Celebrating The Weavers I Met At beVisioneers

I have been wanting to write about this for a while now. I call it the merge of fellowships.

It all began during the beVisioneers value museum activity. Each of us had brought an item symbolizing our values. I carried The Sex Lives of African Women by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah; a book that, for me, represented confidence, braveness, and independence. Independence, in particular, speaks to me because I have always thought that the view behind concepts like sustainable development is the value of independence. On top of that, we were to align our values with those of the beVisioneers. The values I saw fit here were collaboration, co-creation, and a shared mission. These women came together to give a diverse mix of first-hand stories about their sex lives; a taboo conversation in Africa. I have always wanted to be independent. That is the highlight of my values. I’ve always wanted to never rely on anyone, to be able to accomplish my goals without depending on others. So, we shot a video of me explaining how independence was my greatest value and how my item (the book) showcased the aforementioned beVisioneers values. No sooner had I completed this, than I was reminded of the beVisioneers values in real life.

Immediately after I took a picture with my “value item,” all hell broke loose. I retrieved my phone from a friend whose phone cover had mini suction cups. The suction cups, which were on top of my pre-broken but still working screen, pulled and broke the internal screen of my very old phone. It had been a while since I told myself I would replace the screen or, better yet, purchase a new phone. However, I had had a very difficult year financially, and the highlight of my year was the beVisioneers Global Summit in Kigali. And now, amidst my greatest financial crisis yet, my phone broke; in another country and among strangers.

The first thing I did was walk very fast to the bathroom to cry, for that is how I release heavy emotions. Did I mention this was just day one of the summit?

Take a pause;

When we arrived in Kigali the day before, a group of us; who had met by pure coincidence; had planned a small picnic at Nyandungu Eco-Park. Here we weaved relationships and weaved community. As a group of strangers, we got involved in some very intense conversations about various controversial topics of life. In that discussion, we talked about how different people viewed crying and how we navigated it. Eugene said he doesn’t cry. I said I cry all the time; and that brought forth another back-to-back heavy discussion.

Now come back;

So as I cried in the bathroom, all I could think of was how independent I was not and how dependent I was going to have to be moving forward. While trying to safeguard the work of art I had attempted on my face that morning, I let the tears fall to the ground and clutched my fists tightly to manage those emotions.

I couldn’t help but think of the year I had had; the financial stress, a factor that was further exacerbated by meeting other fellows who had received the stipend that I had not qualified for. And now, as if it were not enough to have started from that foundation, I had to find a way to get money to fix my phone; in a new country, among strangers.

See, I am a very clumsy girl; always have been. It’s why the screen of my phone was broken in the first place. But despite my clumsiness and my phone falling every other day, it still worked. How then could I explain the pain I felt knowing that with all the things my phone had gone through in my hands, what tipped it over was mini suction cups! Eyy! I just cried.

After I thought I had composed myself enough; and was also tired of breathing in bathroom air; I walked out with confidence and sway. I walked to my seat, pulled out my sunglasses, and sat down. I was gonna figure it out. I didn’t know when, and I didn’t know how.

As soon as I sat down, my eyes wandered to the screen, where I saw a large QR code that we were supposed to scan to upload the videos we had just shot! And just like that, the tears began to flow 🤣. What better thing to remind me of my broken phone than a QR code you’re supposed to scan?

To avoid causing a lot of attention, I stepped outside, where a selection of other fellows were connecting and others were having snacks. For a moment, the tears disappeared; until I saw Linus, another Nyandungu Eco-Park fellow. I sat in front of him, my hands on my face, and said, “I am crying.” Without fear of contradiction, I can say I traumatized the man; because immediately after the tears started to flow (and they even came with that shortness of breath that makes you gasp every other minute), he ran by my side and started to shush me like a baby! In the youth-by-youth fellowship, we navigated weaving relationships; which means showing up with intention, presence, and responsibility in how we connect with others. It means seeing that every interaction holds the potential to nurture trust, not harm. I thought about this as Linus panicked and moved to sit by my side as I explained why I was crying. It was because we had weaved that relationship yesterday; a bunch of strangers from Kenya, Rwanda, and Tanzania; who had gotten together with the intention to go for a walk and a picnic.

