so I've been pretty bad about updating online in the past month, mostly because I've been all over the place and still without a functional computer! In Rwanda, we'd call it "somehow difficult" to update without a computer!
BUT NOW! thanks to the beauty that is America and wi-fi IN MY HOUSE and computers all over the place, I'm back.
So I'd say that's pretty much the biggest news to report, I'm actually back in AMERICA!
About 2 weeks before Christmas, during one of our usual Sunday conversations, my parents gave me the most beautiful surprise and the best Christmas present of my life. We hatched a plot to bring me home and surprise my dear sisters and friends. My first challenge of the homeward-bound journey was getting my leave request to the Peace Corps office in Kigali. I don't know if I've mentioned this but there's not really a mail system per se, in Rwanda. There are probably 6-8 post offices in major cities and they have PO Boxes for businesses primarily and a few individuals (mostly ex-pats). BUT the population at large does not use this system. So if you wanna get things places withIN the country you have to use bus companies essentially as couriers. You put the name of the place or the person it's going to and their cell phone number on a manila envelope and throw it on whatever bus or moto driver is going from your town/village. I'm lucky enough to have a bus that leaves from my village every day at 6 AM to get people into Kigali and because I speak kinyarwanda, (which they find an absolute HOOT), I'm in with the bus drivers. So I got up at the crack of dawn (5:30 AM) to give my leave form to the driver. The beautiful thing is that you don't have to pay for it, the scary bit is you have no real guarantee it'll get there. So, I put my envelope on the bus with the intention of calling the Peace Corps to let them know when it would be coming so they could send a driver down to the taxi/bus park to pick it up. This was my first insurance since technically the driver is supposed to call when they arrive. I also took the driver's number as insurance policy #2. So I wait around and carry on with my day and then finally call Peace Corps after when it should have been there. She told me it hadn't been there when the driver went to pick it up. I immediately called the driver and couldn't understand him, for the life of me, I couldn't understand a word he was saying. I was just about to lose it because if this form didn't make it, I couldn't go to America...then I was the lucky bug and beneficiary of divine intervention, quite literally. One of my nuns was there at the bus park coming back from their retreat and translated everything for me and called Peace Corps to meet up with them to give them the envelope. I was the luckiest being in the world so it finally made it and my heart beat normally again!
Somehow, I made it through the 13 days from finding out I was coming home to coming home. We had a training in Kigali for the last week before I came and I had making Christmas Dinner for my fellow PCVs to look forward to.
A bunch of people from my group came in and I even got to see my dear Danae before she headed off for her holiday adventures. I had a lot of help and put together a great Christmas Eve Eve dinner of goat cheese/apple spinach salad, tomato/fresh basil bruschetta, baked mac n' cheese, garlic mashed potatoes, ham and even christmas sugar cookies. We couldn't really decorate them but it was one of the few times it actually felt like Christmas while I was down there. We even had some "instant snow" from the 5 (!!) Christmas packages I got from my family before we had planned my coming home. Then we went out dancing and had a wonderful Christmas Eve Eve! I got on my plane on Christmas Eve but my reactions in coming back to all this after almost 8 months in Rwanda will have to be another entry all together!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
We're here to GLOW!
"1! We're here to GLOW!
2! We wanna show...
3! that we can be...
4 more More MORE MORE!!"
This is what we had 60 young Rwandan girls chanting as they walked from class to class, at meal times, and every morning in the past week. It seems simple and even silly but I truly think this has been one of the most significant things I've done in the past 7 months.
Camp GLOW was this past week. I've mentioned this previously but it stands for Girls Leading Our World. I spent this time with my fellow volunteers from the Eastern Province, 9 Rwandan facilitators and the girls. We gave them lessons on sexual and reproductive health, HIV/AIDS prevention, biology & myths/facts as well as goal setting, decision making and career planning. While all these lessons I think did benefit the girls greatly, the most valuable part of the week as giving these girls a place to be comfortable, a place to be themselves, a place where no one is telling them to cook or look after a baby or go fetch water or sweep the dirt. We were there with bead-making and friendship bracelets and tie-dying t-shirts. We had dance lessons and time for them to play soccer and a carnival night and a talent show. This is just like any summer camp in the states BUT that idea doesn't even exist here and especially for girls to be with just girls and be themselves. And no one is telling these girls that what they say is important or even that they should be speaking up.
One of the more powerful moments for me was the "I can't" funeral. The girls had to write something that people have told them they can't do on a piece of paper. Then the girls would tear up the paper, throw it in the fire and say "I CAN." Now, the powerful part for me wasn't the affirmation itself but more so the subjects of their "I can't." They were saying things like, "I can't make decisions for myself." "I can't decide what I want to do with my life." We would be told things like, "you can't be an astronaut cause you suck at science." But these things seemed so simple and possible that I hated that people had been telling them they couldn't. I liked that we gave them the chance to be themselves and not be guarded, to speak up and have someone actually listen to them. This, I think was the true power of the camp.
I loved it.
2! We wanna show...
3! that we can be...
4 more More MORE MORE!!"
This is what we had 60 young Rwandan girls chanting as they walked from class to class, at meal times, and every morning in the past week. It seems simple and even silly but I truly think this has been one of the most significant things I've done in the past 7 months.
Camp GLOW was this past week. I've mentioned this previously but it stands for Girls Leading Our World. I spent this time with my fellow volunteers from the Eastern Province, 9 Rwandan facilitators and the girls. We gave them lessons on sexual and reproductive health, HIV/AIDS prevention, biology & myths/facts as well as goal setting, decision making and career planning. While all these lessons I think did benefit the girls greatly, the most valuable part of the week as giving these girls a place to be comfortable, a place to be themselves, a place where no one is telling them to cook or look after a baby or go fetch water or sweep the dirt. We were there with bead-making and friendship bracelets and tie-dying t-shirts. We had dance lessons and time for them to play soccer and a carnival night and a talent show. This is just like any summer camp in the states BUT that idea doesn't even exist here and especially for girls to be with just girls and be themselves. And no one is telling these girls that what they say is important or even that they should be speaking up.
One of the more powerful moments for me was the "I can't" funeral. The girls had to write something that people have told them they can't do on a piece of paper. Then the girls would tear up the paper, throw it in the fire and say "I CAN." Now, the powerful part for me wasn't the affirmation itself but more so the subjects of their "I can't." They were saying things like, "I can't make decisions for myself." "I can't decide what I want to do with my life." We would be told things like, "you can't be an astronaut cause you suck at science." But these things seemed so simple and possible that I hated that people had been telling them they couldn't. I liked that we gave them the chance to be themselves and not be guarded, to speak up and have someone actually listen to them. This, I think was the true power of the camp.
I loved it.
Monday, November 14, 2011
hard to leave..
So I've been living the life of luxury now for almost 2 and a half weeks with just a few days of site in-between. I've had mostly-hot showers, running water and things to cook on that don't involve lighting something on fire. It's gonna be real hard now to go back to site for a bit. I've gotten a little too used to all the little things that make life simpler. Even now, after my third conference in a month, when I was living with a host family, things were nice. I had the most wonderful, huge comfy bed and it was cold enough down in Muhanga that I could sleep with a huge comforter (i haven't done that for 6 months). Needless to say, I slept better there than I have since coming to Rwanda. They also had a TV, so for the second time since coming to Rwanda, I got to sit down and watch BBC world news! I also had the opportunity to play with their two sweet boys who loved hide & seek in the dark!
In other news, that conference was an amusing and interesting experience. When I first got there, I was a little worried that it would be overwhelming. 2000 teens are scary anywhere, especially so when you're one of only 4 white people there. It's only disconcerting because you know they're gonna spend the whole weekend staring and laughing at you. It's not usually with malicious intent, but when you can't hear them, what you're used to thinking is that they're saying something mean. Here, laughing is just the nervous response to anything. Don't know what to do? Laugh.
BUT it ended up being a nice week, in part because I had my lovely host family and in part because of what transpired on the last night.
We were having a "closing ceremony" of sorts with cultural representations from each country (Burundi, Tanzania, Kenya, & D.R.C. were also represented at the forum) and they wanted us to do our own piece as the 'abazungus.' First of all, it was difficult to explain that Germany and America were not the same. AND even MORE difficult to try and figure out a song or dance that culturally represents America. They simply don't understand how diverse it is. I had one conversation with this lovely guy who said he knew Americans liked to describe themselves by their heritage and asked me mine. I was astounded at his level of American-cultural know-how. So in the end, we just danced the Byumba traditional dance (the name of which I can't remember for the life of me) with the rest of our diocese. It was great fun and they got a hoot out of white people dancing their traditional dance. The bishop even got up to join us! I wish I had gotten a video or pictures of it, but I was too busy living it (which is a common problem for me here). I don't wanna get stuck behind a lens and miss something so I guess I'll just have to give you really detailed stories when I can.
In other news, that conference was an amusing and interesting experience. When I first got there, I was a little worried that it would be overwhelming. 2000 teens are scary anywhere, especially so when you're one of only 4 white people there. It's only disconcerting because you know they're gonna spend the whole weekend staring and laughing at you. It's not usually with malicious intent, but when you can't hear them, what you're used to thinking is that they're saying something mean. Here, laughing is just the nervous response to anything. Don't know what to do? Laugh.
BUT it ended up being a nice week, in part because I had my lovely host family and in part because of what transpired on the last night.
We were having a "closing ceremony" of sorts with cultural representations from each country (Burundi, Tanzania, Kenya, & D.R.C. were also represented at the forum) and they wanted us to do our own piece as the 'abazungus.' First of all, it was difficult to explain that Germany and America were not the same. AND even MORE difficult to try and figure out a song or dance that culturally represents America. They simply don't understand how diverse it is. I had one conversation with this lovely guy who said he knew Americans liked to describe themselves by their heritage and asked me mine. I was astounded at his level of American-cultural know-how. So in the end, we just danced the Byumba traditional dance (the name of which I can't remember for the life of me) with the rest of our diocese. It was great fun and they got a hoot out of white people dancing their traditional dance. The bishop even got up to join us! I wish I had gotten a video or pictures of it, but I was too busy living it (which is a common problem for me here). I don't wanna get stuck behind a lens and miss something so I guess I'll just have to give you really detailed stories when I can.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
birthdays and aging!
So yesterday was the big 25! A quarter of a century! AND on 11-11-11! This post is obviously old and something I never got to finish so now that I have unlimited internet and the use of my dear Amy's computer, and above all, TIME...I'll comment just a bit and then go on a blog updating rampage!
I had a lovely time on my birthday! I finished up my Conference on Pediatric AIDS and truly felt like I got quite a bit from it! I'm working (as soon as I have a functional computer) on putting together a summary for all my fellow PCVs. Afterwards, many of my PCV friends were in town on their way out to our amazing pre-Thanksgiving, a Primus-tie affair, but that's a whole 'nother post! We went out for pizza and had a lovely dinner complete with wine (only the second time having it since being in Rwanda). It made me miss my wonderful Tuesdays at Radio Maria and half-price wine with excellent suggestions on new ones to try! BUT it was lovely and then we went out to a bar to dance and chill and just enjoy ourselves. ALSO only the second time I have been out in Kigali, but it was a great time. It felt good to be somewhere and just to dance and not care and also to meet some Rwandans that were down to do the same things. It's rare here that people openly express liking to go out and drink and dance, especially as a women. Here, there's often an automatic correlation between that and them saying you're a prostitute. The attitude's a bit different in the big cities, especially among the younger generation but there's a reason I never go to any of the bars at my site. I figure it's probably safe to drink with my nuns and priests in their homes; they are a pretty constant source of peer pressure in that regard!
The next day we went to the African Bagel Company in Kigali. It's a bit of a trek to get there, but once you do, it's like being transported to a different world. This is apparently, the Saturday morning spot for abazungus (white people [pl. form]). It was absolutely full of them, but understandably so. There were doughnuts and hot bagels of every wonderful variety and Dunkin coffee. It's kind of funny since there is, of course, great coffee in Rwanda BUT I wasn't complaining. So we sat and ate and watched families and young people hang out in hammocks and little bistro tables around a yard just enjoying their Saturday morning. It was a wonderful deep breath of home life.
I had a lovely time on my birthday! I finished up my Conference on Pediatric AIDS and truly felt like I got quite a bit from it! I'm working (as soon as I have a functional computer) on putting together a summary for all my fellow PCVs. Afterwards, many of my PCV friends were in town on their way out to our amazing pre-Thanksgiving, a Primus-tie affair, but that's a whole 'nother post! We went out for pizza and had a lovely dinner complete with wine (only the second time having it since being in Rwanda). It made me miss my wonderful Tuesdays at Radio Maria and half-price wine with excellent suggestions on new ones to try! BUT it was lovely and then we went out to a bar to dance and chill and just enjoy ourselves. ALSO only the second time I have been out in Kigali, but it was a great time. It felt good to be somewhere and just to dance and not care and also to meet some Rwandans that were down to do the same things. It's rare here that people openly express liking to go out and drink and dance, especially as a women. Here, there's often an automatic correlation between that and them saying you're a prostitute. The attitude's a bit different in the big cities, especially among the younger generation but there's a reason I never go to any of the bars at my site. I figure it's probably safe to drink with my nuns and priests in their homes; they are a pretty constant source of peer pressure in that regard!
The next day we went to the African Bagel Company in Kigali. It's a bit of a trek to get there, but once you do, it's like being transported to a different world. This is apparently, the Saturday morning spot for abazungus (white people [pl. form]). It was absolutely full of them, but understandably so. There were doughnuts and hot bagels of every wonderful variety and Dunkin coffee. It's kind of funny since there is, of course, great coffee in Rwanda BUT I wasn't complaining. So we sat and ate and watched families and young people hang out in hammocks and little bistro tables around a yard just enjoying their Saturday morning. It was a wonderful deep breath of home life.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
being a big people
so today I'm in Kiagli with a completely different purpose. I'm here for a Pediatric HIV/AIDS conference about adolescence and HIV/AIDS prevention, testing, treatment and care. It's also dealing with PMTCT (Prevention of Mother to Child transmission)so I'm thinking I'll get a lot of really useful information out of the sessions and a chance to make some good contacts. I also don't mind four paid days in Kigali in the school off-season, as it were. I'm gonna be crazy busy with these sorts of things all month, which is wonderful. I feel productive and purposeful and like I'm actually doing a job that I can benefit from and I can use to help benefit others. Next week, two days after I get back I'm headed off to the Rwanda National Youth Forum with Br. Dom (who's in charge of youth activities at the church). That one is slightly more frightening since I don't know what language it'll be in and I have no idea of the program. BUT It'll still probably give me some useful information and some ideas for projects. After my talk with F.P. I've realized I'm just as on my own as I've perceived. I still think they're not sure what I'm doing there and what kind of things are my purpose for being here. I got some good advice from our program people at IST about groups to get in touch with and when I met with F.P. and asked him about how to get in touch with them, he told me, "they meet on Saturday, over there," which I knew...because I hear them out outside of my room. Hundreds of screaming, dancing and singing kids. I was hoping he might put me in touch with the leaders so I might have a smaller group to communicate with that I could use as a focus group or sound board for project ideas but all I was told was that they "might meet at 2". So we'll see what I can do with all that. I've decided that these next few months will be the chapter in my life entitled What Doesn't Kill You...
It'll be great though, because one thing people say in greetings here is "Murakomeye?" meaning 'Are you strong(lit. strengthened)?' and I'm really glad that I will always be able to answer with a proud "Ndakomeye" (I am strong).
It'll be great though, because one thing people say in greetings here is "Murakomeye?" meaning 'Are you strong(lit. strengthened)?' and I'm really glad that I will always be able to answer with a proud "Ndakomeye" (I am strong).
Friday, November 4, 2011
6 months!
It's absolutely crazy to me that i'm reaching 6 months here in rwanda. IST is a big marker in people's service. . . They say. Many people have talked about how it all starts to fly after the crucial 'first three months' mark. All i know is that another 20 months here sounds like an eternity and an instant. I've come back now w/ a new fervor to do big things. This is a double-edged sword i'm excited that i'm excited for new challenges but it takes a while to change things. . .And it's tough not to get discouraged by that. But i'm gonna try my hardest to keep my spirits and hopes up and just ride them all the way through. Sorryy he this post is crazy i'm doing it on my phone because my power core died.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
unique new york
25/10-2/11
I'm looking at a volcano. I've climbed Diamond Head but I'm looking at this volcano and it's smoking and now that it's dark there's a hazy red glow hovering above the shadow of the volcano. This is another lovely reminder of the uniqueness of this experience. Maybe it'll be more real when I get a chance to travel and enjoy the scenery and not be trying to look at all the problems in a community and how to fix them. I do spend all my time on buses (which happens to be quite a bit) staring out at the beautiful countryside. But honestly, most things are beautiful through the window when you're passing at high speeds. It's nice to remember how unique this all is though. I'm here at an opportune time in my life...in a place full of opportunities. Granted, these opportunities are kinda hard to see some times and even harder to get involved in and make something of....BUT they are there nonetheless and when I'm suffocating/getting claustrophobic inside a squeezie bus (twegerane) or waiting 35 minutes to get a service that takes 30 seconds...Ill try harder to remember all these opportunities and how unique this experience, the people i'm with, the country I'm working in, the job...how unique it all is.
