries, but name me one African company that has operations in the United States. If you asked me to do the same a few months ago, I would have been dumbfounded. Bourbon opened its doors for the first time in 2007 and now has locations in New York, D.C., and Boston. The New York City location, in fact, is on 14th Street in downtown Manhattan, just a few blocks away from where I lived for almost a decade of my life. I can only hope that my experience there upon my return is as inspiring as that in Kigali.

If a tourist asks me what to see in Rwanda, how to get a feel for the country, I would tell him/her to just sit for a few hours in a place that won't be mentioned in any guide book: Bourbon Coffee.

Netanya

There are moments in one's life when he need not describe how he is feeling- his wedding day, the birth of a child, unbearable sickness. At all these occasions, his emotions, be they extraordinarily ineffable or painfully obvious, are visible from a mile away. Inquiring would be superfluous, if not outright insulting. Such was the scene as I disembarked at Ben-Gurion International Airport in Israel on Friday. While I hadn't slept in days, I wasn't the least bit tired. Excitement was all but oozing out of my pores. It had been over three years since my last visit and not a day went by without longing to return. Judah HaLevi, the famous Jewish poet and philosopher, had already expressed my exilic sentiments almost nine centuries earlier: "My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west."

So, naturally, finally being back was surreal. After quickly picking up an Israeli SIM card for my phone, I immediately hailed a cab for Netanya. Shabbat was just a few hours away and public transportation had already ceased. Appearances aside, Israel's lack of "separation of church and state" and I don't always get along. Lucky for me, though, the cab driver had heard of Netanya and was willing to take me there. Two friends from NYU, Cynthia and Gal, live up there and graciously invited me for the weekend. Though my trip is technically for business -- at least that's what I told the lady at customs -- that doesn't mean I can't visit some old friends in the process.

The cab driver, Cobi, was a giant of a man. Towering in elevation and monumental in girth, he was the closest to a Wookie I've ever met. And, much like Chewbacca, he had a heart of gold. In between last-minute calls to friends and family, Cobi pointed out all the sights visible from Route 2. I'll give you the short version- lots of grass and an occasional bus stop. I arrived in Netanya with just enough time to shower, which turned out to be the best shower I've had in months. In Rwanda, the showers are either freezing or gross. Usually both. So, feeling cleaner than Kigali, I was finally ready to start Shabbat.

It was also the first time in a while I was able to pray in an actual synagogue. The locals were very friendly and welcoming, excited to have a new guest. Without fail, the two questions I always get asked in Israeli synagogues: 1) Ah, the United States. You went to Yeshiva University?, and 2) So, when are you moving to Israel? And none of my answers ever seem satisfactory. Right before I left, the gentleman behind me, whose name was also Michael, invited me to accompany him early the next morning to a Talmud class.

The class turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the weekend. It had been so long since I engaged in a deep, meaningful dialogue about Jewish traditions, and much longer since I had opened a Talmud. The text we were studying dealt with which laws apply only to Jews and which laws also apply to non-Jews, as well as how we derive and enforce these statutes. In a broader sense, the text provided a gateway for how Jews should interact with the greater world around them: using our specific traditions and customs to personally serve our Creator, while promoting justice and morality throughout all of humanity. These ideas are especially relevant for my year in Rwanda, where the JDC has tasked me with the responsibility of using my Jewish background to help heal a fractured world.

After the class, I got to speak to Michael a bit more during services (sidebar: some of my most productive conversations have taken place while others are talking to God). He showed me his damaged arm, the remnant of a suicide bombing a number of years ago. This segued smoothly into the amazing feats his children are accomplishing in elite units of the military. Seeing his face shine with pride reminded me of Anne Heyman bragging about her 500 children at Agahozo-Shalom. Finally, Michael insisted that I join him for Shabbat lunch. I'm not usually one to turn down kugel, but I already had plans with Cynthia and Gal.

On Shabbat afternoon, I walked up and down the Netanya coastline- breathing the salty air, taking in the view, and readjusting to the presence of white people. Overall, Shabbat was relaxing, exciting, and all I could have asked for.

Then early Sunday morning, I made the trip down to Jerusalem for my JDC seminar. All of the Global Jewish Service Corps members are spending the week in Israel, engaged in workshops and site visits. The seminar provides us with the opportunity to connect with one another, continue developing a sense of community, build valuable leadership skills, deepen our understanding of the JDC and issues facing the global Jewish world, reflect, and recharge. The days are packed, but each activity looks fascinating. And what better place to be than the Jewish homeland?