As we navigated weaving relationships, we looked at revolutionary love; that called us to see no stranger, to open ourselves to them, to let their suffering touch us, and to act in solidarity to protect and uplift them. So, when Catherine (who I hadn’t met before) came to sit by us, Linus explained in detail why I was crying, and together they acted in solidarity to protect and uplift me. Catherine reminded him that crying was a necessary release; Linus reminded me that broken things can be mended; and my phone was easily on that list. Through this interaction, I calmed down and breathed.

But alas! My makeup was already ruined 😤.

Denise was a Rwandan beauty in every way and style. She and Florent had organized the trip to Nyandungu as they were the locals. Denise and Florent’s intentionality reminded me of the concept of weaving communities; learning to recognize the threads that connect people and working with care to strengthen those threads. They had recognized a thread that connected this group of strangers and had taken action to strengthen it. Because of this, I had my community of Nyandungu Fellows. It was Denise whom I approached first to help with my phone, and after asking for details around my phone type, she agreed to take it to someone she knew by the end of the day. This brought tears to my eyes; obviously.

Florent was a weaver and a mobilizer at heart. He had organized the transport to and from the park and ensured that the team; which had been separated because cabs are simply not large enough; had come together. I wasn’t sure he remembered my name, but we had weaved a community together with the other Nyandungu fellows. So, I approached him second. I wanted to ensure that I could gather as much help as possible to avoid failure. If you are from Africa, you know that local artisans have certain limitations; from not having access to the right kind of materials (in this case, the right screen type compatible with my phone) to being too busy (a fact they will never admit to and will always have you come back tomorrow, and tomorrow again!). Florent empathized with me and promised to help. He asked me to call him as well by the end of day! How, without a phone? Well, let me tell you about Grace.

Grace was my roommate; and the epitome of grace, compassion, and revolutionary love. We clicked the minute I walked into the room. Despite having prior plans, she went with us to Nyandungu and weaved a community. It was Grace that I told about my phone issues. It was Grace who acted as a middleman between everyone else and myself. Her phone then became our phone. She reminded me again and again that if I needed to communicate with anyone, all I had to do was find her. It was Grace who called Florent that evening. It was Grace’s phone I used to reach out to my mother to ask for funds. It was Grace who called Denise to follow up on the phone after Denise had taken it to the local repair shop. It was Grace who gave me grace as I needed to cry and rant; and she listened actively and empathetically. It was Grace who took millions of photos of me; because what is a new experience in a new world without evidence? She took a picture of me as I did a presentation, as I read my book in the room, by the pool, in front of the banner, and on the rooftop of the summit center.

She even gave me her laptop to use after the summit for communication and her personal WhatsApp as the platform to reach out to the different Nyandungu fellows as I navigated the summit. She saw me; she saw a gap I couldn’t fill but desperately wanted to; and she stepped into it, no questions asked.

Predictably, the Kigali phone repair persons ran into the aforementioned issues. They claimed that the screen compatible with my phone had to be imported from I-don’t-know-where, and to come tomorrow and tomorrow again; until the summit was over. The last day of the summit was Denise’s graduation, and so she was unavailable. So, I solicited help from Justin; a confident, handsome Rwandan man I had met in a breakout room sometime back. Justin took charge, asked me to get the number of the repair man, called him again and again throughout the day, spoke to him in Kinyarwanda, and then concluded that the man was not serious 🤣. So, he asked for directions to that shop; a place he had never been to; but was intentional about getting there on behalf of the strange Kenyan woman he had met online. As we walked around Kigali, we talked about the differences in culture between the two neighboring countries. We marveled at our differences and were awed by our shared values. The walk was fun. Despite the fact that I was frustrated by the lack of progress with my phone, I felt calm; and I didn’t cry.

Whether it was during their participation in trying to solve my problem, in the care and love they gave me, or even in the fact that they trusted me enough to spend their money on me, believing that as soon as I got hold of my phone I would return it; this group of strangers I met during the beVisioneers Global Summit were true weavers. They weaved community and a relationship with me while echoing the values of collaboration, co-creation, and shared mission.