I'm looking at a volcano. I've climbed Diamond Head but I'm looking at this volcano and it's smoking and now that it's dark there's a hazy red glow hovering above the shadow of the volcano. This is another lovely reminder of the uniqueness of this experience. Maybe it'll be more real when I get a chance to travel and enjoy the scenery and not be trying to look at all the problems in a community and how to fix them. I do spend all my time on buses (which happens to be quite a bit) staring out at the beautiful countryside. But honestly, most things are beautiful through the window when you're passing at high speeds. It's nice to remember how unique this all is though. I'm here at an opportune time in my life...in a place full of opportunities. Granted, these opportunities are kinda hard to see some times and even harder to get involved in and make something of....BUT they are there nonetheless and when I'm suffocating/getting claustrophobic inside a squeezie bus (twegerane) or waiting 35 minutes to get a service that takes 30 seconds...Ill try harder to remember all these opportunities and how unique this experience, the people i'm with, the country I'm working in, the job...how unique it all is.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
IST....
24/10
A Blast from the Past
So I'm in Kibuye, on lovely Lake Kivu and it's sooo nice to have a change of scenery. It's also wonderful to meet back up with my fellow PCVs from Health 3. They are so lovely and we have such a nice, small group that I'm very happy to get a chance to catch up with them. Today, we talked about an overview of our experiences over the last three months. Now I've been in touch at least a few times with most of the people from my group so I had a basic idea of how things were going, BUT I still got so much from this time. I don't know if it was hearing all of them at once or what but I just got so much love perspective. It's easy to think you're all alone when you're out at site. It's nice to come in and hear you're not crazy and that the problems you're dealing with are problems other people are dealing with.
HOWEVER, I've also felt some alienation because only 3 other people are not working in health centers and the other people not in health centers are with organizations. So...my situation is somewhat unique. So, on the bright side, I have time to update my blog! AND even though I'm not working within the Rwandan health care system, I'm learning a LOT about it! So knowledge never hurts! And this conf is a great opportunity to make our plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas! I don't know what I'm doing yet, but it's gonna spring up on me I know because I have so much going on between now and then.
I've also had the opportunity to speak with our program managers about defining my role in the community a little more clearly. I'm hoping to really bring my ideas and new things to my supervisor to try and start some things in the community. BUT really, truly, Camp GLOW is my greatest hope for meaningful work (or what i perceive as a significant contribution). I can't wait because once my girls go to the camp and come back, I can help start GLOW clubs to work on life skills and all the wonderful girl empowerment ideas that will be planted with the camp. I'm just so excited to have an opportunity to tell these girls that they can have a purpose besides having a bunch of children. Here, a woman is not called a "woman" umugore until she is married. Before that time, she is always called a "girl" umukobwa. If you are not married and try and say you are a "woman" there are negative implications and you can be considered a prostitute. Obviously, this is terribly irritating as a 24 yr. old woman with a college education and a fair bit of world experience. I miss a culture that defines a woman (at least, in part) by what she has accomplished. I guess here it's the same but the accomplishments all revolve around being a wife or mother. I personally call "gender normative"! I know it's my culture and personal experiences and Western perspective that call that, but I can't escape that and I still feel like I'd rather be going in that direction.
A Blast from the Past
So I'm in Kibuye, on lovely Lake Kivu and it's sooo nice to have a change of scenery. It's also wonderful to meet back up with my fellow PCVs from Health 3. They are so lovely and we have such a nice, small group that I'm very happy to get a chance to catch up with them. Today, we talked about an overview of our experiences over the last three months. Now I've been in touch at least a few times with most of the people from my group so I had a basic idea of how things were going, BUT I still got so much from this time. I don't know if it was hearing all of them at once or what but I just got so much love perspective. It's easy to think you're all alone when you're out at site. It's nice to come in and hear you're not crazy and that the problems you're dealing with are problems other people are dealing with.
HOWEVER, I've also felt some alienation because only 3 other people are not working in health centers and the other people not in health centers are with organizations. So...my situation is somewhat unique. So, on the bright side, I have time to update my blog! AND even though I'm not working within the Rwandan health care system, I'm learning a LOT about it! So knowledge never hurts! And this conf is a great opportunity to make our plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas! I don't know what I'm doing yet, but it's gonna spring up on me I know because I have so much going on between now and then.
I've also had the opportunity to speak with our program managers about defining my role in the community a little more clearly. I'm hoping to really bring my ideas and new things to my supervisor to try and start some things in the community. BUT really, truly, Camp GLOW is my greatest hope for meaningful work (or what i perceive as a significant contribution). I can't wait because once my girls go to the camp and come back, I can help start GLOW clubs to work on life skills and all the wonderful girl empowerment ideas that will be planted with the camp. I'm just so excited to have an opportunity to tell these girls that they can have a purpose besides having a bunch of children. Here, a woman is not called a "woman" umugore until she is married. Before that time, she is always called a "girl" umukobwa. If you are not married and try and say you are a "woman" there are negative implications and you can be considered a prostitute. Obviously, this is terribly irritating as a 24 yr. old woman with a college education and a fair bit of world experience. I miss a culture that defines a woman (at least, in part) by what she has accomplished. I guess here it's the same but the accomplishments all revolve around being a wife or mother. I personally call "gender normative"! I know it's my culture and personal experiences and Western perspective that call that, but I can't escape that and I still feel like I'd rather be going in that direction.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
running Rwanda
18/10
So today I went for the best run. I'm not sure if all of you know of my personal mission to love running. For the longest time, it was my mortal enemy. We simply could not get along. Somewhere around senior year of high school, we made peace. But my running could be best characterized as sporadic during college. After BU, I was determined to start liking it. The gym membership helped and it got even easier with my 10k goal. Goals help, who knew?
Somewhere in training, it got a little easier and I started to like it more and more. BUT I always love it once I get going, the problem is getting started. My running here in Rwanda has topped all previous experiences. I was thwarted for the first few months with a nasty sprained ankle in my second week of training. After my first run here at site about 2 weeks ago, I did have a bit of a limp. However, yesterday after running all I felt was enthralled. I think part of the reason I like it honestly, is that I feel like it gives people a reason to stare. Very few Rwandans run for fun. Most of them don't need to, their lives are hard and exhausting and full of exercise inherent in the work they do everyday.
So when I run, it's novel. BUT I'd rather have them looking at me for doing something bizarre and muzungu then for just walking down the street. It makes me feel less like a zoo animal.
I also love running because people think it's a funny thing to start running beside/with you. It never lasts very long but it's literally a universal thing. I've had 30 somethings down to 2 yr. olds, all in all, very amusing and never lonely. I also usually see some of my kids from the pre-school on my route that I've developed and they run into the street from their mud-brick houses to stop me in my tracks with a hug. It's a happy interruption. I also get stopped by old ladies yelling at me for not stopping to greet them while I'm mid-stride...with my iPod in...clearly I'm someone in the mood to stop and greet everyone and their mother. I have a pretty good sized town for the middle of nowhere so I'd never get anywhere if I greeted everyone like they want. Usually, luckily, I try and escape with a smile and a wave and a verbal on-the-go greeting. This satisfies all but the most insistent of old ladies out farming. Then there are the hills. It's funny because everyone calls the Eastern Province (where I live) the flat part of Rwanda. But Rwanda's flat is Illinois's mountainous. There are no flat routes, so I content myself to walk those parts sometimes. It's certainly a different experience running here, but then again, what isn't?
So today I went for the best run. I'm not sure if all of you know of my personal mission to love running. For the longest time, it was my mortal enemy. We simply could not get along. Somewhere around senior year of high school, we made peace. But my running could be best characterized as sporadic during college. After BU, I was determined to start liking it. The gym membership helped and it got even easier with my 10k goal. Goals help, who knew?
Somewhere in training, it got a little easier and I started to like it more and more. BUT I always love it once I get going, the problem is getting started. My running here in Rwanda has topped all previous experiences. I was thwarted for the first few months with a nasty sprained ankle in my second week of training. After my first run here at site about 2 weeks ago, I did have a bit of a limp. However, yesterday after running all I felt was enthralled. I think part of the reason I like it honestly, is that I feel like it gives people a reason to stare. Very few Rwandans run for fun. Most of them don't need to, their lives are hard and exhausting and full of exercise inherent in the work they do everyday.
So when I run, it's novel. BUT I'd rather have them looking at me for doing something bizarre and muzungu then for just walking down the street. It makes me feel less like a zoo animal.
I also love running because people think it's a funny thing to start running beside/with you. It never lasts very long but it's literally a universal thing. I've had 30 somethings down to 2 yr. olds, all in all, very amusing and never lonely. I also usually see some of my kids from the pre-school on my route that I've developed and they run into the street from their mud-brick houses to stop me in my tracks with a hug. It's a happy interruption. I also get stopped by old ladies yelling at me for not stopping to greet them while I'm mid-stride...with my iPod in...clearly I'm someone in the mood to stop and greet everyone and their mother. I have a pretty good sized town for the middle of nowhere so I'd never get anywhere if I greeted everyone like they want. Usually, luckily, I try and escape with a smile and a wave and a verbal on-the-go greeting. This satisfies all but the most insistent of old ladies out farming. Then there are the hills. It's funny because everyone calls the Eastern Province (where I live) the flat part of Rwanda. But Rwanda's flat is Illinois's mountainous. There are no flat routes, so I content myself to walk those parts sometimes. It's certainly a different experience running here, but then again, what isn't?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
this week's musings...
15/10
I've been meaning to update for a few days, but frankly, I've been in a funk. The school term is finishing up and I've only got one week left till January. This isn't a big deal because I'll still be working with the womens' handicraft co-op 3 days a week and I'm working on the Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) which will be held during the break. I've also been trying to plan a lot of other activities to keep me from spending too many hours cooped up in my room with movies on my computer and working on new embroidery projects. I'm trying to maybe work with the local public schools to paint maps on their walls; I'm gonna re-do all the posters with wrong English that abound in the pre-school, and I want to push for a more concrete and formalized language-learning curriculum for the womens' group. In addition, I'm hoping to do some seminars with the pre-school teachers so that they are at least teaching correct English when I'm not there and maybe introducing them to the concept of different learning styles (none of them have previous formal teaching/childcare training). I don't want to come in and say, "my ideas are better," "you're wrong," but they only teach at the school because the school needs them to function and they happen to be living with this particular community of nuns that founded it. I have tried to be very fact-finding and culturally sensitive about my inquiries, but through those, I have found that none of them even particularly like teaching. I asked.
I've spent a lot of time with the Ed 2 volunteers and have found that this is not a problem particular to my pre-school. Teachers in Rwanda are some of the lowest paid full-time employees. They have many running jokes about how little they're paid. As a result, people often only use teaching as a stepping stone to better jobs. Retention is crazy low and very few of them seem to care as much as I selfishly wish they would. It's odd, because education is respected here. People will even accept "because I have to finish my studies" as an acceptable reason for not being married yet and for not marrying a Rwandan man. (IF ONLY you knew how huge that is, being able to fend that off with such a truthful response is so lucky!)
I guess with that understanding, I just can't quite place why teachers get so little respect and consequentially, pay. I know that part of the Teach for America concept is based on that very issue in American schools with high-need, so I accept that this is not unique to Rwanda, but it's tough to confront nonetheless. I think it's because the cost of schools here is so much higher. I don't mean necessarily the actual monetary cost (although that is a HUGE barrier to many students and is a major cause of the high drop-out rates) but the opportunity cost is sooooooo much higher for these students and their families. By not working as an umucozi (houseperson) or moto-driver or umucuruzi (shopkeeper) or most often on their family subsistence farming plot, they are losing things for their families. When that can make the difference between 1 and 2 meals a day, that starts to matter more and more. But it's hard to watch. It's like their stagnating their own development by keeping in these cycles. But I don't know how to help them out of it. It's hard to say, "yeah, go hungry so your child can try for one of the few gov't. scholarships to get into University because otherwise you'd have no way to further that educated child. School loans aren't possible or affordable and there are even fewer jobs available once they finish, but go for it!"
If you can figure that one out, lemme know so I can steal your idea and get a Nobel Prize.
Errrr....I mean appreciate your comment? No, I pretty much want the Swedes to know my name. Needless to say, these ponderings make my brain hurt. BUT they're great for rainy afternoons when I would otherwise be staring at my wall or watching the Vampire Diaries.
10/10
transportation is always an adventure in Rwanda. I've mentioned before how amusing the "bus stations" are. I obviously use the term loosely as they tend to be open areas with no such thing as a discernible parking spot but they have shops around the area (with all the same things). The most amusing part for me is always the guys running around, chasing motos, pushing each other and yelling (in 3 languages) their bus company name and next leaving time. So you pull in on your moto or squeezy bus and they either chase you, wave fanatically to get you to stop in front of their company and then all you hear is, "Belvedere!Belvedere! Excel!Excel! Just now! leavingLEAVING!" It's very amusing because their English is interesting, of course. And just their enthusiasm and like willingness to take each other out...wow. so i never really worry about getting a ticket. i draw attention and there's many to spare.
BUT it wouldn't be Rwanda if the reverse weren't also true. You can go to the bus park, wait, buy a ticket with the time on it and they'll have filled the bus and you have to wait, for an indeterminate amount of time. (schedules here are 'more like guidelines really')
today, we had our GLOW meeting. this is the girls' empowerment that I am terribly excited about because it is a topic obviously near & dear to my heart. but we didn't finish up until it was getting later... and of course, because travel to and from my site was relatively easy for the first 2 and a half months, it had to get more difficult. They diverted all the buses to the downtown and far away bus park and for some reason none of the 3 ATMs I tried to use to get money to actually go back felt like giving me money. Marebear has a theory that they're just smarter than me and know when I actually want money and don't. this time, apparently I didn't really. So I got stuck in the big city for another day. It ended up being a nice time with really great Indian food and a lot of sanity-restoring discussions on my work and life with people from the 2nd Health Group whose opinions I really respect. so yay for things not working, and being difficult, and more complicated, because sometimes all that makes other (more important) things, less complicated.
I've been meaning to update for a few days, but frankly, I've been in a funk. The school term is finishing up and I've only got one week left till January. This isn't a big deal because I'll still be working with the womens' handicraft co-op 3 days a week and I'm working on the Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) which will be held during the break. I've also been trying to plan a lot of other activities to keep me from spending too many hours cooped up in my room with movies on my computer and working on new embroidery projects. I'm trying to maybe work with the local public schools to paint maps on their walls; I'm gonna re-do all the posters with wrong English that abound in the pre-school, and I want to push for a more concrete and formalized language-learning curriculum for the womens' group. In addition, I'm hoping to do some seminars with the pre-school teachers so that they are at least teaching correct English when I'm not there and maybe introducing them to the concept of different learning styles (none of them have previous formal teaching/childcare training). I don't want to come in and say, "my ideas are better," "you're wrong," but they only teach at the school because the school needs them to function and they happen to be living with this particular community of nuns that founded it. I have tried to be very fact-finding and culturally sensitive about my inquiries, but through those, I have found that none of them even particularly like teaching. I asked.
I've spent a lot of time with the Ed 2 volunteers and have found that this is not a problem particular to my pre-school. Teachers in Rwanda are some of the lowest paid full-time employees. They have many running jokes about how little they're paid. As a result, people often only use teaching as a stepping stone to better jobs. Retention is crazy low and very few of them seem to care as much as I selfishly wish they would. It's odd, because education is respected here. People will even accept "because I have to finish my studies" as an acceptable reason for not being married yet and for not marrying a Rwandan man. (IF ONLY you knew how huge that is, being able to fend that off with such a truthful response is so lucky!)
I guess with that understanding, I just can't quite place why teachers get so little respect and consequentially, pay. I know that part of the Teach for America concept is based on that very issue in American schools with high-need, so I accept that this is not unique to Rwanda, but it's tough to confront nonetheless. I think it's because the cost of schools here is so much higher. I don't mean necessarily the actual monetary cost (although that is a HUGE barrier to many students and is a major cause of the high drop-out rates) but the opportunity cost is sooooooo much higher for these students and their families. By not working as an umucozi (houseperson) or moto-driver or umucuruzi (shopkeeper) or most often on their family subsistence farming plot, they are losing things for their families. When that can make the difference between 1 and 2 meals a day, that starts to matter more and more. But it's hard to watch. It's like their stagnating their own development by keeping in these cycles. But I don't know how to help them out of it. It's hard to say, "yeah, go hungry so your child can try for one of the few gov't. scholarships to get into University because otherwise you'd have no way to further that educated child. School loans aren't possible or affordable and there are even fewer jobs available once they finish, but go for it!"
If you can figure that one out, lemme know so I can steal your idea and get a Nobel Prize.
Errrr....I mean appreciate your comment? No, I pretty much want the Swedes to know my name. Needless to say, these ponderings make my brain hurt. BUT they're great for rainy afternoons when I would otherwise be staring at my wall or watching the Vampire Diaries.
10/10
transportation is always an adventure in Rwanda. I've mentioned before how amusing the "bus stations" are. I obviously use the term loosely as they tend to be open areas with no such thing as a discernible parking spot but they have shops around the area (with all the same things). The most amusing part for me is always the guys running around, chasing motos, pushing each other and yelling (in 3 languages) their bus company name and next leaving time. So you pull in on your moto or squeezy bus and they either chase you, wave fanatically to get you to stop in front of their company and then all you hear is, "Belvedere!Belvedere! Excel!Excel! Just now! leavingLEAVING!" It's very amusing because their English is interesting, of course. And just their enthusiasm and like willingness to take each other out...wow. so i never really worry about getting a ticket. i draw attention and there's many to spare.
