fuckyeahcycling: Rwanda’s cycling team Nathan Byukusenge (L) and team mates stand on the podium of the first stage of the Amissa Bongo cycling race, on April 24, 2012 in Lambarene. AFP PHOTO / PATRICK FORTPATRICK FORT/AFP/GettyImages (via Cycling - Photo Gallery - Yahoo! Sports) Philip Gourevitch wrote a great piece about the Rwanda cycling team for the New Yorker. Take note of this one and read it over the weekend. It’s a great piece. You can find it online here. In northwest Rwanda, in the wet, chilly foothills of the Virunga volcanoes, the soil is black from lava, and ideal for growing potatoes. As a small child, armed with a sack, Gasore began making the rounds of village trading centers to scavenge fallen bits of potato. On good days, he might find a banana or an onion, too. When he was orphaned, he became a maibobo, a street kid—one of hundreds of thousands of children in Rwanda without adults to shelter them. Amid the country’s general poverty and hardship, theirs was a particularly mean existence, but for Gasore it was not such a big change. As he grew, the potato dealers put him to work, filling the hundred-kilo sacks that they trucked out to the rest of Rwanda. He was paid a coin here, a coin there, and, because he knew how to live without money, whenever he saved five hundred francs (nearly a dollar) he hid it away.

fuckyeahcycling:

Rwanda’s cycling team Nathan Byukusenge (L) and team mates stand on the podium of the first stage of the Amissa Bongo cycling race, on April 24, 2012 in Lambarene. AFP PHOTO / PATRICK FORTPATRICK FORT/AFP/GettyImages (via Cycling - Photo Gallery - Yahoo! Sports)

Philip Gourevitch wrote a great piece about the Rwanda cycling team for the New Yorker. Take note of this one and read it over the weekend. It’s a great piece.

You can find it online here.

In northwest Rwanda, in the wet, chilly foothills of the Virunga volcanoes, the soil is black from lava, and ideal for growing potatoes. As a small child, armed with a sack, Gasore began making the rounds of village trading centers to scavenge fallen bits of potato. On good days, he might find a banana or an onion, too. When he was orphaned, he became a maibobo, a street kid—one of hundreds of thousands of children in Rwanda without adults to shelter them. Amid the country’s general poverty and hardship, theirs was a particularly mean existence, but for Gasore it was not such a big change. As he grew, the potato dealers put him to work, filling the hundred-kilo sacks that they trucked out to the rest of Rwanda. He was paid a coin here, a coin there, and, because he knew how to live without money, whenever he saved five hundred francs (nearly a dollar) he hid it away.

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    The Rwandan cycling team. Now THIS would be a great Cool Runnings 2. Very inspirational story. “In northwest Rwanda, in...
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    Philip Gourevitch wrote a great piece about the Rwanda...New Yorker. Take note
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