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
Homeward bound. Homeward reflections. A myriad of images flicking through my head. A kaleidoscope. Looking into it, I see Beatrice in the yard washing Valence in a bowl. Christine proud when she handed me a gift. Joseph walking to church in the new tweed hat we had given him. Pissing in a bucket at night because I was too scared to go to the pit in the dark. The rain lashing on the tin roof making a racket and us watching from the doorway as torrents become streams running down the hill past the house. Belly laughs at bedtime.
Looking back, I do think I was fighting back tears a lot. Sandrine's sore eye, puffy and weeping, stopped her from singing to us. The village children running up and down, up and down, seeing us and shrieking. The whole slideshow of the experience of Rwanda will stay forever lodged in my head. A good thing. This was my chance to feel the place. By turning off the phone I could do that. No contact with my loved family or friends. It has been a life-changing experience.
I have felt Rwanda and I have also seen it, heard it and smelled it. More images: watching the eager smiling women's faces. Watching the rhythms of their dancing. Sitting in the yard in the dark with the family peeling the potatoes. Eating the porridge and heaving. Listening to Beatrice's story; a tale which is long and winding, and shows her resourceful nature and courage. Watching the lightning flashing over the mountains.
Above all, listening when the HIV ladies project tell us how they got themselves organised for the monthly Rwandan National Clean Up Day to spread their word and educate other women to get tested and be safe. To not be scared. A woman from the farmer's co-operative who'd been evicted after her husband died by his family and her fight to get back her land and farm. The camaraderie and strength of the women as they try to be recognised and end gender-based violence and sexual abuse. Listening as they explain how, if you don't marry by 30, then you are abused and ostracised by the community as a freak possessed by witchcraft.
I'm not claiming to have done any more than peek through a small window to experience Shingiro in Rwanda with Beatrice and her family for four short days. It was moving. It was sad. It was funny. It was much more. You just couldn't fail to feel the fizz and bubble of the people I met or appreciate that they live it hard. It was amazing. I am privileged.