BUT it wouldn't be Rwanda if the reverse weren't also true. You can go to the bus park, wait, buy a ticket with the time on it and they'll have filled the bus and you have to wait, for an indeterminate amount of time. (schedules here are 'more like guidelines really')
today, we had our GLOW meeting. this is the girls' empowerment that I am terribly excited about because it is a topic obviously near & dear to my heart. but we didn't finish up until it was getting later... and of course, because travel to and from my site was relatively easy for the first 2 and a half months, it had to get more difficult. They diverted all the buses to the downtown and far away bus park and for some reason none of the 3 ATMs I tried to use to get money to actually go back felt like giving me money. Marebear has a theory that they're just smarter than me and know when I actually want money and don't. this time, apparently I didn't really. So I got stuck in the big city for another day. It ended up being a nice time with really great Indian food and a lot of sanity-restoring discussions on my work and life with people from the 2nd Health Group whose opinions I really respect. so yay for things not working, and being difficult, and more complicated, because sometimes all that makes other (more important) things, less complicated.
Monday, October 3, 2011
on other muzungus...
so it's becoming normal that people will stop on the road (even if a moto or Chinese truck is coming) to watch me walk down it. But I'm still amused by my interactions with people based on my permanent condition of being a muzungu. I also hope you all know that word by now. Nothing I say to you will make sense when I come back if this is not clear. It means "white person." So, all the time, whenever people (incl. people I know fairly well) see other white people in my village they always ask, "Who's your friend? What is name?" Because, obviously, we have a network and all know each other. It takes me a long time usually to explain that I do not know them nor do I know who they are or where they're even from, or if they speak my languages...any of them. Last time I went to visit the priests and my friend Alex at his parish they threw us in with these 2 other white people. They happened to be Italian and we had no way to communicate with them. To further illustrate my point...
On the bus the other day, I had another great experience with Alex. We were catching a bus back from the big city of Kigali and we bought our tickets and were then ushered onto the bus. From the driver, (who had corralled us in from the street) we got the usual "karibu" (which is 'Welcome' in Kiswahili but which they use here often). Then he said, "Your friend is here."
I started racking my brain to see how that was possible. First, checking what language he had said it in to make sure I didn't mis-translate. [English]. Then to see if Alex had somehow made it on the bus before me. [He was behind me.] Then trying to remember if I had mentioned Peace Corps when we bought the tickets and perhaps this other person had to. [We hadn't. They hadn't] We sat down and I had never seen this person before in my life....but he was white. He was actually a German volunteer working about an hour away from me who had only been here a month and a half of a 13 month excursion. After laughing at our "friendship" forged in the minds of the people here...we got to talking and he was a lovely person. BUT before this moment, not my friend.
I have just now begun to convince the nuns that I work with on a daily basis that I don't know all other white people. The problematic thing is of course, with so many Peace Corps volunteers here and the extent with which they integrate themselves (therefore getting to know many people of the community), I, once in a while, am actually friends with the person someone has mentioned. At this point, the Rwandan or whomever I'm talking with must call this person just to let them know they've met me. But Rwandans and their cell phones are a whole nother entry, and a doozy at that.
On the bus the other day, I had another great experience with Alex. We were catching a bus back from the big city of Kigali and we bought our tickets and were then ushered onto the bus. From the driver, (who had corralled us in from the street) we got the usual "karibu" (which is 'Welcome' in Kiswahili but which they use here often). Then he said, "Your friend is here."
I started racking my brain to see how that was possible. First, checking what language he had said it in to make sure I didn't mis-translate. [English]. Then to see if Alex had somehow made it on the bus before me. [He was behind me.] Then trying to remember if I had mentioned Peace Corps when we bought the tickets and perhaps this other person had to. [We hadn't. They hadn't] We sat down and I had never seen this person before in my life....but he was white. He was actually a German volunteer working about an hour away from me who had only been here a month and a half of a 13 month excursion. After laughing at our "friendship" forged in the minds of the people here...we got to talking and he was a lovely person. BUT before this moment, not my friend.
I have just now begun to convince the nuns that I work with on a daily basis that I don't know all other white people. The problematic thing is of course, with so many Peace Corps volunteers here and the extent with which they integrate themselves (therefore getting to know many people of the community), I, once in a while, am actually friends with the person someone has mentioned. At this point, the Rwandan or whomever I'm talking with must call this person just to let them know they've met me. But Rwandans and their cell phones are a whole nother entry, and a doozy at that.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
double post! My week...my life.
25/9
Permanance
Today I got two wonderful cards and they made my day! It was so exciting to feel connected to the world. It also made me feel more like i was here. And more like I was here with purpose and meaning. Which is odd, but I guess it had to do with my name on a box and the "Kigali, RWANDA" listed under that. It's those small, very visual things that seem to strike me and remind me that I'm here and I'm doing this. It's funny how quickly you adjust and even though just about every day I miss home and think of what I'd be doing there and what my friends and family are doing there, I still just think of this as my life. I accept the inevitability of it. It's better that way cause once I'm in a situation, it's so much easier to think of making the most of it. Oddly enough, it's when I get the cards and emails and Facebook messages with people telling me about their lives that I get a happy nostalgia and not a painful one.
I've had a really wonderful weekend because I had the chance to hang out with people. It's funny how much it can mean to just hang out with other volunteers. Like I said before, it's very odd to only see your best friends like once every few weeks. Especially in these circumstances, those sorts of interactions mean the most and give you the best chance to hang out and talk with people going through the same things, experiencing the same frustrations. It's very similar to the tight bond that forms with a Rotary exchange. I like to think about how nice it'll be when I got back to the states and get to meet up with these people again and then with other RPCVs. I feel like there are so many common threads even in the very different circumstances within which we work and they will be a great resource at the end of this. Ditto people that have been through any sort of long-term experience like this. I think in the shorter term, you get so many of the same emotions. You get so many similar feelings, I remember just such feelings on my Alternative Spring Breaks...but the thing about the long-term is that you spend half of your time wanting to go back. But you spend your time learning and living and going back is so much more difficult because people have changed, you've changed and you forget how to live like you did, which doesn't seem to make sense. Luckily, I don’T have to worry about that for a while. Even if some days I wish I did.
1/10
Storm Clean-Up
I truly can’t believe it’s October, though without the change of seasons, it feels like no time has passed. There are no visible signs, everything looks the same, if a little greener because it’s the rainy season. I have mentioned before how much I love the rainy season, that has in no way diminished. I was speaking with another PCV yesterday when we were having sanity-restoring cooking/baking time and she said she liked rainy days for the exact same reason. The pressure comes to us all.
The other day I had a very funny afternoon when a big storm blew in the other day. It looked like a hurricane and it came just as our women’s coop was about to head out. Rwandans don’t go out in rain in general and when a crazy storm comes in, obviously we were waiting it out. Then, it started to hail! It was nuts...and everyone was looking at the little balls of ice and asking me how to say it in English. I’m sure most of them had seen it before, but it’s not a commonly used word, “ice” because no one has freezers. Most bars have refrigerators where electricity is available, but that’s just to keep the beer and fanta cold. No one really sees a need for freezers. Needless to say, it was the highlight of my week. I was soooo close to scooping it all up off the ground and using it in anything I could. I was trying so hard to find something to use it for.
The next day was even more interesting because they were cleaning up. Rwanda is a very clean country for somewhere where everyone just throws their trash into their backyard. So many of them are obsessed with keeping things clean, and if not clean, neat. Many of us Rwandan PCVs are terribly amused by the phenomenon of “sweeping dirt” as we call it. Most people don’t have grass in front of their houses or in back; available space is either to dry or used to grow food. As such, they are always sweeping their “front/back yard” as it were which to us, looks like putting patterns in the dirt. It seems somewhat superfluous. My best guess is, because so many of them run around barefoot all the time, they wanna sweep all the harsh stuff away. So when it came to clean up after the storm, we had to do a lot of squeegie-ing of the classrooms because the windows leak like crazy. Most floors are either dirt or concrete so it’s no trouble and you just squeegie everything outside. However, they took to squeegie-ing off outside as well. I didn’t truly understand that as the space isn’t really used for anything but I chalked it up to Rwandan cleanliness. I have heard that other neighboring countries are much dirtier/messier and I think a great part of that is the Rwandan obsession with appearance. They look down on women for not wearing heels (i can’t do it here on the water-eroded dirt roads without twisting an ankle) and men must wear dress shirts and slacks with shiny shiny shoes except when practicing sports. People will blatantly judge you on your appearance (even if they will never verbalize it because they are also very reserved). I think this may play into the interesting taming of the outdoors via dirt sweeping and outdoor mopping.
Permanance
Today I got two wonderful cards and they made my day! It was so exciting to feel connected to the world. It also made me feel more like i was here. And more like I was here with purpose and meaning. Which is odd, but I guess it had to do with my name on a box and the "Kigali, RWANDA" listed under that. It's those small, very visual things that seem to strike me and remind me that I'm here and I'm doing this. It's funny how quickly you adjust and even though just about every day I miss home and think of what I'd be doing there and what my friends and family are doing there, I still just think of this as my life. I accept the inevitability of it. It's better that way cause once I'm in a situation, it's so much easier to think of making the most of it. Oddly enough, it's when I get the cards and emails and Facebook messages with people telling me about their lives that I get a happy nostalgia and not a painful one.
I've had a really wonderful weekend because I had the chance to hang out with people. It's funny how much it can mean to just hang out with other volunteers. Like I said before, it's very odd to only see your best friends like once every few weeks. Especially in these circumstances, those sorts of interactions mean the most and give you the best chance to hang out and talk with people going through the same things, experiencing the same frustrations. It's very similar to the tight bond that forms with a Rotary exchange. I like to think about how nice it'll be when I got back to the states and get to meet up with these people again and then with other RPCVs. I feel like there are so many common threads even in the very different circumstances within which we work and they will be a great resource at the end of this. Ditto people that have been through any sort of long-term experience like this. I think in the shorter term, you get so many of the same emotions. You get so many similar feelings, I remember just such feelings on my Alternative Spring Breaks...but the thing about the long-term is that you spend half of your time wanting to go back. But you spend your time learning and living and going back is so much more difficult because people have changed, you've changed and you forget how to live like you did, which doesn't seem to make sense. Luckily, I don’T have to worry about that for a while. Even if some days I wish I did.
1/10
Storm Clean-Up
I truly can’t believe it’s October, though without the change of seasons, it feels like no time has passed. There are no visible signs, everything looks the same, if a little greener because it’s the rainy season. I have mentioned before how much I love the rainy season, that has in no way diminished. I was speaking with another PCV yesterday when we were having sanity-restoring cooking/baking time and she said she liked rainy days for the exact same reason. The pressure comes to us all.
The other day I had a very funny afternoon when a big storm blew in the other day. It looked like a hurricane and it came just as our women’s coop was about to head out. Rwandans don’t go out in rain in general and when a crazy storm comes in, obviously we were waiting it out. Then, it started to hail! It was nuts...and everyone was looking at the little balls of ice and asking me how to say it in English. I’m sure most of them had seen it before, but it’s not a commonly used word, “ice” because no one has freezers. Most bars have refrigerators where electricity is available, but that’s just to keep the beer and fanta cold. No one really sees a need for freezers. Needless to say, it was the highlight of my week. I was soooo close to scooping it all up off the ground and using it in anything I could. I was trying so hard to find something to use it for.
The next day was even more interesting because they were cleaning up. Rwanda is a very clean country for somewhere where everyone just throws their trash into their backyard. So many of them are obsessed with keeping things clean, and if not clean, neat. Many of us Rwandan PCVs are terribly amused by the phenomenon of “sweeping dirt” as we call it. Most people don’t have grass in front of their houses or in back; available space is either to dry or used to grow food. As such, they are always sweeping their “front/back yard” as it were which to us, looks like putting patterns in the dirt. It seems somewhat superfluous. My best guess is, because so many of them run around barefoot all the time, they wanna sweep all the harsh stuff away. So when it came to clean up after the storm, we had to do a lot of squeegie-ing of the classrooms because the windows leak like crazy. Most floors are either dirt or concrete so it’s no trouble and you just squeegie everything outside. However, they took to squeegie-ing off outside as well. I didn’t truly understand that as the space isn’t really used for anything but I chalked it up to Rwandan cleanliness. I have heard that other neighboring countries are much dirtier/messier and I think a great part of that is the Rwandan obsession with appearance. They look down on women for not wearing heels (i can’t do it here on the water-eroded dirt roads without twisting an ankle) and men must wear dress shirts and slacks with shiny shiny shoes except when practicing sports. People will blatantly judge you on your appearance (even if they will never verbalize it because they are also very reserved). I think this may play into the interesting taming of the outdoors via dirt sweeping and outdoor mopping.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
learning new things and trading my currency for right answers
22/9
Yay for this week. Truly the best part of it has been spending a few hours with the women of the cooperative. I've learned to embroider. And Ma, if you read this, I'd love some embroidery floss to practice with and maybe a few patterns. (I realized this as soon as we got off the phone). Now I'm baking oatmeal cookies and prepping things to head off tomorrow to Kigali. I'm excited cause by complete coincidence, some of my favorite people will also be there tomorrow, albeit in transit, and we'll get to spend the night together. It's amazing to think about only seeing your best friends once a month or so. I never would've even thought of taking that for granted in the states, but everything seems like you take it for granted when you compare it to things here.
24/9
So I mentioned before how much the kids love to touch my skin. I've taken it to a whole new level and may have created a monster. I started instituting the high five as my incentive for right answers and participation in my pre-school classes. This seemed like a great idea at first. It was a great motivation. Pay attention...say things right, get to touch teacher. It has been very successful in Top & Middle classes. Of course, in Baby Class (3-5 yr. olds...things get warped. It's become a quest to touch me and my clothes whenever I'm anywhere near them and I have to dodge and bob and weave to get away from them sometimes...funny though. There are so many things they do that i have to try not to laugh at, cause it's hillarious, but it's usually things they are not supposed to be doing.
One great moment, luckily, sans rule-breaking was when I was teaching the kids how to make paper airplanes. It sounds really funny, but for them, it's like one of their 3 toys, if that. And when I told them they could decorate them any way they wanted, they died. They loved it so much and they're starting to learn to fold paper, which seems simple but they never really work on motor skills here so it's really great! But the other day, one girl was folding but had her hands full so she just took her cheek and slid it along the paper on her desk and I just laughed out loud. I could see her confusion and then her solution and it got me through the day. But the kids' reaction to my laughing out loud was equally amusing. I have a feeling they don't see it often. It's odd, and this is a very personal observation, but I have noticed a lot of reservation with that sort of thing. It's a high compliment here to be called a "serious" person. I'm sure you know how I feel about that...all very interesting. Still in the observation phase...still learning so much. I'm excited to get back together with my training group Health 3 in a month to discuss everything for a week at our In-Service Training! Just counting down the days and loving my time with my friends in the city this weekend.
Yay for this week. Truly the best part of it has been spending a few hours with the women of the cooperative. I've learned to embroider. And Ma, if you read this, I'd love some embroidery floss to practice with and maybe a few patterns. (I realized this as soon as we got off the phone). Now I'm baking oatmeal cookies and prepping things to head off tomorrow to Kigali. I'm excited cause by complete coincidence, some of my favorite people will also be there tomorrow, albeit in transit, and we'll get to spend the night together. It's amazing to think about only seeing your best friends once a month or so. I never would've even thought of taking that for granted in the states, but everything seems like you take it for granted when you compare it to things here.
24/9
So I mentioned before how much the kids love to touch my skin. I've taken it to a whole new level and may have created a monster. I started instituting the high five as my incentive for right answers and participation in my pre-school classes. This seemed like a great idea at first. It was a great motivation. Pay attention...say things right, get to touch teacher. It has been very successful in Top & Middle classes. Of course, in Baby Class (3-5 yr. olds...things get warped. It's become a quest to touch me and my clothes whenever I'm anywhere near them and I have to dodge and bob and weave to get away from them sometimes...funny though. There are so many things they do that i have to try not to laugh at, cause it's hillarious, but it's usually things they are not supposed to be doing.
One great moment, luckily, sans rule-breaking was when I was teaching the kids how to make paper airplanes. It sounds really funny, but for them, it's like one of their 3 toys, if that. And when I told them they could decorate them any way they wanted, they died. They loved it so much and they're starting to learn to fold paper, which seems simple but they never really work on motor skills here so it's really great! But the other day, one girl was folding but had her hands full so she just took her cheek and slid it along the paper on her desk and I just laughed out loud. I could see her confusion and then her solution and it got me through the day. But the kids' reaction to my laughing out loud was equally amusing. I have a feeling they don't see it often. It's odd, and this is a very personal observation, but I have noticed a lot of reservation with that sort of thing. It's a high compliment here to be called a "serious" person. I'm sure you know how I feel about that...all very interesting. Still in the observation phase...still learning so much. I'm excited to get back together with my training group Health 3 in a month to discuss everything for a week at our In-Service Training! Just counting down the days and loving my time with my friends in the city this weekend.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Just singing in the rain...I'm laughing at clouds
Today, after I had finished all my clothes and sheet washing and after I had gone into town to buy phone credit and veggie fajita supplies, I was sitting by my window and I just watched the most delicious thunderstorm roll in. Above me and to the West it was still blue skies and white fluffy clouds but coming quickly in with the strong breeze were the most wonderful dark, heavy looking clouds. Here, rain is such a welcome change. The rainy season is my favorite (even though, granted, I've really only had one other to compare it to). BUT especially out East, where it's so hot and the sun is so strong that you just bake within minutes, the rain is the most exciting thing for me. It makes the temperature bearable and I can sleep to the rain dripping off the corrugated tin roof. It also means there's no pressure to go outside...because they all stay in anyway. It's the perfect excuse for tea and a book, even more so than in the states. Here, any time I stay in, it comes with a fair bit of guilt. I should be out greeting people. I should be out learning kinyarwanda. I should be doing a lot of things, but those things are exhausting and there are only so many times a day or week when you can pluck up enough everything to go out and face the confusion...but when it rains...no excuses necessary, enjoy your book.
