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.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
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.
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