Anne

"All I want is to follow the advice given by Elihu, the son of Berachel of old, who said 'I will speak that I may find relief'; for there is a redemptive quality for an agitated mind in the spoken word, and a tormented soul finds peace in confessing."
- Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Lonely Man of Faith

This is one of the most difficult pieces I’ve had to write. As some of you may have heard, the village experienced a tragedy this weekend, one which we are only beginning to comprehend. It is with a very heavy heart and a profound sense of sorrow that we learned of the untimely passing of Anne Heyman, founder and “grandmother” of the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village.

When Sarah the Matriarch passed away, the Bible tells us, Abraham “came to eulogize Sarah, and to cry over her” (Genesis 23:2). There were two aspects to her death- one markedly collective, the other intensely personal. Sarah was a powerful force of good in an otherwise corrupt and chaotic society. She was also Abraham’s life-partner. Her passing signified both of these losses. First, that something vital was lacking in the world needed to be acknowledged. Then, and only then, could Abraham experience his personal grief.

Since its inception, Agahozo-Shalom was always cared for by its own matriarch: Anne Heyman. Her wisdom, love, spirit, and determination have made her into a role-model for everyone she encountered. My personal sorrow cannot compare to that of her family and close friends. But what was true of Sarah is true of Anne: the world just lost one its most fundamental pillars, a guiding force and beacon of hope for anyone in need.

Nine years ago, Anne attended a lecture outlining the obstacles that post-genocide Rwanda faces. Moved by the stories she heard and compelled to help in any way possible, she asked the speaker what he considers to be Rwanda’s biggest challenge. In an instant he responded: the orphan situation. The genocide had torn families apart, and there were now over 820,000 orphans (about 25% of the youth population) throughout the country. In order to ensure a thriving and stable future, Rwanda needed a method to turn its vulnerable youth into socially responsible citizens. Remembering what her own people had faced in the 1950’s, Anne immediately got to work. She looked toward Yemin Orde, a successful Israeli Youth Village, as a model. Unphased by the hurdles that lay ahead, she solicited the help of a number of international organizations and devoted all of her time and energy to making her dream a reality. Anne’s work, the perfect combination of inspiration and perspiration, paid off and the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village was built.

Over the years, the kids at the village began to look up to Anne- not just for her warmth and compassion, but for what she represented: living proof that we CAN make a difference in the world. As these kids knew all too well, their lives would not be on their current path if it wasn't for Anne’s dissatisfaction with the status quo. She had intended to create responsible, self-sufficient young adults. Yet, by inspiring these kids to grab society’s biggest problems by the horns, she accomplished so much more.

Anne’s death, too, represented much to the kids at the village. On a basic level, many of them were concerned that ASYV may be forced to shut down. Anne was more than the founder of the village; she was the face of it. Further, the lives of many of these kids had been a series of tragedies and catastrophes. Life at Agahozo-Shalom was supposed to be different. They were supposed to be safe here. And yet, here they are, forced to grapple with how someone else so beloved could be taken away. “She was a mother to all the children here,” the village director commented, “Most of them are saying, ‘God, why have you made me an orphan a second time?’”

I have only personally known Anne since September, when I began working in the Agahozo-Shalom office in Manhattan. Over the next three months, my time with her mostly consisted of ASYV’s weekly Development Meetings. Though these interactions were brief, certain moments will always stick with me. She viewed every challenge as an opportunity, not an obstacle. The word “no” just wasn't in her dictionary. On one of my first days on the job, when Anne was merely a name I heard in the office, one of my colleagues remarked, “the thing about Anne is, she makes it look easy.”

At the beginning, I was actually afraid of Anne. To me, she was this “go-getter” who I assumed would have a domineering and “in-your-face” personality. And then I met her. True, she is noticeably passionate and determined, but Anne is also your classic Jewish mother. My first few minutes with her was basically a friendly game of Jewish geography. And trust me, she’s good.

But I think what struck me most about Anne is how a pioneer and visionary, in every sense of the word, could also be so intimately involved in the lives of the students at ASYV. Any time we wanted assistance from someone at the village, she always knew which student to ask. It was as though she knew the extra-curricular activities of 500 kids! Members of an organization generally know the name of their leader, I thought, but the leader usually doesn't know the names of all the members. But then I remembered: for Anne this wasn't an organization, it was her family.