With the rain came other good omens, granted, it was yesterday when I had this overwhelming feeling of good. (It was, of course, right after an overwhelming feeling of "what am i doing here?" "is this work enough to keep me here?") But I was working with these local women that are starting up a small handicrafts association and I was offering suggestions on the stake the women can play in the creation of it. Previously, most of the heavy thinking and logistics were being take care of by the nun whose idea it was. When I was talking with her about how the women would invest more in the work and everything about the association if they had more of a hand in creating it, I realized, this is what I'm here for. There has been some purpose to my training. I do have useful skills for them just by the nature of how we live our lives in the states. Seemingly unrelated experiences have contributed into this person that can be an agent of change and help these people live better lives. The best part is, you let them do the work, that's the point. I already know the things I'm trying to teach, and it's not like teaching English. That can be very one-sided. Here, they are learning things they can pass on and furthermore, they are learning things by doing them themselves, by making mistakes, by trying. I feel like maybe that's the biggest mistake you can make in development and it's sooooo tempting just to be like, "here, lemme show you" or "here, lemme do it." But we didn't learn like that and neither can they. It's certainly more difficult but infinitely more rewarding. None of this has even happened yet, but just imagining it happening with these women was enough to make me unbelievably excited and hopeful and motivated. So yay for that and yay for rain!
With the rain came other good omens, granted, it was yesterday when I had this overwhelming feeling of good. (It was, of course, right after an overwhelming feeling of "what am i doing here?" "is this work enough to keep me here?") But I was working with these local women that are starting up a small handicrafts association and I was offering suggestions on the stake the women can play in the creation of it. Previously, most of the heavy thinking and logistics were being take care of by the nun whose idea it was. When I was talking with her about how the women would invest more in the work and everything about the association if they had more of a hand in creating it, I realized, this is what I'm here for. There has been some purpose to my training. I do have useful skills for them just by the nature of how we live our lives in the states. Seemingly unrelated experiences have contributed into this person that can be an agent of change and help these people live better lives. The best part is, you let them do the work, that's the point. I already know the things I'm trying to teach, and it's not like teaching English. That can be very one-sided. Here, they are learning things they can pass on and furthermore, they are learning things by doing them themselves, by making mistakes, by trying. I feel like maybe that's the biggest mistake you can make in development and it's sooooo tempting just to be like, "here, lemme show you" or "here, lemme do it." But we didn't learn like that and neither can they. It's certainly more difficult but infinitely more rewarding. None of this has even happened yet, but just imagining it happening with these women was enough to make me unbelievably excited and hopeful and motivated. So yay for that and yay for rain!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
You get THE BEST of both worlds (yep, that's sung)
13/9
So I just got back from Kigali. Another trip to the big city, this time for health reasons, and to make sure all my banking stuff was sorted out after my ATM issue two weeks ago and my wallet issue last week. I'm back and all is well. I got all my documents and even my little LeSportSac back. I think the army units (that had never been seen around here in recent memory) and the presence of basically every important local figure played into its reappearance. I'm pretty sure that I only got my ATM card back because whoever stole it didn't understand it's worth. The majority of Rwandans are not a part of the banking system. It's makes sense, especially since so few of them have enough money to make it worth the bank's while and the limited access to the bank isn't worth their while. Another incentive that Americans have that Rwandans don't is access to credit. The bank's here because of the relatively few depositors, lack of financial help from the gov't (and a host of other reasons) securing a private loan here for any reason has an interest rate around 18%! This is crazy when you consider that that would be a pretty bad rate for a credit card in the states and is three times the rate on most of our student loans. No wonder they don't get involved. While monetary issues were not my initial intended topic, I think it is an interesting side note.
I was happily struck with many feelings in the past two days that were outside of my illness. I got a perfect example of the Peace Corps equilibrium on my way into Nyagatare on what was my least favorite moto ride. While I normally LOVE them, riding one on bumpy roads with an upset stomach will quell any desire for me to take one. However, on the way, my driver slowed down when we were getting near Nyagatare around the river. I didn't understand why until I looked over and saw a whole troop of baboons hanging out and munching on sugar cane. It may or may not be known that I have been recently been quite put out that I hadn't seen any of the baboons or hippos that are supposed to be around my region...just a lot of birds, cool birds, but birds. SO it was quite wonderful timing! (and just another example of the Peace Corps equilibrium).
Another example was the feeling that I got when I had to leave my site to head into Kigali to make sure that my stomach pain wasn't appendicitis. This was truly the first time that I felt like I was "having" to go into Kigali instead of "getting" to go. This may not sound big, but in making me feel like a functional volunteer, it was huge. Before, I would listen to the volunteers that had been around for a while talking about how they didn't really like Kigali, how they'd rather be back at site. I didn't understand that feeling for the longest time. Maybe it was because during training Kigali was the "forbidden fruit", maybe it was because Kigali has hot showers! Iced coffee! and free WiFi! I would look forward to the time when I saw my site as my home, where the Rwandan things would feel more comfortable than the muzungu things. (Remind me, I have to do a whole 'nother post on how often we use muzungu as a term for classification and the associated connotation). And today, as I was walking to the MTN center for my iced coffee, croissant and free wifi...all I wanted was some icyayi, a chapati and...well i still wanted the free WiFi. But it was a good feeling and I was happy to come back. When I did, I had the best of both worlds, the people I know to say "hi" to and leftover pizza to enjoy.
So I just got back from Kigali. Another trip to the big city, this time for health reasons, and to make sure all my banking stuff was sorted out after my ATM issue two weeks ago and my wallet issue last week. I'm back and all is well. I got all my documents and even my little LeSportSac back. I think the army units (that had never been seen around here in recent memory) and the presence of basically every important local figure played into its reappearance. I'm pretty sure that I only got my ATM card back because whoever stole it didn't understand it's worth. The majority of Rwandans are not a part of the banking system. It's makes sense, especially since so few of them have enough money to make it worth the bank's while and the limited access to the bank isn't worth their while. Another incentive that Americans have that Rwandans don't is access to credit. The bank's here because of the relatively few depositors, lack of financial help from the gov't (and a host of other reasons) securing a private loan here for any reason has an interest rate around 18%! This is crazy when you consider that that would be a pretty bad rate for a credit card in the states and is three times the rate on most of our student loans. No wonder they don't get involved. While monetary issues were not my initial intended topic, I think it is an interesting side note.
I was happily struck with many feelings in the past two days that were outside of my illness. I got a perfect example of the Peace Corps equilibrium on my way into Nyagatare on what was my least favorite moto ride. While I normally LOVE them, riding one on bumpy roads with an upset stomach will quell any desire for me to take one. However, on the way, my driver slowed down when we were getting near Nyagatare around the river. I didn't understand why until I looked over and saw a whole troop of baboons hanging out and munching on sugar cane. It may or may not be known that I have been recently been quite put out that I hadn't seen any of the baboons or hippos that are supposed to be around my region...just a lot of birds, cool birds, but birds. SO it was quite wonderful timing! (and just another example of the Peace Corps equilibrium).
Another example was the feeling that I got when I had to leave my site to head into Kigali to make sure that my stomach pain wasn't appendicitis. This was truly the first time that I felt like I was "having" to go into Kigali instead of "getting" to go. This may not sound big, but in making me feel like a functional volunteer, it was huge. Before, I would listen to the volunteers that had been around for a while talking about how they didn't really like Kigali, how they'd rather be back at site. I didn't understand that feeling for the longest time. Maybe it was because during training Kigali was the "forbidden fruit", maybe it was because Kigali has hot showers! Iced coffee! and free WiFi! I would look forward to the time when I saw my site as my home, where the Rwandan things would feel more comfortable than the muzungu things. (Remind me, I have to do a whole 'nother post on how often we use muzungu as a term for classification and the associated connotation). And today, as I was walking to the MTN center for my iced coffee, croissant and free wifi...all I wanted was some icyayi, a chapati and...well i still wanted the free WiFi. But it was a good feeling and I was happy to come back. When I did, I had the best of both worlds, the people I know to say "hi" to and leftover pizza to enjoy.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
sick...blegh
This'll be short, cause honestly, I don't have too much energy right now. I've simultaneously got a nasty cough, headache, and am so nauseated I feel like I wanna throw up or eat and can't do either. All I've had today is some pineapple and I'm trying to force down some oatmeal pancakes...making me feel nourished, but no less nauseated. My focus this week will be on making it better than last week.
I have a theory of Peace Corps (slash universal) equilibrium. It seems here when you have a bad morning, the afternoon is great. If yesterday was great, today won't be. It's just the balance of the world I guess, but it's brought into stark reality here. SO this week will be awesome! It'll be an exciting adventure that I feel happy to have. I've been working on the mentality that this is not different or difficult, it's unique. This is my conscientious focus and lens in which I'm trying to view everything. I'll let you know how it goes, but it seems like a great idea to me!
I have a theory of Peace Corps (slash universal) equilibrium. It seems here when you have a bad morning, the afternoon is great. If yesterday was great, today won't be. It's just the balance of the world I guess, but it's brought into stark reality here. SO this week will be awesome! It'll be an exciting adventure that I feel happy to have. I've been working on the mentality that this is not different or difficult, it's unique. This is my conscientious focus and lens in which I'm trying to view everything. I'll let you know how it goes, but it seems like a great idea to me!
Friday, September 9, 2011
why crime doesn't pay
9/9/11
so... my wallet got stolen today when I was at the market...but i'm actually really surprised at how little it's actually bugging me...I think it all has to do with how it happened and what has occurred since then.
I was shopping (and had luckily, gotten all i needed) when someone tapped me on the shoulder and said something, but all I heard was "stolen" in French. I looked into my bag, and sure enough, my wallet was gone. Of course today. i didn't take the bag i normally take to the market, i took the big open one with the broken zipper...my immediate reaction was just to look up and utter an obscenity. Then, everyone started looking around and yelling things, what i heard was "blabhblahblahumpupirablah" (translation: 'blabhlbhablahSHIRTblah') so they were describing who they saw and then, down the hill, away from my village, I saw someone running. Immediately, like 10-20 different people took off running after who we thought was the theif. I was of course, also gathering a rather large crowd so we made our way down close to where they were running into the banana forest and waited. I got 5749825 different stories from all the people around, "we caught him," "no one caught him," "we don't know where they went," "they went that way" so i'm just standing around waiting for something a little more definitive. I was being helped by my fellow PCV who lives nearby and came in to hang out and go to the market, and by a very nice nurse with pretty good english, from the health center. Eventually, I was too overwhelmed by all the people and stares and just wanted to retreat back to my house, so i gave my number to the nurse and she said she'd call if she heard anything. Now, this is where it gets very Rwandan....so I only called the Peace Corps office to let our security head know because that's the procedure, but didn't call any one else. Not long after, as I'm sitting drinking a fanta and chilling with my friend, I get a call from the woman in charge of our compound and i don't understand much, but i got that she knows someone stole from me. Not long after, I get a call from my supervisor (whom i hadn't yet told) letting me know that he's called the Executive Secretary of the Sector (top person for the area) and I thank him and let him know that I talked to Peace Corps about it. We carry on our business around town, and as we're about to head back up to my place we see this police officer in a car who stops in the middle of the road and calls us over. He says "I'm am Police, get in, we go home" so we think he's taking us back to my place and I'll give him the rundown. Then I get a call from one of my nuns (whom I hadn't told), telling me to come home because the police were looking for me. Obviously, they'd already found me, so I let her know. Then he drives us down the road and has us get out because he says they have already arrested people. First, I'm confused by the plural...but not terribly surprised with as quickly as news travels (this has been less than an hour...).
They take us to a crowd of people surrounding 6 men on the ground and then they ask me if i recognize any of them...I, of course, don't since I didn't see who took it. After a while of standing there awkwardly surrounded by my whole town, the crowd starts going nuts and yelling about something and pointing down the street, I look, and the local cops are escorting another 4-5 men down the street. My friend had to go home not long after this, and since I couldn't really help, we asked if we could just go. They took us and the Police Chief got my information and then assured us that they would find and arrest who it was.
All in all, a very interesting experience. Mostly I was laughing, because I told the cop it wasn't much, 2-3 thousand francs (which is less than $5) and they were thinking i was saying dollars. Cracks me up cause dude stole from me cause I'm white and therefore MUST have lots of money, when there were Rwandans selling their vegetables that had more than I did on them. Let that be a lesson to ya!
But of course then, word started coming back to me from my neighbors that it was 2000 dollars. First of all, hillarious. I've never even had 2000 dollars to my name. Second of all, why would I be so dumb as to run around a Rwandan market with that much? I just hope the criminal has learned that crime doesn't pay. Literally. Especially, trying to steal from a Peace Corps volunteer.
so... my wallet got stolen today when I was at the market...but i'm actually really surprised at how little it's actually bugging me...I think it all has to do with how it happened and what has occurred since then.
I was shopping (and had luckily, gotten all i needed) when someone tapped me on the shoulder and said something, but all I heard was "stolen" in French. I looked into my bag, and sure enough, my wallet was gone. Of course today. i didn't take the bag i normally take to the market, i took the big open one with the broken zipper...my immediate reaction was just to look up and utter an obscenity. Then, everyone started looking around and yelling things, what i heard was "blabhblahblahumpupirablah" (translation: 'blabhlbhablahSHIRTblah') so they were describing who they saw and then, down the hill, away from my village, I saw someone running. Immediately, like 10-20 different people took off running after who we thought was the theif. I was of course, also gathering a rather large crowd so we made our way down close to where they were running into the banana forest and waited. I got 5749825 different stories from all the people around, "we caught him," "no one caught him," "we don't know where they went," "they went that way" so i'm just standing around waiting for something a little more definitive. I was being helped by my fellow PCV who lives nearby and came in to hang out and go to the market, and by a very nice nurse with pretty good english, from the health center. Eventually, I was too overwhelmed by all the people and stares and just wanted to retreat back to my house, so i gave my number to the nurse and she said she'd call if she heard anything. Now, this is where it gets very Rwandan....so I only called the Peace Corps office to let our security head know because that's the procedure, but didn't call any one else. Not long after, as I'm sitting drinking a fanta and chilling with my friend, I get a call from the woman in charge of our compound and i don't understand much, but i got that she knows someone stole from me. Not long after, I get a call from my supervisor (whom i hadn't yet told) letting me know that he's called the Executive Secretary of the Sector (top person for the area) and I thank him and let him know that I talked to Peace Corps about it. We carry on our business around town, and as we're about to head back up to my place we see this police officer in a car who stops in the middle of the road and calls us over. He says "I'm am Police, get in, we go home" so we think he's taking us back to my place and I'll give him the rundown. Then I get a call from one of my nuns (whom I hadn't told), telling me to come home because the police were looking for me. Obviously, they'd already found me, so I let her know. Then he drives us down the road and has us get out because he says they have already arrested people. First, I'm confused by the plural...but not terribly surprised with as quickly as news travels (this has been less than an hour...).
They take us to a crowd of people surrounding 6 men on the ground and then they ask me if i recognize any of them...I, of course, don't since I didn't see who took it. After a while of standing there awkwardly surrounded by my whole town, the crowd starts going nuts and yelling about something and pointing down the street, I look, and the local cops are escorting another 4-5 men down the street. My friend had to go home not long after this, and since I couldn't really help, we asked if we could just go. They took us and the Police Chief got my information and then assured us that they would find and arrest who it was.
All in all, a very interesting experience. Mostly I was laughing, because I told the cop it wasn't much, 2-3 thousand francs (which is less than $5) and they were thinking i was saying dollars. Cracks me up cause dude stole from me cause I'm white and therefore MUST have lots of money, when there were Rwandans selling their vegetables that had more than I did on them. Let that be a lesson to ya!
But of course then, word started coming back to me from my neighbors that it was 2000 dollars. First of all, hillarious. I've never even had 2000 dollars to my name. Second of all, why would I be so dumb as to run around a Rwandan market with that much? I just hope the criminal has learned that crime doesn't pay. Literally. Especially, trying to steal from a Peace Corps volunteer.
Monday, August 29, 2011
mental snapshots
So recently, I took a journey south to meet up with some fellow PCVs. It was a lovely trip
full of tasty Mexican food and True Blood. Along with that, I got some perspective from a PCV who's been at site for over 8 months now. It's hard to think that far out, but I could see her comfort and can't wait til I get closer to that. Although, today felt quite comfortable as I walked through town to get my bread and phone credit. I was greeted with many cries of 'muzungu.' But I also got many "Racheri"s and "Umuntoni"s and smiles, that's all I need to just feel a little bit comfier.
Anywho, I was thoroughly enjoying my journey to the south, more specifically my time on my moto-taxi (my favorite method of transportation) where you're really just riding on the back of someone's motorbike you get the beauty of wind on your skin and time to appreciate and a 360° view not afforded by other means. I found myself taking mental snapshots as I went along. I was struck by so many funny and uniquely-Rwandan scenes.
The first of which was my moto driver trying to pass the giant truck ahead of us. Both cars were all over the road because of the ruts cut in by the water on the dirt road and he would speed up and move to one side...they would do the same in attempts to keep their shocks intact. It was a terribly amusing process especially after we did pass them and they then passed us, then we passed each other over and over until we hit the main road. It was especially amusing because it contributed to my slowly accumulating knowledge on Rwandan rules of the road...a great puzzle of honking and light flashing and no real appropriate side of the road to drive on (b/c usually it's right down the middle).
