The more I learn about this man, the more humbled I am to be his cousin

You see the resemblance, don’t you?

There is an impactful date in my friend’s life, April 21, 1994. In honor of his own family’s story of that date, Romain has designated the day “Family Day” for himself, and it is when he considers the family that mean most to him. Romain adds to his family the people he cares the most for. Years ago, he told me that I am his family and I am included in his Family Day, and we have been cousins ever since.

We called ourselves The Three Musketeers at Brandeis. I met these two in our International Mediation studies, when I was the only person from the United States in the program. My favourite funny story with Romain is that when in class once he explained he was from Rwanda, I admitted my ignorance and asked if he could help me understand where on the continent his country was. Romain didn’t give me an inch. His response with a warm smile and an eager gaze: “It’s right next to Burundi.” I was humbled. I went home that night and promptly memorized the location of Rwanda, Burundi, and a few nearby countries, for good measure.

Today, the three of us all call the United States home. They both found work in Massachusetts and we have been able to keep our friendship tight despite the miles between the boys and me.

Father Romain texted me this Spring to invite me to a little celebration. The 30th anniversary of his ordination fell near his 60th birthday. A friend had decided to organize a gathering and an opportunity to honor this man that her family loved. I bought plane tickets! It was a no-brainer.

I was touched when he wanted to spend the whole morning with me before the celebration, and catch up. First, he showed me his current work location at the Department of Veterans Affairs Hospital Campus in Brockton, Massachusetts. Coincidentally, that was the absolute first VA facility I ever entered, when I was desperately poor and needed glasses for school, I went and got help from VA. We toured the buildings, interestingly all connected by a maze of underground passages. I met his fellow Chaplain, who was covering work for him that day so he could be honored later.

Then he took me to some of his favourite trails, and we walked at the Carlisle Cranberry Bog and talked for hours.

Then! It was time for action. Romain had to get ready. He would be leading a service at his church, then we would walk to the event space and celebrate. We both had to change. Fr. Romain took me to the church and introduced me to some women and said goodbye. I only saw him from a distance after that.

The woman helping me find a place to change and refresh turned out to be the mastermind behind the event. She, her husband, and their two grown kids are huge fans of Romain. I have to assume they are in his family too, when he thinks about his family on Family Day. She said the banquet hall was set for 200-250 people and she wondered aloud if she had expected too many people to actually come. No matter how many came, she had done a spectacular job. The place was gorgeous and set perfectly.

She continued to take great care of me. She found me a place beside her in the pews, explained things that needed explaining, opened up the proper books at the proper time, and showed me what to look for. I was wide-eyed most of the time, but so grateful to be welcomed and introduced to this world in a loving way. I asked if I could take photos, and she said I could photograph anything. So I did.

People came from multiple facets of Romain’s life. In his journey in the United States in the past twenty-five years, he has been a part of three different congregations. Fans, friends, family, came from all three churches. From school, he had me and Madhawa (from the image at the top). At the table where we sat, I met a group of Californian women who met Romain during a pilgrimage. Additionally, he is an active member of a tight and thriving Rwandan expatriate community. Many of them came to honor him as well.

Once we were all settled, we ate. The food was Rwandan traditional food and it was extraordinarily delicious. Despite the surge of more guests than expected, there was plenty of food and plenty of space, though some people had to be seated at tables outside the main banquet hall.

He was honored by speaker after speaker, who told stories, thanked him, gave him gifts.

At one point, someone pulled up a song on their phone, and every Rwandan person sang. I do not know the song, but they all had it memorized. It was a powerful experience.

I finally pulled Romain away from the others because Mads and I were getting ready to leave. Romain said he was tired and would be leaving soon too. (We found out days later that he had been pulled by the inescapable gravity of people demanding his company, and he was awake until the wee hours.)

If you’ve made it through this whole thing, I thank you for your indulgence. Romain is so important to me. I’ll never be able to express it fully or satisfactorily, either to him or to you. He is more filled with generosity, joy, and love than most people I have ever met, and that makes him so large in my estimation. And yet, with the personality of a giant of humankind, he chooses to spend time with me, and to call me friend. I only hope that I can earn his continued good esteem for the rest of my life.