How such a tragedy could have occurred is a theological problem that has existed since the dawn of man. Of all the people in this world, was Anne Heyman really the one we could live without? Why is a place named for the Kinyarwanda word “Agahozo,” meaning “tears are dried,” forced to experience such intense sorrow? In short, is there justice in this world?

The problem of why bad things happen to good people was vexing even to Judaism’s wisest and most spiritual leaders. Kings David and Solomon pondered it; as did the prophets Habakkuk and Jeremiah. Indeed, next week’s Torah portion tells of Moses who directly saw the splendor of the Almighty, and yet begged God to explain why He does the things He does: “Inform me now as to your ways, that I may understand you… instruct me regarding your glory” (Exodus 33:13, 18).

It is, however, the book of Job that provides us with the most concrete example of the suffering of the righteous. Job was a simple family man, devoting his life to helping others and serving his Creator. He was “whole-hearted and upright; he feared the Lord and shunned evil” (Job 1:1). Even God could only brag about His most trusted servant to the other heavenly beings. And then, for almost no reason at all, Job was stripped of everything of value. He saw his wealth disappear and his friends abandon him. He experienced the most painful of illnesses and the decimation of his entire family.

As Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik observes, there are two ways to question suffering- one philosophical, the other teleological; one descriptive, and one normative. Throughout most of his experience, Job made the mistake of approaching suffering from the first vantage point. He was more concerned with explaining why such a thing could have occurred than with what he should do about it. This reaction prompted anger and avoidance from God. So long as Job spent his time contemplating reasons and motives, evil and divine justice, God reprimanded him.

This, then, is the lesson of Job: there is no answer to why such tragedies could occur. It is beyond comprehension. “Therefore have I uttered that which I understood not, things too wondrous for me, which I knew not” (Job 42:3). But that does not mean we are helpless. We may not understand tragedy, but we can grow from it. The great question of “why did this happen?” needs to be replaced by “how am I going to respond?”

This weekend, we lost one of our greatest paradigms of the power of the human spirit. Anne’s life, though short, has affected the lives of countless individuals around the world. It is up to each of us to figure out what we are going to take away from her example. For me, I will look to Anne’s spirit, generosity, and unwavering commitment. She taught me to never underestimate my abilities and instilled in me the belief that with the proper effort, I CAN make a difference. This, I hope, will stick with me as long as I live. Now I must ask: what will YOU do to ensure that Anne’s legacy lives on?

One final note. Anne’s passing also corresponded with Rwanda’s National Heroes Day, a public holiday commemorating the countless lives lost in service of the country. While Anne may not have died for Rwanda, she certainly lived for it. Indeed, the theme of this year’s holiday was “Heroism is the foundation of dignity and development.” And there is no doubt that all Anne has managed to build is a testament to that.

Anne, I do not know if you are in a better place. But I do know that wherever you are is now better for having you there.

My First Blog Post (Ever!)

Hi everyone! Thanks for visiting my blog! A number of friends and family have asked me why I am in Rwanda. My gut reaction has always been somewhere in between "Why not?" and "I don't think I understand the question." Why am I here? Seriously? Why AREN'T YOU here? But on second thought, I suppose I understand the confusion. My journey to where I am now happened slowly, and it only makes intuitive sense to someone who experienced it step by step. So how did your typical finance and mathematics student end up deciding to spend a year in the Rwandan countryside? What will he even be doing there? To these questions, I devote my first blog post.

"A beginning is an artifice," Ian McEwan famously observed, "and what recommends one over another is how much sense it makes of what follows." With this notion in mind, there is always going to be a certain degree of arbitrariness in deciding when this part of my life began. Indeed, discounting earlier moments in my personal journey doesn't do justice to explaining such a life-altering decision, nor to understanding the holistic nature of the human condition in general.

That being said, every story needs to begin somewhere. The most tangible starting point, in my mind, is during the spring of my Sophomore Year at NYU, in which I had the privilege of participating in a service trip to Ukraine. A joint undertaking between the Bronfman Center and the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), the trip had the twin goal of learning about global Jewry and volunteering in service projects for the local Jewish community. Calling it a "service trip," though, feels kind of funny, as my companions and I would most likely agree that we gained much more than we believe we contributed. Heck, I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for that trip.