Then there's an image of the boys and men on bikes (you rarely see women ride them) with the big bunches of green bananas piled on the back and hanging off either side as they went to market. The best part of that image is the colors: the red dirt road, starkly contrasted by the green bananas and funny, colorful decorations all over the bikes.
As we continued down the road, we get to the part of my hood that is populated what I can only ever think of as "Lion King trees" stretching over the rolling hills, low brush and then over the river which allegedly has hippos populating it. (I have YET to see one, much to my chagrin). As we get into the city, we pull into the 'Bus Station' that is actually just a dirt clearing in the middle of many small shops with hand painted signs naming bus companies from whom you buy your ticket while the guys stand in the middle and yell the name of their company, their destination and time of departure (often, right in your ear...usually many at once). All this occurs amidst the buzz of moto taxis coming in and out and then pulling up as close as possible to the arriving buses to catch the customers getting off. My favorite though, is probably the looks on those yelling drivers faces when they try to speak to me in uncomfortable English and I reply in Kinyarwanda...the surprise and appreciation on their faces is always comforting, even if my pronunciation still leaves much to be desired.
These things make up every journey around this country, but this particular time, they froze to me and are added to my mental photo album of Rwanda (that wouldn't mean nearly as much to anyone else in its physical form even if I took those pictures with my camera).
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Rwandan time
We had a running joke as trainees that everything we did was operated on either one of two schedules. When we were to take trips or go anywhere and were told a time to meet, we always asked, "Rwandan time or American time?" This question, here, is critical because it is not a difference of 2 minutes, but often, 2 hours.
I've known that Americans are absurdly prompt. As an impatient person, I love it. However, living in Brazil, France and Ireland, I learned to relax and enjoy waiting. If I was early, or they were late, it was an opportunity to explore, grab a coffee or read.
Here, it's on a whole nother scale. Some examples:
-I went to catch a bus in Kigali to get down to Butare to visit a close fellow PCV. I had grabbed a bite and then took my time getting over to the bus 'station' (I use this term loosely, as it really refers to a particular alley that is known to be where Volcano buses stop and where you can buy a ticket). I arrived around 11:10, so I asked for a ticket for the next bus at 11:30. A bus arrived around 11:20, so I hopped on it as usually these buses run only around 15 minutes late. Once I gave the driver my ticket he started laughing and then said I had the wrong time. I was apparently on the 11:00 bus...that left around 11:35. They changed the ticket for me luckily, since I'm white and they thought I was confused. I was, but not about the time.
-This weekend I went to visit my new friend family. I met them on my site visit when I told Father I needed to 'meet a family.' This was among the things asked of us in our Site Visit forms, but I'm glad it is, because my family happens to be very nice and a very useful connection as the father is the director of the local primary school and the mother is a Community Health Worker...bonus! I was supposed to be at their house at 5 on Sunday. I resisted the urge to leave 15 minutes early and arrived at 5:10...of course, neither of them were home so I chatted a bit with the students that live in their compound, then left at around 5:25 cause I was told they were both working. I figured no big deal, they make and break this kind of commitment all the time, and as a CHW, she can get called into the Health Center at any time. So, I began my walk home to make it back before dark. On my way, I ran into Papa T, who was very apologetic that he hadn't been home and was headed there right now, so I could come back with him for the visit. I told him I must be getting home because it would get dark and I really didn't wanna have another run-in with the crazy drunk ladies that had gotten me on my way to the house. Once I got home, Mama T, came knocking on my door. She had been over at the health center and been called by Papa once he saw me on the road. After her repeated apologies and my insistence that it really wasn't a big deal, I figured that it was more important for her if I went and she said they had a moto to bring me home. It turned out to be a lovely visit, especially because their son (who I teach at the pre-school) stopped himself mid-sentence to call me "racheri" instead of muzungu...I smell progress!
I've known that Americans are absurdly prompt. As an impatient person, I love it. However, living in Brazil, France and Ireland, I learned to relax and enjoy waiting. If I was early, or they were late, it was an opportunity to explore, grab a coffee or read.
Here, it's on a whole nother scale. Some examples:
-I went to catch a bus in Kigali to get down to Butare to visit a close fellow PCV. I had grabbed a bite and then took my time getting over to the bus 'station' (I use this term loosely, as it really refers to a particular alley that is known to be where Volcano buses stop and where you can buy a ticket). I arrived around 11:10, so I asked for a ticket for the next bus at 11:30. A bus arrived around 11:20, so I hopped on it as usually these buses run only around 15 minutes late. Once I gave the driver my ticket he started laughing and then said I had the wrong time. I was apparently on the 11:00 bus...that left around 11:35. They changed the ticket for me luckily, since I'm white and they thought I was confused. I was, but not about the time.
-This weekend I went to visit my new friend family. I met them on my site visit when I told Father I needed to 'meet a family.' This was among the things asked of us in our Site Visit forms, but I'm glad it is, because my family happens to be very nice and a very useful connection as the father is the director of the local primary school and the mother is a Community Health Worker...bonus! I was supposed to be at their house at 5 on Sunday. I resisted the urge to leave 15 minutes early and arrived at 5:10...of course, neither of them were home so I chatted a bit with the students that live in their compound, then left at around 5:25 cause I was told they were both working. I figured no big deal, they make and break this kind of commitment all the time, and as a CHW, she can get called into the Health Center at any time. So, I began my walk home to make it back before dark. On my way, I ran into Papa T, who was very apologetic that he hadn't been home and was headed there right now, so I could come back with him for the visit. I told him I must be getting home because it would get dark and I really didn't wanna have another run-in with the crazy drunk ladies that had gotten me on my way to the house. Once I got home, Mama T, came knocking on my door. She had been over at the health center and been called by Papa once he saw me on the road. After her repeated apologies and my insistence that it really wasn't a big deal, I figured that it was more important for her if I went and she said they had a moto to bring me home. It turned out to be a lovely visit, especially because their son (who I teach at the pre-school) stopped himself mid-sentence to call me "racheri" instead of muzungu...I smell progress!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
how snickerdoodles= sense of accomplishment
20/8
Not gonna lie, today is a day I've been very proud of me!! I baked for the first time in my PC oven. I'm not entirely sure why this brought on such a sense of accomplishment, but I'm not gonna question it. It made me remember, yes, THIS is why I joined the Peace Corps. I wanted to try things another way. I knew other ways were possible, but I wanted to experience them. The funny part is, I'm still an American, doing American things. I'm baking snickerdoodles...but I'm doing it in a way that's much more difficult, I guess. I had to hunt and get my ingredients from many different places, and figure out what temp my oven cooks at, and figure out how long they'd actually take to make, and how much of things to add without having my measuring things.
It makes me wonder what gene makes me want to make things more difficult for myself...did I not get enough out of my daily life in America? I think it comes down to my constant quest of self-improvement. I guess I consider this improvement process incomplete without these challenges. The challenges of living here are mostly ones I couldn't even imagine when I began this whole adventure. I think I was signing up half out of curiosity...this was all a big question mark and I had to see what was behind door number 1. Even when I want to walk right back through the door (which Peace Corps makes all too easy)...I think of the question mark that is the next day, the next week, the next month, the next 2 years. I'm curious to see what's there and I think I always will be. Maybe that's why I have to travel, because until I go there, until I see it, touch it, smell it, taste it for myself, it's still just an object of my constant curiosity. Some days I curse my curiosity, but mostly, I can't imagine living my life without it.
Not gonna lie, today is a day I've been very proud of me!! I baked for the first time in my PC oven. I'm not entirely sure why this brought on such a sense of accomplishment, but I'm not gonna question it. It made me remember, yes, THIS is why I joined the Peace Corps. I wanted to try things another way. I knew other ways were possible, but I wanted to experience them. The funny part is, I'm still an American, doing American things. I'm baking snickerdoodles...but I'm doing it in a way that's much more difficult, I guess. I had to hunt and get my ingredients from many different places, and figure out what temp my oven cooks at, and figure out how long they'd actually take to make, and how much of things to add without having my measuring things.
It makes me wonder what gene makes me want to make things more difficult for myself...did I not get enough out of my daily life in America? I think it comes down to my constant quest of self-improvement. I guess I consider this improvement process incomplete without these challenges. The challenges of living here are mostly ones I couldn't even imagine when I began this whole adventure. I think I was signing up half out of curiosity...this was all a big question mark and I had to see what was behind door number 1. Even when I want to walk right back through the door (which Peace Corps makes all too easy)...I think of the question mark that is the next day, the next week, the next month, the next 2 years. I'm curious to see what's there and I think I always will be. Maybe that's why I have to travel, because until I go there, until I see it, touch it, smell it, taste it for myself, it's still just an object of my constant curiosity. Some days I curse my curiosity, but mostly, I can't imagine living my life without it.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
self-motivation
17/8
Motivational music...I know what you're thinking. How can music be motivating, inspiring or in any truly significant way contribute to your mental health and overall well-being? (I know these are the sentiments of certain diehard doubters such as Lynn O'Brien) Nay! I say to you! I feel music can serve just such purposes!
When I'm in the midst of my 'daily doldrums,' I have a playlist I've creatively entitled Peace Corps Motivation/Working Music. The first part is pretty obvious and the second may seem so as well, but it's deceptive. Here, as a classic overachiever and American, I feel like I always have to be 'working' and busy. They tell us at the beginning of training that this is not your average work. They call it the "toughest job you'll ever love." All this is true, but you don't realize it, until you're in the middle of it and you can't figure out how to fill your days. You begin to, typically with the newly time-consuming tasks that occupy the time of most Rwandans (shopping at the market or scouting through boutiques; hand-washing laundry; hand-mopping your floor; visiting neighbors; greeting nearly everyone you see and inquiring as to whether or not 'they're strong'). Unfortunately, while difficult most days, this does not feel like 'work' in the traditional sense, especially to a fine-tuned 9-5er as most of us are.
This is where it all comes together.
The playlist I've created magically reminds me first, that this is all part of the process. I am "working." I'm creating the puzzle pieces that I'll eventually put together to create my fulfilling life here. But this requires a great deal of patience (especially without a jig saw!) Creating the pieces is slow work, especially when you have no idea how they're even really supposed to fit together, and especially when this puzzle is supposed to improve people lives.
It has such songs as "Waiting on the World to Change," the "Yes, We Can" with will.i.am and Barack excerpts, and "Waving Flag." They all get to me, but the last one (besides making me miss the world's greatest summer AND the World Cup) reminds me that I'm actually doing this. When I was in the midst of the application process, in the summer of 2010 (the aforementioned greatest summer), I found a video of kids lip-syncing to that song as part of a project for English teaching from Peace Corps volunteers. While listening to the song now I remember, I AM one of those now, doing just such things, or beginning to...that's enough motivation to get me through the doldrums... and the extra greetings... and all the itchiness from mosquitoes that come outta nowhere to attack at night.
I remember why I wanted to do all this and then I get really excited because I am doing it. And then, I typically turn on some Kanye and dance around like an idiot, but a happy idiot.
Motivational music...I know what you're thinking. How can music be motivating, inspiring or in any truly significant way contribute to your mental health and overall well-being? (I know these are the sentiments of certain diehard doubters such as Lynn O'Brien) Nay! I say to you! I feel music can serve just such purposes!
When I'm in the midst of my 'daily doldrums,' I have a playlist I've creatively entitled Peace Corps Motivation/Working Music. The first part is pretty obvious and the second may seem so as well, but it's deceptive. Here, as a classic overachiever and American, I feel like I always have to be 'working' and busy. They tell us at the beginning of training that this is not your average work. They call it the "toughest job you'll ever love." All this is true, but you don't realize it, until you're in the middle of it and you can't figure out how to fill your days. You begin to, typically with the newly time-consuming tasks that occupy the time of most Rwandans (shopping at the market or scouting through boutiques; hand-washing laundry; hand-mopping your floor; visiting neighbors; greeting nearly everyone you see and inquiring as to whether or not 'they're strong'). Unfortunately, while difficult most days, this does not feel like 'work' in the traditional sense, especially to a fine-tuned 9-5er as most of us are.
This is where it all comes together.
The playlist I've created magically reminds me first, that this is all part of the process. I am "working." I'm creating the puzzle pieces that I'll eventually put together to create my fulfilling life here. But this requires a great deal of patience (especially without a jig saw!) Creating the pieces is slow work, especially when you have no idea how they're even really supposed to fit together, and especially when this puzzle is supposed to improve people lives.
It has such songs as "Waiting on the World to Change," the "Yes, We Can" with will.i.am and Barack excerpts, and "Waving Flag." They all get to me, but the last one (besides making me miss the world's greatest summer AND the World Cup) reminds me that I'm actually doing this. When I was in the midst of the application process, in the summer of 2010 (the aforementioned greatest summer), I found a video of kids lip-syncing to that song as part of a project for English teaching from Peace Corps volunteers. While listening to the song now I remember, I AM one of those now, doing just such things, or beginning to...that's enough motivation to get me through the doldrums... and the extra greetings... and all the itchiness from mosquitoes that come outta nowhere to attack at night.
I remember why I wanted to do all this and then I get really excited because I am doing it. And then, I typically turn on some Kanye and dance around like an idiot, but a happy idiot.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
bus adventures and revelations
13/8
From -African Visas
"What was behind that decision to join the Peace Corps? I'll never be sure. For me, part of it was an instinct opposite from the one that was settling everyone else down. It may have been the remnants of the ancient will to migrate which showed up as curiosity, a dream of other places, the way you gave yourself a chance. At bottom, there was rebellion. From the beginning, when I started to go away, first to [Italy], I wanted to flaunt it, as though crossing borders was a way of meeting the world's dare. And not to be a tourist either: `you had to go and live someplace for months or years to make it real. You had to learn the language which offered a kind of freedom, another way of saying things, another psyche. To know how an [Ethiopian] will express this or that, constructions that make you sound a stranger to yourself, let you be someone else."
I had to put this in because it exactly captures my feelings, the same ones that I have been trying to express since I started this blog.
The funny thing about the Peace Corps is that on the hard days you try and think about why you decided to do it, but you only remember on the good days.
16/8
Just got back from my delightful trip to visit Danae in the big city of Butare. All in all, a very refreshing trip, and as always when I'm with her, we make sense of each other's lives and talk through all our troubles. I also saw some other lovely fellow PCVs there and we chatted through our whole process here and also reflected on the 'us' of 4 months ago when we were getting ready to come here. A funny contrast to the 'us' of now. We were so full of excitement and ideas of what our life would be. Almost all of them have proven untrue in experience.
On the bus there I sat next to the parents of one of my students, a family that I coincidentally, visited on my first visit to this site. After the obligatory scolding for not having visited them, I talked for most of the 3 hr. ride with Mama Thierry. Here the women are often called Mama (enter name of child here, TYPICALLY the first boy). We talked in kinyarfranglais about life here, about my family in America, my life in America and of all things, student loans and interest rates. It's difficult sometimes to want to work through these conversations and forge these connections, but you're always glad you did. It's a lot like confession in that sense. Today I plucked up the courage to send a text to them asking when it would be good for me to visit. I'll likely be seeing them later this week.
On the way home, I sat next to a very nice Presbyterian minister who knows the volunteer nearest me and so we talked a bit about things around my area and then he was curious as to how much it would cost and how long it would take to drive from New York to Los Angeles if visiting the states. An interesting convo and now I'm trying to use my interactions with people in these situations to promote what we're doing here and give people a better understanding of the how and why as well. It's so funny though, because the immediate reaction most people have was verbalized by another woman I met on the bus. "You know kinyarwanda?" I replied, "I try...I am learning." When I told her what org I was with and what I was doing here and especially how long I would stay, she replied, "That's nice, that's good. We like you people." I knew she was referring to white people but I also like to think she was referring to people that stick around for more than a week or two or even a month or two. That's common here and I appreciate that our commitment is for much longer...even when it feels like forever.
From -African Visas
"What was behind that decision to join the Peace Corps? I'll never be sure. For me, part of it was an instinct opposite from the one that was settling everyone else down. It may have been the remnants of the ancient will to migrate which showed up as curiosity, a dream of other places, the way you gave yourself a chance. At bottom, there was rebellion. From the beginning, when I started to go away, first to [Italy], I wanted to flaunt it, as though crossing borders was a way of meeting the world's dare. And not to be a tourist either: `you had to go and live someplace for months or years to make it real. You had to learn the language which offered a kind of freedom, another way of saying things, another psyche. To know how an [Ethiopian] will express this or that, constructions that make you sound a stranger to yourself, let you be someone else."
I had to put this in because it exactly captures my feelings, the same ones that I have been trying to express since I started this blog.
The funny thing about the Peace Corps is that on the hard days you try and think about why you decided to do it, but you only remember on the good days.
16/8
Just got back from my delightful trip to visit Danae in the big city of Butare. All in all, a very refreshing trip, and as always when I'm with her, we make sense of each other's lives and talk through all our troubles. I also saw some other lovely fellow PCVs there and we chatted through our whole process here and also reflected on the 'us' of 4 months ago when we were getting ready to come here. A funny contrast to the 'us' of now. We were so full of excitement and ideas of what our life would be. Almost all of them have proven untrue in experience.
