We live in Hood River, a small town in Oregon that is home to a great bike race, Mt. Hood Cycling Classic. This spring, my husband and I volunteered to host a cycling team for this event. We never dreamed it would be a decision that would change our lives. Our journey begins about a week before the event when we are asked to host Team Rwanda, the first ever professional cycling team from the smallest country in Africa.

The preparations began almost immediately...as it was only a week until they arrived. Jock and I exchanged emails about sleeping quarters for the riders and most importantly food. What do they eat? How do they like it prepared? Jim (my husband) and I talked with the neighbors and we all joined together to welcome the team and make it a week to celebrate. Jim and I began reading anything we could get our hands on about Rwanda and its terrible past. We watched Sometimes In April, a film about the 1994 genocide. We read about the team on their blog and tried desperately to remember names along with their personal stories.

I was outside talking with a neighbor when the Motor Queen pulled up. Jock leaned his head out the window and said his casual hello. The team slowly emerged from the bus but quickly began to smile as they saw the signs and colorful welcoming flags greet them. Rafiki began filming immediately and soon they were all laughing. That laughter became a big part of our week.

The special moments:

• Having five Rwandans in the kitchen, all at the same time and all wanting to help prepare the meal! I would demonstrate how to peel, wash and cut the varied vegetables. Their most favorite it seemed was to peel the cloves of garlic and then use the garlic press. I would show these boys (they did become our boys!) a task once and they would then remember it for the next time.
• Recognizing the click, click coming from the basement as them attempting to figure out the washing machine. Again, one lesson and they had it mastered.
• Coming home from work to find them all relaxing on our patio, laughing and talking. I would change clothes, get out my knitting and sit with them‚...to listen to their laughter. This was also true at meal times. They would sit and eat and talk and laugh for hours!
• Speaking of meal time‚...one meal, four chickens surrounded with vegetables, salad and two loaves of dense wholegrain bread consumed, no problem. Plus dessert.
• A time I remember most was sitting in their room downstairs, all of them, including Jock. They were all casually embraced in someway and hilariously laughing and sharing their tan lines. I enjoyed this moment because it was obvious the trust and respect these men had for their coach, mentor and sometimes friend.