It would take volumes to adequately describe my full experience in Ukraine, so I will only mention a few thoughts. I had always had an interest in learning about diverse Jewish communities around the world, but actually experiencing one first-hand is something different altogether. For starters, there is an innate familiarity that is hard to pin down. No matter where I am, or how different or nonexistent the local beliefs/customs are, I seem to almost always feel at home. In comparing me to my twin brother, a friend once described us as "exactly the same, but completely different." That is how I experience a new Jewish community- "exactly the same, yet completely different." During my time in Ukraine, I was able to learn about its rich history and unique flavor, all while volunteering on meaningful projects such as assembling a playground, painting a house, and pretending like I knew how to use power tools.

Enough about that trip. Suffice it to say that I was deeply inspired by the communities I encountered, by my fellow participants, and by all that the JDC accomplishes. It was then that I learned of a year-long fellowship: The Global Jewish Service Corps. Each year, the JDC sends about 25 young professionals to volunteer all over the world (e.g. Argentina, China, Poland, Turkey, etc.) in a variety of different capacities. Imagine my excitement: I could spend an entire year working on valuable projects, in an exotic location, for an incredible organization!

Fast forward almost two years. Graduation is rapidly approaching and all anyone talks about is the "real world" and "real life." And believe you me, it did not sound enjoyable. It is tremendously important to "grow up" and "get a job" (two of my mom's favorite commands), but I had the rest of my life to do that. Personally seeing the JDC's amazing work, I knew that joining their fellowship was something that I had to do. Then, after a year, I would start my career.

During the interview process, something unexpected happened. The JDC suggested I take a look at their operations in Rwanda and consider spending the year there. Rwanda? Like Africa? Don't people kill each other there? I knew very little about the country, and my intention for the coming year was to help a struggling Jewish community. That is what I knew, and that is what I enjoyed. Nonetheless, mostly to entertain my curiosity, I began a series of interviews with the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village (ASYV), the organization which the JDC assists in Rwanda. At the very least, I would learn a little more about a foreign country.

From my first interview, I was instantly enamored by ASYV. What exactly is the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village? I'm glad you asked! It is a residential community in rural Rwanda for 500 high-school aged vulnerable adolescents, many of whom were orphaned during and after the genocide in 1994. The mission of the village is to enable these kids to realize their maximum potential by providing them with a safe and secure living environment, health care, education and necessary life skills. By restoring the rhythm of life, the village helps those who have lived through great trauma become healthy, self-sufficient, and engaged in the rebuilding of their nation. In fact, Agahozo-Shalom was modeled after Yemin Orde, the famous Israeli Youth Village that Chaim Peri founded in the 1950's to deal with Israel's post-genocide orphan situation. Because of my experience studying the genocide of my own people (teaching at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, organizing Holocaust events and programs for the Bronfman Center, etc.) and some of my more general work with children (camp, Hebrew School, tutoring, etc.), the JDC thought I could be a good fit for ASYV.

As it turned out, much of my academic training fit in nicely with the village's needs. The administration at ASYV was looking for a volunteer with a business background to help with their day-to-day operations. For me, this was something I never imagined. I would actually be able to spend a year doing service work without having to delay my career path. Thus, a beautiful partnership was formed. During the day, my role at the village is threefold: 1) Working in the Operations and Logistics department, where I focus on using data-driven approaches to ensure that each and every department is running as smoothly and efficiently as possible, 2) Assisting the Finance department with Finance and Accounting procedures such as budgeting, reporting, and planning, and 3) Helping the Informal Education department with planning and reporting for special village-wide events.

I also have the privilege of coordinating and leading two extra-curricular activities for the kids when they return from school each afternoon. In the Carpentry Enrichment Program, the children learn basic wood-working skills and help build things for the village (benches, shoe racks, etc.). In the Debate Club, the kids discuss and debate pressing issues in contemporary society. Some of our best debaters even travel to compete against other schools throughout the country. These programs are designed to provide each child with relevant life skills, as well as instill self-confidence and critical thinking crucial for future leadership roles.

Additionally, each volunteer in the village serves as a "cousin" for a family of 16 new students. We act as mentors and role-models, helping to provide a nurturing and supportive home for some of the most inspiring children I have ever met. For those of you still reading this, there is a picture of my amazing family on Facebook. And once I figure out technology, I will add the picture (and hopefully many others) to this blog.

While much of the past year seems to have happened very quickly, I hope that you all now have a better understanding of why I am here and what I hope to accomplish. If you asked me a year ago, the last place I would expect to be now is Eastern Africa. I figured I'd be somewhere in Europe, helping to revitalize a struggling Jewish community. But providence had something different in store for me. And so it was that my work experience, academic interests, and urge to spend a year of service found themselves a home in the unlikeliest of places: rural Rwanda.