On the bus there I sat next to the parents of one of my students, a family that I coincidentally, visited on my first visit to this site. After the obligatory scolding for not having visited them, I talked for most of the 3 hr. ride with Mama Thierry. Here the women are often called Mama (enter name of child here, TYPICALLY the first boy). We talked in kinyarfranglais about life here, about my family in America, my life in America and of all things, student loans and interest rates. It's difficult sometimes to want to work through these conversations and forge these connections, but you're always glad you did. It's a lot like confession in that sense. Today I plucked up the courage to send a text to them asking when it would be good for me to visit. I'll likely be seeing them later this week.
On the way home, I sat next to a very nice Presbyterian minister who knows the volunteer nearest me and so we talked a bit about things around my area and then he was curious as to how much it would cost and how long it would take to drive from New York to Los Angeles if visiting the states. An interesting convo and now I'm trying to use my interactions with people in these situations to promote what we're doing here and give people a better understanding of the how and why as well. It's so funny though, because the immediate reaction most people have was verbalized by another woman I met on the bus. "You know kinyarwanda?" I replied, "I try...I am learning." When I told her what org I was with and what I was doing here and especially how long I would stay, she replied, "That's nice, that's good. We like you people." I knew she was referring to white people but I also like to think she was referring to people that stick around for more than a week or two or even a month or two. That's common here and I appreciate that our commitment is for much longer...even when it feels like forever.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Nunsense!
12/8
*Nunsense! It's habit forming! Nunsense!* (sung...obviously!)
First and foremost, I must take this moment to thank Lynn O'Brien for bringing me to see Nunsense the Musical all those years ago. I still find myself singing the title song, mostly because it's the only one I remember...but it makes me happy because it reminds me of my wonderful nuns here. The community has embraced me and brought me into their fold so quickly and effortlessly. Since I started working at the pre-school this week, if they don't see me at breakfast or taking tea or having lunch with them, I get a talking-to or a call. I love it.
It's nice to have somewhere where I am appreciated as a person and not a muzungu. They don't stare at me. They let me help with dishes. They're happy to see me when I'm there and ask where I was when I'm gone. I think I also appreciate them so much because the atmosphere reminds me of the HER House...which I miss so much. The value of living with a family can not be overstated, even if that family takes many different forms. I don't think I was meant to live alone. I love walking into a loud kitchen, a full table and intense discussions. It's part of the big family raising (although here my family size would be average to small).
They love learning about me and my life. They're all African but they're from all over the place so they have the common experience of foreigners in Rwanda. They have difficulty with kinyarwanda sometimes, too. It's a wonderful group of vibrant women that I'm happy just to sit around with. That's also part of the appeal. I have somewhere to sit around and chat about life, share a cup of tea and just enjoy life. This is my first, though not likely my last, note of appreciation for them.
Tomorrow I go to visit Danae and I could NOT be more excited for a chance to spend more than just a few hours with her!
*Nunsense! It's habit forming! Nunsense!* (sung...obviously!)
First and foremost, I must take this moment to thank Lynn O'Brien for bringing me to see Nunsense the Musical all those years ago. I still find myself singing the title song, mostly because it's the only one I remember...but it makes me happy because it reminds me of my wonderful nuns here. The community has embraced me and brought me into their fold so quickly and effortlessly. Since I started working at the pre-school this week, if they don't see me at breakfast or taking tea or having lunch with them, I get a talking-to or a call. I love it.
It's nice to have somewhere where I am appreciated as a person and not a muzungu. They don't stare at me. They let me help with dishes. They're happy to see me when I'm there and ask where I was when I'm gone. I think I also appreciate them so much because the atmosphere reminds me of the HER House...which I miss so much. The value of living with a family can not be overstated, even if that family takes many different forms. I don't think I was meant to live alone. I love walking into a loud kitchen, a full table and intense discussions. It's part of the big family raising (although here my family size would be average to small).
They love learning about me and my life. They're all African but they're from all over the place so they have the common experience of foreigners in Rwanda. They have difficulty with kinyarwanda sometimes, too. It's a wonderful group of vibrant women that I'm happy just to sit around with. That's also part of the appeal. I have somewhere to sit around and chat about life, share a cup of tea and just enjoy life. This is my first, though not likely my last, note of appreciation for them.
Tomorrow I go to visit Danae and I could NOT be more excited for a chance to spend more than just a few hours with her!
Friday, August 12, 2011
take a look, it's in a book!
11/8
So today was interesting because I approached it with new eyes. Lasterday, I took some time to go through my old journal entries from when I first arrived. They were so amusing because they made the roller coaster of culture shock and life as a Peace Corps Volunteer sooooo apparent. My entries were all about how it was tough to get used to things but that I knew this is where I was meant to be. This was what I was meant to be doing.
I'm starting to see that again but there are definitely still moments in every day when I think about home. I think about how much more comfortable I'd be, how much more control over my life I would have, how much I want to be with my family and friends. Then, as part of this daily process, I start to remind myself what a unique opportunity this is, that I will have all the time in the world with these people I miss. Two years will fly by, it'll have been full of amazing experiences and I'll be glad I did it. Not to mention all the opportunities that will be open to me after this. I usually go back and forth for a bit then push myself out of bed or tear myself away from my sudoku to go outside and look around. This always helps.
I'm starting to realize I have more control over my life than I think I do. If I let myself be blown about always, I'll always feel out of control and a little more desperate. I'm already affecting people, even if it's only in the very first stage. Saturday will be my one month anniversary at site. I have to celebrate all these little milestones. They give me something to look forward to and to see as an accomplishment. I'm also trying to see other small accomplishments. I have to say, the students are probably the most helpful for this. I understand the gratification that teachers have on a different level now. When the students actually respond to my questions because they're understanding me...it's huge.
Partly, it's because I'm excited they get the material and a big part of it is because I'm starting to enable a little more creative thought. Even if it's just a new game or song, the exposure to those things is always helpful. Slowly, they're starting to understand something outside of themselves. These moments are what ultimately bring me back off the edge. These kids will keep me here because I want to see more moments like today when I read them a book. I can just about bet it was the first time many of them had ever had a book read to them. I could tell in that they didn't know what to do. They couldn't sit, they couldn't just listen at first. Slowly, they began to understand that I would show all of them the pictures and take the time to let them absorb everything on the page.
The craziest part is, this pre-school is not for the poorest of the poor. The kids that come here all have parents that are likely both employed (a rarity here). Even so, the number of them that have books in their homes is probably 1 in 10, as a generous estimate. I still find so many things that I've taken for granted. I make just as many unwitting assumptions about their lives as they do about mine.
They think:
She's white, of course she's rich. Of course she speaks French. Of course she cooks on a fire. Of course she wants to get married. Of course she eats rice and beans everyday.
I think:
They're children, of course they've been read to. Of course they're being fed three meals. Of course they know how to color or make their own pictures. Of course they spend their pre-school time playing games and making up their own stories.
It's all a great reminder that I can't take anything for granted.
So today was interesting because I approached it with new eyes. Lasterday, I took some time to go through my old journal entries from when I first arrived. They were so amusing because they made the roller coaster of culture shock and life as a Peace Corps Volunteer sooooo apparent. My entries were all about how it was tough to get used to things but that I knew this is where I was meant to be. This was what I was meant to be doing.
I'm starting to see that again but there are definitely still moments in every day when I think about home. I think about how much more comfortable I'd be, how much more control over my life I would have, how much I want to be with my family and friends. Then, as part of this daily process, I start to remind myself what a unique opportunity this is, that I will have all the time in the world with these people I miss. Two years will fly by, it'll have been full of amazing experiences and I'll be glad I did it. Not to mention all the opportunities that will be open to me after this. I usually go back and forth for a bit then push myself out of bed or tear myself away from my sudoku to go outside and look around. This always helps.
I'm starting to realize I have more control over my life than I think I do. If I let myself be blown about always, I'll always feel out of control and a little more desperate. I'm already affecting people, even if it's only in the very first stage. Saturday will be my one month anniversary at site. I have to celebrate all these little milestones. They give me something to look forward to and to see as an accomplishment. I'm also trying to see other small accomplishments. I have to say, the students are probably the most helpful for this. I understand the gratification that teachers have on a different level now. When the students actually respond to my questions because they're understanding me...it's huge.
Partly, it's because I'm excited they get the material and a big part of it is because I'm starting to enable a little more creative thought. Even if it's just a new game or song, the exposure to those things is always helpful. Slowly, they're starting to understand something outside of themselves. These moments are what ultimately bring me back off the edge. These kids will keep me here because I want to see more moments like today when I read them a book. I can just about bet it was the first time many of them had ever had a book read to them. I could tell in that they didn't know what to do. They couldn't sit, they couldn't just listen at first. Slowly, they began to understand that I would show all of them the pictures and take the time to let them absorb everything on the page.
The craziest part is, this pre-school is not for the poorest of the poor. The kids that come here all have parents that are likely both employed (a rarity here). Even so, the number of them that have books in their homes is probably 1 in 10, as a generous estimate. I still find so many things that I've taken for granted. I make just as many unwitting assumptions about their lives as they do about mine.
They think:
She's white, of course she's rich. Of course she speaks French. Of course she cooks on a fire. Of course she wants to get married. Of course she eats rice and beans everyday.
I think:
They're children, of course they've been read to. Of course they're being fed three meals. Of course they know how to color or make their own pictures. Of course they spend their pre-school time playing games and making up their own stories.
It's all a great reminder that I can't take anything for granted.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
why a muzungu is like an umusazi
or...why white people are like crazy people, and other thoughts
10/8
I'm really only updating because I'm avoiding doing all the laundry and dishes that are piling up in my room...but it doesn't really matter why as long as I'm doing it, right?
Today I was at the pre-school again and I think maybe some of the novelty of having a 'muzungu' teacher is starting to wear off. Although, obviously not yet all of it, as they were distracted in circle-time by touching my painted toes and rubbing my arm. I'm gonna take this as the positive sign that they're getting more comfortable with me.
There are all sorts of amusing myths about what 'muzungu' skin is like. They have one circulating that if you touch our skin we start to bleed. (I guess because it must be so thin...?) I can't remember any of the others right now so I'll post them as I hear them or remember them. In general, I think it's more the novelty than anything else. Our hair is another source of interest. They always want to touch it and they ask if we put grease in it, if we have to wash it every week (they can hardly contain their shock that's it almost every day), etc. All the explanations are just another part of the cultural understanding (on both parts).
In addition, I'm always having to explain why I don't know the other white people they see around. When we had the French people here that taught karate, all the kids expected me to continue the karate lessons because I, of course, had to know it also. It's also bizarre that I'm an American that speaks French...very confusing, even though they are constantly exposed to a minimum of 3 and often 4 languages.
The nuns appreciate that I'm a white person that doesn't snub my nose at the local food. I find this amusing because I never really saw that as an option. They like to call that and my languages part of the "esprit missionaire" which they identify with because they're all from other countries albeit all from Central Africa.
I also bought my first Rwandan outfit last night. I had bought the igitenge or fabric at the market on Friday and I went to pick it up from the umudozi (seamstress) last night. I had to walk home in it once I had it on and they were so excited that I was now, 'dressing well.' They're not entirely comfortable, in the countryside, with women wearing pants all the time (especially if not part of a suit).
All of this is mostly amusing, though I never thought I'd miss wearing shorts or showing off my knees and shoulders so much...I often catch myself in the paradoxical thought that this would all be easier if I'd grown up in a society like this. By "this" I mean one in which women hold a different position and in which some resources and capital are relatively scarce. But then, I would not (in all likelihood) be where I am today and doing what I'm doing. I'm obviously thankful for all that I've had and have but I envy their comfort with this way of life, even if it's because it's all they've ever known.
I wonder about 'development' in these situations because it always seems to happen so unevenly and right now, they know their lives, and how to live them. There are some obvious improvements (safe drinking water, access to education, training and jobs) that can improve anyone's life but I'm just trying to see how it can all play out successfully. I guess I'm just having trouble seeing past the 'growing pains' associated with these changes. I wonder if, in 'development,' we'll ever be able to work ourselves out of a job
10/8
I'm really only updating because I'm avoiding doing all the laundry and dishes that are piling up in my room...but it doesn't really matter why as long as I'm doing it, right?
Today I was at the pre-school again and I think maybe some of the novelty of having a 'muzungu' teacher is starting to wear off. Although, obviously not yet all of it, as they were distracted in circle-time by touching my painted toes and rubbing my arm. I'm gonna take this as the positive sign that they're getting more comfortable with me.
There are all sorts of amusing myths about what 'muzungu' skin is like. They have one circulating that if you touch our skin we start to bleed. (I guess because it must be so thin...?) I can't remember any of the others right now so I'll post them as I hear them or remember them. In general, I think it's more the novelty than anything else. Our hair is another source of interest. They always want to touch it and they ask if we put grease in it, if we have to wash it every week (they can hardly contain their shock that's it almost every day), etc. All the explanations are just another part of the cultural understanding (on both parts).
In addition, I'm always having to explain why I don't know the other white people they see around. When we had the French people here that taught karate, all the kids expected me to continue the karate lessons because I, of course, had to know it also. It's also bizarre that I'm an American that speaks French...very confusing, even though they are constantly exposed to a minimum of 3 and often 4 languages.
The nuns appreciate that I'm a white person that doesn't snub my nose at the local food. I find this amusing because I never really saw that as an option. They like to call that and my languages part of the "esprit missionaire" which they identify with because they're all from other countries albeit all from Central Africa.
I also bought my first Rwandan outfit last night. I had bought the igitenge or fabric at the market on Friday and I went to pick it up from the umudozi (seamstress) last night. I had to walk home in it once I had it on and they were so excited that I was now, 'dressing well.' They're not entirely comfortable, in the countryside, with women wearing pants all the time (especially if not part of a suit).
All of this is mostly amusing, though I never thought I'd miss wearing shorts or showing off my knees and shoulders so much...I often catch myself in the paradoxical thought that this would all be easier if I'd grown up in a society like this. By "this" I mean one in which women hold a different position and in which some resources and capital are relatively scarce. But then, I would not (in all likelihood) be where I am today and doing what I'm doing. I'm obviously thankful for all that I've had and have but I envy their comfort with this way of life, even if it's because it's all they've ever known.
I wonder about 'development' in these situations because it always seems to happen so unevenly and right now, they know their lives, and how to live them. There are some obvious improvements (safe drinking water, access to education, training and jobs) that can improve anyone's life but I'm just trying to see how it can all play out successfully. I guess I'm just having trouble seeing past the 'growing pains' associated with these changes. I wonder if, in 'development,' we'll ever be able to work ourselves out of a job
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Back to schooolll....
9/8
Today was my second day at the wonderful pre-school that now makes up my days Mon.-Fri. We always start with songs (in 3 languages: Kinyarwanda, English, and French) out in the courtyard all with accompanying moves. Then I started with English class in the "Baby class." The students are between 3-4 and there are just under 20 of them. They all have to wear their uniforms which are little jumpers and plaid shirts (a.k.a. really adorable). I had no idea what they had 'studied' previously and no book to teach from. They are used to just seeing things written on a board and then repeating whatever the teacher says. They have memorized the alphabet and an alphabet chart "A is for apple, B is for ball, etc." However, I was gathering that they didn't really understand what that all meant. They learned a different version of the alphabet song in which they repeat L-Q so when they have to recite the alphabet without singing it they get caught in a loop at those letters...again contributing to my belief that they were blindly repeating.
I was still figuring it all out on my feet so with the littlest ones I just tried to get them to answer "What letter does cat start with?" To get that conveyed, I used my broken kinyarwanda and a lot of repetition myself. However, by the end some of them were actually getting the idea and I taught them a song. We'll be doing some review Thursday.
With the two sets of older kids I started with the classic song "We're Following the Leader" leading them around the room and doing different things with my hands, arms and feet. This lead me to the idea of teaching, "go, slow, stop, left, right, forward and backward" while they ran around the room. They seemed amused and by the end they actually understood what they meant even if they won't remember tomorrow. Again, repetition is key BUT I was encouraged by them answering my questions by the end of the lesson. The first step is adopting how I can teach to how they're used to learning while throwing in some new methods that might just help.
The moral of the story is that I learned a lot from them and really really enjoyed myself and can't wait to continue. I also noticed that after they lined up for bathroom time...none of them washed their hands. I think I'm gonna build kid-sized gerrycan hand washing stations outside with the nuns and then do a lesson on hand washing, with a song of course. They love to learn in song, that much I now know.
Today was my second day at the wonderful pre-school that now makes up my days Mon.-Fri. We always start with songs (in 3 languages: Kinyarwanda, English, and French) out in the courtyard all with accompanying moves. Then I started with English class in the "Baby class." The students are between 3-4 and there are just under 20 of them. They all have to wear their uniforms which are little jumpers and plaid shirts (a.k.a. really adorable). I had no idea what they had 'studied' previously and no book to teach from. They are used to just seeing things written on a board and then repeating whatever the teacher says. They have memorized the alphabet and an alphabet chart "A is for apple, B is for ball, etc." However, I was gathering that they didn't really understand what that all meant. They learned a different version of the alphabet song in which they repeat L-Q so when they have to recite the alphabet without singing it they get caught in a loop at those letters...again contributing to my belief that they were blindly repeating.
I was still figuring it all out on my feet so with the littlest ones I just tried to get them to answer "What letter does cat start with?" To get that conveyed, I used my broken kinyarwanda and a lot of repetition myself. However, by the end some of them were actually getting the idea and I taught them a song. We'll be doing some review Thursday.
