ActionAid offered one Guardian reader the opportunity to go on a life-changing trip to see the charity's work first-hand in Rwanda. Jean Woodhouse, 48, kept a daily blog of her experiences, thoughts and feelings, which we're publishing here
I have never seen such poverty in my life as today. We had gone down to the stream with Beatrice to help her with the washing, and on the way were followed by the children of the village who all looked so dirty. Beatrice told me they only had the clothes they were wearing. I wanted to undress them all and add their torn clothes to our pile to wash. But more, I just wanted to click my heels and magically change their lives.
The stream is a mile from the house, and this is where Beatrice used to get all her water from, but ActionAid have put some water butts at the school by her house, so she only has to come to the river to do the washing – although she has so many children she still has to come here once a day.
She carries the washing in a bucket on her head. It must be heavy on the way back when it is wet. As we walked back up the hill one of the little village boys held my hand. In comparison to Beatrice's children who all look clean and well cared for, these kids look destitute and desperate. It really disturbed me, it was touching to have the boy hold my hand, but harrowing to think about their lives and their prospects.
My emotions are further stirred by a visit to an ActionAid-supported HIV co-operative in a neighbouring village. Outside their centre we are greeted by a group of women who are waiting eagerly to see us. I meet their leader, a beautiful woman called Jacqueline. She is a tall, powerful presence with prominent features and braided hair. I am overwhelmed by her appearance and forget she has HIV.
The women sing us a greeting song, they are all smiling and dancing and look so strong. Inside we learn that they didn't used to be so strong; they were all sick and destitute, they were outcasts. People didn't want to touch them or eat with them for fear of contracting HIV.
Jacqueline tells us that they got together and asked ActionAid for support and managed to build this house, where they meet. They gain income by renting out rooms. They even have electricity. They also grow crops such as maize and mushrooms to give them an income. Now their community see them as strong and they are being treated by the local clinic so are not so sick any more.
A woman stands up and tells me her name is Lucy and she wants to testify. She stands proudly. She is thin and small in a purple blazer and cream blouse. She wears patent shoes and reminds me of my mother-in-law in Belfast in her mass outfit.
Lucy's story is horrific and just one of many. She saw both her parents killed in the genocide and was then gang raped. She was just 15 years old. She became pregnant with twins and fled to the Congo as a refugee. When she returned to Rwanda she found out she was HIV positive. She was rejected by her remaining family and was so damaged by her experience she saw all men as animals and was scared of them. Then she found the people of this co-operative and they gave her psycho-social support, and helped her to recover her dignity.
I am a strong woman. I am not easily moved. But I sobbed from my guts listening to her story, watching her clutch her hands and seeing her straight, slim shoulders. Even now, recounting it, it makes me well up. Lucy invites us to her home and it is like a cowshed, just sticks in the ground filled in with grass and straw. Such a contrast to the view from her front door, which is beauty of biblical proportions.
It is impossible after what I have seen not to react and try to give as much support as I can. It makes me feel that this immersion that I am experiencing does give this little bit of Rwanda I have experienced a voice. It would be unthinkable not to offer the community at least this.
