it's an invitation.

The church service had been going on for almost two hours when a group of children in matching outfits filled the stage. I sat wide eyed they turned to face where Jonathan and I were sitting. This wasn't going to be a performance for the church, it was something special these children had prepared for our visit. As they began to dance a grin split my face in two and my heart began to swell. I love watching Rwandans dance. They use their entire bodies; they use their entire souls.

A few moments into their song, my friend Innocent leaned over and said to me, "These are the orphans of Bukonya. They have prepared this song you for and for Jonathan. The song they are singing to you says,

'Satan had a plan to destroy us,

but God invited Americans to come and support us.' "

Then, they INSISTED that Jonathan and I join in the dancing.

Incredible to see how joyful they are, how full of life! You were never know they were orphans who have suffered the trauma of genocide.

A few facts for you:

Nearly 1 million people lost their lives in the Rwandan 100 days of genocide perpetrated in 1994.
Statistics suggest that approximately 300,000 children perished.
95,000 children were left without parents, some lost their entire families, siblings included.
95,000 children watched their mothers, fathers and siblings be brutally murdered. Mothers and sisters were often raped by known hiv-positive males, most were throw into ditches, forced to beat, kill and rape each other, or left on the side of the road to fester and die slow, painful deaths.

And these are the smiling, dancing faces you see today. What a transformation.

The truth of their song humbled me. What they are singing is true. It's an invitation. God has invited you to be a part of something. We have the choice to say "yes" and we have the choice to say "no"--that's the gift of free will.

I'm here to tell you this invitation isn't to sell all your belongings and move to Rwanda. It's not to give half of your monthly wages away. This invitation is to make an intentional decision to do good every time you brew a pot of coffee. That's easy enough, right?

It's more than just a cup of coffee.
drink coffee. do good.

the road to bufcafé.

The road to Bufcafé is a hard one. Twenty minutes from the center of town there is a 145-degree left turn that takes you off paved road onto a road of packed red clay that is anything but smooth. The paved road was level. The clay road winds, dips, and climbs its rippled and potted way up into the green Rwandan hillside. There are still people everywhere. They line the sides of the road in bright, often mismatched clothing. I am amazed at their ingenuity, at a stack of sacks the size of a chest-of-drawers strapped to the back of a 13 year old’s bicycle; at a five year old boy balancing on his head a roll of green, leafy sticks as tall as I am and so thick I doubt I could even wrap my arms around it. Who are these people? I have seen the houses they live in. They are small, probably the size of your average dining room and used for as many people as you can fit inside. Sayidi, my driver, fits nine: himself, his wife, six children and two orphans. I have seen their streets, their water, their poverty, and still I marvel at their joy, their passion and their contagious smiles. Who are these people? Where did each one come from? Where are they going? How? And with what motivation? To what end?

The steep, winding road to Bufcafé is also the road to meet Epiphanie. Epiphanie lost her husband in the genocide of 1994. Years later, living in abject poverty with little more than hope for a better future, Epiphanie joined alongside many others at one first coffee washing stations in Rwanda. If the term “coffee washing station” sounds vague to you, imagine what it was for Epiphanie. “No one knew what to do,” she tells us through our translator, Krissy. Less than ten years ago Epiphanie was one woman at one coffee washing station. Today she not only runs one but employees nearly 7,000 Rwandans in the process. Ten years ago she knew nothing about washing coffee beans. Today she is the sole-proprietor and entrepreneur of Bufcafé, one of the more successful coffee washing stations in all of Rwanda. Less than ten years ago she had almost nothing. Today she sells her coffee around the world.

It is impossible not to smile when she looks at you. There is a kindness and a peace that emanates from her smile. She reminds me of an ancient oak tree, well rooted and strong. An economic downturn that reaches even her will not stop her from singing and dancing. (Here is a short clip of Jonathan and I dancing with Epiphanie and her workers when we first arrived at Bufcafé. Epiphanie is in blue.)

You can see it in her eyes. This woman has survived many storms in her life and she will survive this one too. She knows each of her 7,000 employees by name. She knows their families, where they went to school, and who they are as people. She knows that tomorrow is another day, and that her life has the potential to positively impact others.

I am grateful for this meeting with Epiphanie. Not just for the opportunity to know her story, but for the opportunity to know her as a person. For the opportunity to see hope for a better future still shining out from her gentle eyes.

Meeting her has given strength to my dream. A dream that really is more than just a good cup of coffee. The dream is life, justice, growth, health, compassion, truth and reconciliation—it is hope for a better future. We can help Epiphanie, her 7,000 employees and thousands of other Rwandan’s achieve a better life just by drinking their coffee.

Which makes me wonder. How are you doing? Did you have a cup of coffee today? Do you know where it came from and the name of who grew it? Was it good? More importantly, did it do good? I sincerely hope so.