With the two sets of older kids I started with the classic song "We're Following the Leader" leading them around the room and doing different things with my hands, arms and feet. This lead me to the idea of teaching, "go, slow, stop, left, right, forward and backward" while they ran around the room. They seemed amused and by the end they actually understood what they meant even if they won't remember tomorrow. Again, repetition is key BUT I was encouraged by them answering my questions by the end of the lesson. The first step is adopting how I can teach to how they're used to learning while throwing in some new methods that might just help.
The moral of the story is that I learned a lot from them and really really enjoyed myself and can't wait to continue. I also noticed that after they lined up for bathroom time...none of them washed their hands. I think I'm gonna build kid-sized gerrycan hand washing stations outside with the nuns and then do a lesson on hand washing, with a song of course. They love to learn in song, that much I now know.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
biking! and farming!
5/8
Oh man a la mancha! My first real long bike ride, which I had intended to be twice as long, just about killed me yesterday. Holy altitude batman! I didn't think it was that bad and then as i was making my way up a hill (that didn't LOOK that steep) I had to pull a Rwandan and walk my bike. I missed immediately the small amount of distance created by being ON the bike when the children, who had been running alongside my bike, started to close in. For some reason, they always do that, for a certain amount of time they're fine just watching and laughing at you from a few feet away and then after about 3 minutes, they always get closer! Maybe it's because that's when the crowd usually grows from about 10 to 50...or centripetal force or something...When they made it even more difficult to breathe (as if the altitude and my 3 months of no real exercise weren't enough), I just jumped back on my bike and rode the downhill all the way home. They need to find a way for you to just be able to ride bikes down hill without having to go uphill...or maybe it's the uphill that make the downhill seem so great.
Today was an ultimate Peace Corps day. I reluctantly rolled out of bed with the sun at 6 so I'd have time to make some breakfast and prepare myself for the hard work I knew was ahead of me. I met with the women with whom I'm hoping to work and got my hoe! We went down to the field and started at it. They were pleasantly surprised that I knew how to work my hoe (unfortunately, any jokes I could've made about working my hoe would've not had the desired effect). I worked for about an hour and a half in the UNGODLIEST of sun that made me remember that I was in Africa. We of course, attracted an audience several times, but I was amazed how many people just walked by. It was one of the only moments of anonymity I've had here and it was awesome. It felt like some degree of integration was starting to take place. To not be noticed because I was IN IT was awesome. If I had had Rwandan clothes and a head scarf on, I might've had even fewer people notice! This was my single most motivating moment in terms of integrating into the society. I don't know if it's my contrary nature or my previous experiences or my constant American desire to be an individual, but I've fought some aspects of the integration...I'm still figuring out what aspects I have to fight to keep and what I'm allowing myself to give up for the sake of comfort and understanding.
While working, I was using the time to try and process their conversation and see what I could make of it. At some point they felt the need to capture the moment and asked if I had a camera. Rwandans, I've found, are obsessed with photos. If you have them, they want to see them and sometimes ask to keep them (No no, that's my family.) If you have a camera, they MUST get a picture with you. I think it's partially because most muzungus just come and go. When I told them I'd be back Weds. and the next Friday, they were happy and surprised. I think I won some points and because I got some blisters but told them, "Ntakibazo." (No problem.) Even though, I have 5 really angry blisters on my hands now that were not happy when I went later to wash my clothes.
The nuns then insisted I sit and have some coffee/tea and some of their little beignets. I didn't protest, but I did ask for some water and got COLD water!! OUT OF A FRIDGE! It was EPIC! Then, I got cheese! ALSO from a FRIDGE! It was the best day ever. I felt very much like a Peace Corps Volunteer and also happy to be where I was and doing what I was doing. I have to remember those moments clearly when running water, 24hr stores, and shorts start to sound terribly appealing.
Oh man a la mancha! My first real long bike ride, which I had intended to be twice as long, just about killed me yesterday. Holy altitude batman! I didn't think it was that bad and then as i was making my way up a hill (that didn't LOOK that steep) I had to pull a Rwandan and walk my bike. I missed immediately the small amount of distance created by being ON the bike when the children, who had been running alongside my bike, started to close in. For some reason, they always do that, for a certain amount of time they're fine just watching and laughing at you from a few feet away and then after about 3 minutes, they always get closer! Maybe it's because that's when the crowd usually grows from about 10 to 50...or centripetal force or something...When they made it even more difficult to breathe (as if the altitude and my 3 months of no real exercise weren't enough), I just jumped back on my bike and rode the downhill all the way home. They need to find a way for you to just be able to ride bikes down hill without having to go uphill...or maybe it's the uphill that make the downhill seem so great.
Today was an ultimate Peace Corps day. I reluctantly rolled out of bed with the sun at 6 so I'd have time to make some breakfast and prepare myself for the hard work I knew was ahead of me. I met with the women with whom I'm hoping to work and got my hoe! We went down to the field and started at it. They were pleasantly surprised that I knew how to work my hoe (unfortunately, any jokes I could've made about working my hoe would've not had the desired effect). I worked for about an hour and a half in the UNGODLIEST of sun that made me remember that I was in Africa. We of course, attracted an audience several times, but I was amazed how many people just walked by. It was one of the only moments of anonymity I've had here and it was awesome. It felt like some degree of integration was starting to take place. To not be noticed because I was IN IT was awesome. If I had had Rwandan clothes and a head scarf on, I might've had even fewer people notice! This was my single most motivating moment in terms of integrating into the society. I don't know if it's my contrary nature or my previous experiences or my constant American desire to be an individual, but I've fought some aspects of the integration...I'm still figuring out what aspects I have to fight to keep and what I'm allowing myself to give up for the sake of comfort and understanding.
While working, I was using the time to try and process their conversation and see what I could make of it. At some point they felt the need to capture the moment and asked if I had a camera. Rwandans, I've found, are obsessed with photos. If you have them, they want to see them and sometimes ask to keep them (No no, that's my family.) If you have a camera, they MUST get a picture with you. I think it's partially because most muzungus just come and go. When I told them I'd be back Weds. and the next Friday, they were happy and surprised. I think I won some points and because I got some blisters but told them, "Ntakibazo." (No problem.) Even though, I have 5 really angry blisters on my hands now that were not happy when I went later to wash my clothes.
The nuns then insisted I sit and have some coffee/tea and some of their little beignets. I didn't protest, but I did ask for some water and got COLD water!! OUT OF A FRIDGE! It was EPIC! Then, I got cheese! ALSO from a FRIDGE! It was the best day ever. I felt very much like a Peace Corps Volunteer and also happy to be where I was and doing what I was doing. I have to remember those moments clearly when running water, 24hr stores, and shorts start to sound terribly appealing.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
New View
3/8
My first glimpses of hope of actually having a purpose here! I haven't started at the pre-school yet, that'll be Monday. BUT I met with the women's group today that farms on the land that the nuns have. I'm meeting again with them on Friday to guhinga (farm) and just try and talk to them to get to know them better. I'm hoping I can ingratiate myself enough to be able to start asking about their lives and getting info that I can use to actually help them. Part of the plan is to help them with nutrition classes, which are great...BUT I'd like to find out what THEY think they need. I do like that part of the Peace Corps model of development. I do think it's extremely important to sit down and hash out what's important for them, what they see their problems as, and what they see as their resources and what they can bring to the table. It makes it exceedingly more difficult because you have to reconcile their grievances with your capabilities and what's real and possible in 2 years. I think this might be the most difficult part of PC, because you want to help so much and they want the help...but first you have to figure out how AND you have to accept that it's not possible to do all the things you want to do and they want you to help with. It's so hard to look these people in the eye and tell them, "I have no idea how to help...but I'll figure it out!"
Part of the problem with the muzungu mystique is that they expect you to be able to solve all their problems, quickly and easily. So I guess the first part of my work is explaining that it's not easy and that we'll have to figure it all out together.
My first glimpses of hope of actually having a purpose here! I haven't started at the pre-school yet, that'll be Monday. BUT I met with the women's group today that farms on the land that the nuns have. I'm meeting again with them on Friday to guhinga (farm) and just try and talk to them to get to know them better. I'm hoping I can ingratiate myself enough to be able to start asking about their lives and getting info that I can use to actually help them. Part of the plan is to help them with nutrition classes, which are great...BUT I'd like to find out what THEY think they need. I do like that part of the Peace Corps model of development. I do think it's extremely important to sit down and hash out what's important for them, what they see their problems as, and what they see as their resources and what they can bring to the table. It makes it exceedingly more difficult because you have to reconcile their grievances with your capabilities and what's real and possible in 2 years. I think this might be the most difficult part of PC, because you want to help so much and they want the help...but first you have to figure out how AND you have to accept that it's not possible to do all the things you want to do and they want you to help with. It's so hard to look these people in the eye and tell them, "I have no idea how to help...but I'll figure it out!"
Part of the problem with the muzungu mystique is that they expect you to be able to solve all their problems, quickly and easily. So I guess the first part of my work is explaining that it's not easy and that we'll have to figure it all out together.
Adventure TIME!
Adventures in Kigali- 27/7
My first time in the big city all on my own...rather lonely really. I am thankful for the free wifi and iced coffee more than anything. I did get some exciting life staples...like soy sauce and pancake mix and peanut M&Ms. I think they'll make it possible for me to survive here, but the oats I've been in search of are elusive. Thus, making my "baking no-bake cookies to make everyone like me" plan very difficult....Last chance at the restaurant supply store, although they're probably ungodly expensive. Last time I got them at T2000...but today for some reason, I couldn't find T2000.
Yeah, I've been there twice.
Yeah, I walked around in circles for half an hour.
No, I still couldn't find it.
But! I did finally find a can opener so I can feed my little Fivel kitty the sardines that have been sitting on my desk/table since I got them from my host fam. A really sweet thought...but I can't bring myself to eat them. Fivel, however, will LOVE them.
Now, I'm trying to leave Bourbon but I can't remember the kinyarwanda word for "check"...sometimes I really really miss having an LCF on-hand to answer all my language and cultural cues. My ultimate goal is to find someone at site like that. Seeing as I see my supervisor only about once a week, I'm thinking the two housepeople that work at my complex (who finally seem to like me) could be very helpful in that capacity. I will, of course, show my appreciation with no-bakes (once I find oats) and with peanut butter (now that I know they like it). I'm really happy PB is such a universal good. It proved a favorite in Brazil when I made PB cookies, ditto in Ireland (although my office preferred scones) and now here. Thanks George Washington Carver. You're my favorite.
Adventures in Nyagatare- 31/7
So an exciting week for me! Lots of change of scenery! On Sunday, Alex and I planned a trip to our exciting, buzzing metropolis of Nyagatare! Though neither of us had actually taken public transport there yet, we braved the wilds of this rugged East and made it! We met up with another PCV from the area and had a lovely (though crazily overpriced) brochette and frites lunch complete with salad! it was very exciting. I think i might have to resign myself to the fact that salads will now be onions, cabbage and shredded carrots. I'm gonna attempt to plant lettuce...but I first have to find a space to do it. Not sure how well received a garden in our courtyard would be. I might still push that idea and just get everybody working on it to make it a fun project. I never really started a garden before, but I have a book...the process will be like everything else here...figuring it out as I go along. Not a bad method really, once you embrace discomfort. That step is critical to life as a PCV. Walking to my bathroom, from my shower, cooking dinner, going to the store to buy bread, planting my herbs...all of this must be done FIRST with the idea that you WILL be watched as you do it, and SECOND that they will likely think you're nuts.
Last night, as I was making pineapple fried rice, i was cutting up my carrots and one of the cooks said to me quite simply, "those aren't good carrots." When I asked why she replied because they were so small. I tried to explain, they were just as good, just tasted a little different because they were baby carrots. Not entirely sure how that was received in the end. I also get a lot of scrutiny for not adding a lot of salt or oil to my cooking. Saying that I liked it that way wasn't really understood so I tried to explain a family history of heart disease. Luckily, as soon as you mention a doctor, while they may not agree, they'll accept that as reasoning. I'm trying to use all this, first, to understand how to live here and make myself accepted (if not understood) and second, to see how that will all affect what I'm trying to do here in terms of improving community health. Every experience here is a lesson.
My first time in the big city all on my own...rather lonely really. I am thankful for the free wifi and iced coffee more than anything. I did get some exciting life staples...like soy sauce and pancake mix and peanut M&Ms. I think they'll make it possible for me to survive here, but the oats I've been in search of are elusive. Thus, making my "baking no-bake cookies to make everyone like me" plan very difficult....Last chance at the restaurant supply store, although they're probably ungodly expensive. Last time I got them at T2000...but today for some reason, I couldn't find T2000.
Yeah, I've been there twice.
Yeah, I walked around in circles for half an hour.
No, I still couldn't find it.
But! I did finally find a can opener so I can feed my little Fivel kitty the sardines that have been sitting on my desk/table since I got them from my host fam. A really sweet thought...but I can't bring myself to eat them. Fivel, however, will LOVE them.
Now, I'm trying to leave Bourbon but I can't remember the kinyarwanda word for "check"...sometimes I really really miss having an LCF on-hand to answer all my language and cultural cues. My ultimate goal is to find someone at site like that. Seeing as I see my supervisor only about once a week, I'm thinking the two housepeople that work at my complex (who finally seem to like me) could be very helpful in that capacity. I will, of course, show my appreciation with no-bakes (once I find oats) and with peanut butter (now that I know they like it). I'm really happy PB is such a universal good. It proved a favorite in Brazil when I made PB cookies, ditto in Ireland (although my office preferred scones) and now here. Thanks George Washington Carver. You're my favorite.
Adventures in Nyagatare- 31/7
So an exciting week for me! Lots of change of scenery! On Sunday, Alex and I planned a trip to our exciting, buzzing metropolis of Nyagatare! Though neither of us had actually taken public transport there yet, we braved the wilds of this rugged East and made it! We met up with another PCV from the area and had a lovely (though crazily overpriced) brochette and frites lunch complete with salad! it was very exciting. I think i might have to resign myself to the fact that salads will now be onions, cabbage and shredded carrots. I'm gonna attempt to plant lettuce...but I first have to find a space to do it. Not sure how well received a garden in our courtyard would be. I might still push that idea and just get everybody working on it to make it a fun project. I never really started a garden before, but I have a book...the process will be like everything else here...figuring it out as I go along. Not a bad method really, once you embrace discomfort. That step is critical to life as a PCV. Walking to my bathroom, from my shower, cooking dinner, going to the store to buy bread, planting my herbs...all of this must be done FIRST with the idea that you WILL be watched as you do it, and SECOND that they will likely think you're nuts.
Last night, as I was making pineapple fried rice, i was cutting up my carrots and one of the cooks said to me quite simply, "those aren't good carrots." When I asked why she replied because they were so small. I tried to explain, they were just as good, just tasted a little different because they were baby carrots. Not entirely sure how that was received in the end. I also get a lot of scrutiny for not adding a lot of salt or oil to my cooking. Saying that I liked it that way wasn't really understood so I tried to explain a family history of heart disease. Luckily, as soon as you mention a doctor, while they may not agree, they'll accept that as reasoning. I'm trying to use all this, first, to understand how to live here and make myself accepted (if not understood) and second, to see how that will all affect what I'm trying to do here in terms of improving community health. Every experience here is a lesson.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
freedom!
Yesterday saw a refreshing change of pace that will be my future! Apparently, my location A.D.D. is just as present here in Rwanda. Luckily, I think the life of a PCV and my project and life will satisfy it. Yesterday, I got to have adventure time with my friend Alex, the 2nd nearest PCV, and the nearest from my group! Twas lovely! I didn't really have a reason to be down there, so I'm glad I asked the priests about it and hitched a ride down there! I got a free meal (which is a blessing in these days of infinite toast, ramen, and random veggies with little sauce over rice). AND I got to go on a hike up a hill and we found a spot to chill and chat on rocks. It was awesome! So that took up my whole day yesterday and today I'm just doing some cleaning (incl. my awful giant pile of laundry) and making my kinyarwanda study plans and working on my budget and setting things up for my day tomorrow in Kigali -the magical place of iced coffee, pizza and free wifi! They discourage us from spending too much time there since it is such a muzungu place (white people) and also, NOT our sites. Makes sense, but making it the forbidden land I think creates even more appeal. That could also just be my contrary nature. Can't help it, totally inherited that one from my dear mother. Unfortunately for Dad, we all did.
Triumph of the day- finding eggs! it only took 2 weeks! but it did require a change in perspective and talking to the right people. I was going about looking for them the muzungu way, searching in shops and asking the owners...NOT the way to do it here. I was having tea and introducing on of the umucozi's (houseperson) to Peanut Butter (which they always LOVE) and asking her what she was up to for the day. She said she was making an omlette and lunch for some guests of the parish. So I asked where she was gonna buy the eggs and she looked at me like i was dumb and answered "from the priests [duh]" who just live up the hill. So I asked her if she could pick some up for me and she's replied, "of course, how many do you want"...wow. so easy...IF i can get things the Rwandan way. consider this lesson learned.
Triumph of the day- finding eggs! it only took 2 weeks! but it did require a change in perspective and talking to the right people. I was going about looking for them the muzungu way, searching in shops and asking the owners...NOT the way to do it here. I was having tea and introducing on of the umucozi's (houseperson) to Peanut Butter (which they always LOVE) and asking her what she was up to for the day. She said she was making an omlette and lunch for some guests of the parish. So I asked where she was gonna buy the eggs and she looked at me like i was dumb and answered "from the priests [duh]" who just live up the hill. So I asked her if she could pick some up for me and she's replied, "of course, how many do you want"...wow. so easy...IF i can get things the Rwandan way. consider this lesson learned.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
On a day like today...
The long and winding road...(goes in a circle in Rwanda). Today has been like so many others, it's simply up and down...a constant flux between, "what am I doing here?" and "look at all that I could (see, learn, etc.) do here!" This weekend was absolute madness because we had a 'Youth Conference' and the thing is, I'm sure whatever you're picturing is not how this was. First of all, the thing was centered around the Center that I happen to live in. So if the thought of a couple hundred kids running around isn't scary enough, now put them right outside the door. Keep in mind, the compound I live in has a hallway of rooms and then a courtyard, off the courtyard are the toilets (pits), showers, and kitchen. So to go anywhere outside of my room I was bombarded with the kids being like "Good morning! Howe areee YU?" which sounds pleasant, until they stare and watch everything you do. closely.
Now when I went in for my Peace Corps interview, they ask a bunch of questions, including "How do you feel about living with the Fishbowl Effect (aka, everyone watching your every move)?" And you know i was all confident and said, "Oh after being in Beijing where people will take photos of you and with you, when they don't know you and talk about the waiguoren and Brazil where everyone knew who the American was I'm sure I can get used to it" Neither of those could have prepared me for this level of interest. I got used to it during training, but I also usually had back-up of a couple other trainees to diffuse everything, or I was with my family. I can make a game of it most of the time, like when the kids follow and touch your arm or leg to make sure you feel human I'll touch them back or joke around with them. In church, I've just gotten used to the stares and I can just zone out. But, it's still intimidating when the kids swarm you. I can't wait for the day when this doesn't bug me as much. It'll come.
SO, i got a great deal of that this weekend and I think both the volume, and the fact that there was no safe place made it tough. But then the really confusing part of this weekend was that I was never really sure of where I fit in to the whole thing. I had a vague schedule but the person I thought was in charge was never anywhere to be found so I did a lot of wandering. This would be fine if I were Rwandan, they just stand around and watch or wander fairly often. They have mastered the art of doing naco (nothing). I'm working on it. I was standing around and making a bit of conversation on Saturday morning while they were making mud bricks and then jumped into the process. It was nice, they were working and laughing WITH me. And then after about an hour, I went to clean up and got roped into choir practice! (Now, when I was here for my visit, I stopped by to see them and they invited me to join, and of course, on the spot, I said yes...) Since then, I sang with them at the Bishop's mass and during a 2 hr rehearsal. We'll see where that goes. I like singing, but all the music is just lyrics hand-written out in various notebooks (no staff, notes, etc. a little tricky)
Then I was just kinda hanging out until my presentation which was supposed to start at 1, but i had no idea where or for how many kids of what ages. I had planned on using the time to do some community analysis and get some info from them while they worked in groups (minimal kinyarwanda, max output). After actually finding who was organizing things, I found out that wasn't going to be possible. It didn't help that Saturday happened to be a day where everything was going in one ear and out the other...i was completely incapable of comprehending kinyarwanda. SUPER great timing! But I made it through the presentation and actually got some ideas of the problems they're facing and then driving home the point that I was there to help...but that they had the ultimate power to fix things. After this, I collapsed in my bed for a nap to recover. Sunday was the WORLD'S LONGEST MASS. They felt the need to recap the weekend, in excessive detail...including the homily that everyone was present for. Department of Redundancy Department, much? My patience is also in direct correlation with level of hunger. BUT I survived...the whole 4 hr. thing.
On the bright side...
I do think there are many fulfilling things that I could be doing here, I'm just working on putting those together...and it's a slow process. I've been given a very traditional Peace Corps position in that I don't have a real organization that I'm working with...or a supervisor...or coworkers. I just have to make it up as I go along. I've never dealt with that before but I'm taking it as an opportunity to make this what I want it to be and as freedom to find the things that I find fulfilling. yeah...that's it.
Now when I went in for my Peace Corps interview, they ask a bunch of questions, including "How do you feel about living with the Fishbowl Effect (aka, everyone watching your every move)?" And you know i was all confident and said, "Oh after being in Beijing where people will take photos of you and with you, when they don't know you and talk about the waiguoren and Brazil where everyone knew who the American was I'm sure I can get used to it" Neither of those could have prepared me for this level of interest. I got used to it during training, but I also usually had back-up of a couple other trainees to diffuse everything, or I was with my family. I can make a game of it most of the time, like when the kids follow and touch your arm or leg to make sure you feel human I'll touch them back or joke around with them. In church, I've just gotten used to the stares and I can just zone out. But, it's still intimidating when the kids swarm you. I can't wait for the day when this doesn't bug me as much. It'll come.
SO, i got a great deal of that this weekend and I think both the volume, and the fact that there was no safe place made it tough. But then the really confusing part of this weekend was that I was never really sure of where I fit in to the whole thing. I had a vague schedule but the person I thought was in charge was never anywhere to be found so I did a lot of wandering. This would be fine if I were Rwandan, they just stand around and watch or wander fairly often. They have mastered the art of doing naco (nothing). I'm working on it. I was standing around and making a bit of conversation on Saturday morning while they were making mud bricks and then jumped into the process. It was nice, they were working and laughing WITH me. And then after about an hour, I went to clean up and got roped into choir practice! (Now, when I was here for my visit, I stopped by to see them and they invited me to join, and of course, on the spot, I said yes...) Since then, I sang with them at the Bishop's mass and during a 2 hr rehearsal. We'll see where that goes. I like singing, but all the music is just lyrics hand-written out in various notebooks (no staff, notes, etc. a little tricky)
Then I was just kinda hanging out until my presentation which was supposed to start at 1, but i had no idea where or for how many kids of what ages. I had planned on using the time to do some community analysis and get some info from them while they worked in groups (minimal kinyarwanda, max output). After actually finding who was organizing things, I found out that wasn't going to be possible. It didn't help that Saturday happened to be a day where everything was going in one ear and out the other...i was completely incapable of comprehending kinyarwanda. SUPER great timing! But I made it through the presentation and actually got some ideas of the problems they're facing and then driving home the point that I was there to help...but that they had the ultimate power to fix things. After this, I collapsed in my bed for a nap to recover. Sunday was the WORLD'S LONGEST MASS. They felt the need to recap the weekend, in excessive detail...including the homily that everyone was present for. Department of Redundancy Department, much? My patience is also in direct correlation with level of hunger. BUT I survived...the whole 4 hr. thing.
On the bright side...
I do think there are many fulfilling things that I could be doing here, I'm just working on putting those together...and it's a slow process. I've been given a very traditional Peace Corps position in that I don't have a real organization that I'm working with...or a supervisor...or coworkers. I just have to make it up as I go along. I've never dealt with that before but I'm taking it as an opportunity to make this what I want it to be and as freedom to find the things that I find fulfilling. yeah...that's it.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
it's a Two-FER
and fer the last 2 weeks!
July 8th-So we have a little thing, amongst some of us volunteers, that we call Humpty Dumpty Days. They are days where you fall apart and can't get back together again. They were decreasing for a period, but with the upcoming exams, language proficiency interrogation, and Swearing-In ceremony, they are coming with increasing frequency. They are largely amusing for us, and in general, for those around us. (Any one not suffering from a Humpty-Dumpty day initially often suffers a contact Humpty-Dumpty day.) AND our poor, dear LCFs (Language & Cross-Cultural Facilitators) suffer the brunt of the madness that ensues with any Humpty-Dumpty days. Many hilarious and useless conversations have been the result of those. They should be addressed in the Pre-Service Training we receive and how to recover from them (it's just like dealing with Dementors. chocolate is required)
July 19th-It's official! I'm a volunteer! it happened and I can proudly say I passed "with flying colors" and nice comments. I survived my French speech at Swear-In with few blunders and got really excited about everything in the moment. I'm not gonna lie, the cheesy lines about adventure and development totally still appeal to me. Surviving everything and getting good feedback was obviously very encouraging after the demoralization that is mandatory in this adjustment process. I'm not even gonna lie, I'm proud of my "Advanced" status on the Language Proficiency Interrogation. I studied my butt off, i love when that's worth it. But now the real test...
I'm at site! Fivel, the cat that serendipitously wandered into the Peace Corps office one week before swear-in, and I are very happy out East. I would be lying if I said I was comfortable...but I'm gonna get there. I have to accept that it will be hard again to go to shops, with the stares and 50 children in tow. It will be hard sometimes, to go out of my room and force myself to have awkward conversations with the people in my compound. I will likely suffer some actual, physical burns as a result of my not-up-to-code kerosene cooking stove. But on the bright side, I've already been doing it for almost 3 months somewhere else, and while a new place presents all new challenges, I know I'm capable of conquering them! Also, if all else fails, I know I can live off grilled peanut butter sandwiches and pineapple! AND this time, my kinyarwanda is MOSTLY functional! i can hang.
Luckily, on the other side of things, what I was most scared of...finding purpose and usefulness, has been less difficult than anticipated. I still only manage a few hours of actual work a day, but that's part of the job desciption...figuring out your job. This is significantly more difficult than having one handed to you, but then you can also considering everything an accomplishment! I have established that I'll be 'working' at the pre-school next door with the nuns (they mentioned helping w/ drawing and clay time...i'm gonna try to slip some hygiene English songs), I'm working on a connection with setting a Camp GLOW and Camp BE (PC int'l. projects for helping with confidence-building, communications skills and the like for dev. purposes), and trying to establish something for the organization I was ostensibly sent here to help create. BUT on the bright side of this all, I'm helping at a small Conference thing for the youths of the area and I get to do some community analysis with them which will hopefully be a jumping-off point and I've talked to my supervisor about getting in touch with the director of a home for street children and plan on getting back in touch with the directors of locals schools so I can work on forming English clubs there! This will happen! Even amidst all the scrutiny that I have constantly, including the girl that is currently just standing outside the window, watching me work....make THAT conversation, and within moments they multiply and now there are 8 kids out the window...at 4:30 PM saying "Good morning! How are you?" followed by my neighbor slash fellow-compound-dweller and the kinyarwanda "what-do-you-know-that-I-can-point-at" Quiz begins...just another day.
July 8th-So we have a little thing, amongst some of us volunteers, that we call Humpty Dumpty Days. They are days where you fall apart and can't get back together again. They were decreasing for a period, but with the upcoming exams, language proficiency interrogation, and Swearing-In ceremony, they are coming with increasing frequency. They are largely amusing for us, and in general, for those around us. (Any one not suffering from a Humpty-Dumpty day initially often suffers a contact Humpty-Dumpty day.) AND our poor, dear LCFs (Language & Cross-Cultural Facilitators) suffer the brunt of the madness that ensues with any Humpty-Dumpty days. Many hilarious and useless conversations have been the result of those. They should be addressed in the Pre-Service Training we receive and how to recover from them (it's just like dealing with Dementors. chocolate is required)
July 19th-It's official! I'm a volunteer! it happened and I can proudly say I passed "with flying colors" and nice comments. I survived my French speech at Swear-In with few blunders and got really excited about everything in the moment. I'm not gonna lie, the cheesy lines about adventure and development totally still appeal to me. Surviving everything and getting good feedback was obviously very encouraging after the demoralization that is mandatory in this adjustment process. I'm not even gonna lie, I'm proud of my "Advanced" status on the Language Proficiency Interrogation. I studied my butt off, i love when that's worth it. But now the real test...
I'm at site! Fivel, the cat that serendipitously wandered into the Peace Corps office one week before swear-in, and I are very happy out East. I would be lying if I said I was comfortable...but I'm gonna get there. I have to accept that it will be hard again to go to shops, with the stares and 50 children in tow. It will be hard sometimes, to go out of my room and force myself to have awkward conversations with the people in my compound. I will likely suffer some actual, physical burns as a result of my not-up-to-code kerosene cooking stove. But on the bright side, I've already been doing it for almost 3 months somewhere else, and while a new place presents all new challenges, I know I'm capable of conquering them! Also, if all else fails, I know I can live off grilled peanut butter sandwiches and pineapple! AND this time, my kinyarwanda is MOSTLY functional! i can hang.
Luckily, on the other side of things, what I was most scared of...finding purpose and usefulness, has been less difficult than anticipated. I still only manage a few hours of actual work a day, but that's part of the job desciption...figuring out your job. This is significantly more difficult than having one handed to you, but then you can also considering everything an accomplishment! I have established that I'll be 'working' at the pre-school next door with the nuns (they mentioned helping w/ drawing and clay time...i'm gonna try to slip some hygiene English songs), I'm working on a connection with setting a Camp GLOW and Camp BE (PC int'l. projects for helping with confidence-building, communications skills and the like for dev. purposes), and trying to establish something for the organization I was ostensibly sent here to help create. BUT on the bright side of this all, I'm helping at a small Conference thing for the youths of the area and I get to do some community analysis with them which will hopefully be a jumping-off point and I've talked to my supervisor about getting in touch with the director of a home for street children and plan on getting back in touch with the directors of locals schools so I can work on forming English clubs there! This will happen! Even amidst all the scrutiny that I have constantly, including the girl that is currently just standing outside the window, watching me work....make THAT conversation, and within moments they multiply and now there are 8 kids out the window...at 4:30 PM saying "Good morning! How are you?" followed by my neighbor slash fellow-compound-dweller and the kinyarwanda "what-do-you-know-that-I-can-point-at" Quiz begins...just another day.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Last 2 Weeks of Training!
I'm two weeks away from becoming an 'official' Peace Corps Volunteer. And I've hit somewhat of a plateau in terms of language, cultural adjustment, host family integration...you name it. I no longer have the high that was post-site visit. I can communicate in kinyarwanda on a just-above-basic level and can understand what I need to (most of the time). Essentially, I'm at cruising altitude. BUT now is truly NOT the time to become complacent; I have my official LPI a week from Saturday and I have a workshop to present (in KINYARWANDA) on Wednesday to PC and next Tuesday to secondary school students. SO, my laziness is ILL-timed to say the least. So I'm working on finding some motivation and trying to put together a game-plan for when I get back to site.
BUT on the bright side, I really am more and more comfortable with my host family everyday. I've reached the point where even though I'll worry that what I'm doing is weird, at the wrong time or otherwise bizarre...I'll still do it and trust that my family will laugh and point me in the right direction or tell me to do something differently. At least now I'm willing to take the chance and not paralyzed into inaction. I think it also might stem a bit from the little time I have left living with them. They've learned enough about me to expect and understand some things, and everything else I just don't really care about.
I had a very amusing time this weekend at umuganda -the Rwandan, once-monthly community work day. We were working on clearing a site to build houses for genocide widows. It was a very interesting and exhausting experience. Once we arrived, we took our ever-useful hoes, machetes, and shovels and set about hacking at stumps that were in the way of the house construction. Most of the time, we were in fact, the main attraction. It was very amusing, apparently, to watch the abazungus sweat and dig in the dirt. Just as we were about to leave, everyone else was just arriving and setting to work. This was interesting because it was supposed to start at 7 and we arrived around 8:15 and I was concerned that we were really late....most people arrived between 9 and 10.
Then, on the same day, after the most wonderful cold bucket bath, we headed off to the big city of Kigali to work on banking stuff and buy some host family gifts.
After being the only person in our group for whom a debit/atm DIDN'T exist, I decided to cut my losses and just go enjoy pizza and some shopping at Nakumatt (the supermarket/ superstore).
Needless to say, by the end of the day I was falling asleep in my plate at our late dinner.(almost literally, it would be a very amusing site had it been recorded)
And on to the next week! This week is not looking too exciting, just prepping for our workshops and more language. I just have to figure out EXACTLY what I need to learn and study this week in language to be better prepared for the Language Proficiency Interrogation. We'll see how that goes...in kinyarwanda tuzareba- "We will see."
Post Script: This is pretty much just rambling, so if you have any specific questions or curiosities about Rwanda and my life, just ask in comments or on the f-book.
BUT on the bright side, I really am more and more comfortable with my host family everyday. I've reached the point where even though I'll worry that what I'm doing is weird, at the wrong time or otherwise bizarre...I'll still do it and trust that my family will laugh and point me in the right direction or tell me to do something differently. At least now I'm willing to take the chance and not paralyzed into inaction. I think it also might stem a bit from the little time I have left living with them. They've learned enough about me to expect and understand some things, and everything else I just don't really care about.
I had a very amusing time this weekend at umuganda -the Rwandan, once-monthly community work day. We were working on clearing a site to build houses for genocide widows. It was a very interesting and exhausting experience. Once we arrived, we took our ever-useful hoes, machetes, and shovels and set about hacking at stumps that were in the way of the house construction. Most of the time, we were in fact, the main attraction. It was very amusing, apparently, to watch the abazungus sweat and dig in the dirt. Just as we were about to leave, everyone else was just arriving and setting to work. This was interesting because it was supposed to start at 7 and we arrived around 8:15 and I was concerned that we were really late....most people arrived between 9 and 10.
Then, on the same day, after the most wonderful cold bucket bath, we headed off to the big city of Kigali to work on banking stuff and buy some host family gifts.
After being the only person in our group for whom a debit/atm DIDN'T exist, I decided to cut my losses and just go enjoy pizza and some shopping at Nakumatt (the supermarket/ superstore).
Needless to say, by the end of the day I was falling asleep in my plate at our late dinner.(almost literally, it would be a very amusing site had it been recorded)
And on to the next week! This week is not looking too exciting, just prepping for our workshops and more language. I just have to figure out EXACTLY what I need to learn and study this week in language to be better prepared for the Language Proficiency Interrogation. We'll see how that goes...in kinyarwanda tuzareba- "We will see."
Post Script: This is pretty much just rambling, so if you have any specific questions or curiosities about Rwanda and my life, just ask in comments or on the f-book.
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