back at it!

Day 1- back in Dublin.

I've gone through quite a few feelings in the last day (granted my day has been about 30 hrs). But it's been a doozy. It's funny how different this all felt from the previous times I've left the country. I've always been excited and prepped and ready to go. This time it just felt like I was packing and getting on a plane again. When we were hopping in the car to head to the airport, I was nervous (and I rarely get nervous). I felt the knot in the pit of my stomach that is me questioning my decisions. Yes, of course, I still wanted to go to Ireland but it keeps seeming more and more weird to leave the people I love.
But I got into the airport and the familiar airport zen came back to me...I was able to be in my zone and my element. Heck, I started a dance party with one of the TSA people! I had a bit of excitement when they overbooked the flight and said we could get an $800 voucher to get re-routed through London Heathrow. Sadly, after all my gearing up to change my plans and banking on my ticket home they didn't even need us volunteers. (Pay attention kids, this is important later on, spoiler alert).
Once I got on the plane I started getting excited and once I started seeing the city and the hills outside of Dublin, I was bouncing in my seat and squealing with delight (literally, lots of people stared). Little did I know what awaited me off that plane...
So I got off and was greeted by the brand-new shiny terminal and the world's LONGEST line for passport control. These people were gonna be there all day clicking their little stamps so they really didn't care how long we were standing there. There were many wonderful people-watching moments like crazy crying kids, and their exhausted parents being relieved by a lady with a perfectly-distracting granola bar! The agents directing everyone also offered people an "irish breakfast" and then said that that really just meant a Guinness.
Once I finally made it through I got to the baggage carousel...waited for 10 mins, watched everything go around (twice) then started looking at all the others. I hunted down the lost luggage people  and after telling me twice that I should double check the carousels, the other woman said they were still in Chicago (which was not a lot of help to me in Dublin).
Now I may sound annoyed by all this but I was tired I was really just amused, I found it all quite comical. Then it got even funnier! Cause when I tried to call the guy from CouchSurfing I was to stay with, his phone didn't work! And you'll just have to stay tuned for the dramatic conclusion because I'm falling asleep on the keybbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbtt43djjjjjjjjfffffffffffffffffff.

the big apple is too big for a bite!

So I hope I'm not being too terribly redundant in all my posts about readjustment but whether or not they're being read, it certainly helps my process to get it all out. This week I've journeyed to NYC to visit some dear friends and make a foray into Boston. Though it's only been 4 days now of travelling, and 2 of those days were spent in Boston, I've been struck by the loveliness that is city-life. Not that Champaign, IL does not have its own charms to recommend itself, but I definitely needed a dose of big city. What I got, was the biggest! What I've enjoyed most is the "AMURKA!"-ness of it all. The 4 different languages I heard next to the US Vets Memorial display in the Boston Common, the 478529043 different looks of people on the NY Subway...it's amazing and unique.
In a selfish vein, it's been nice to have a crowd to blend into. In New York, I can literally wave my arms above my head and yell "woogedy woogedy" and no one bats an eye. It's a far cry from walking down the street in local clothes, speaking the local language and drawing about as much attention as a 6-legged dog. (Complete with phone photo-ops and exclamations to the nearest deity.)  It's also kinda weird because I think people are still constantly judging me. I look around and wonder if I'm wearing the right thing or if I'm blending in enough (just like i did in Rwanda). I get overly flustered when my metro card doesn't run right, I spend way too much worrying about what I'm wearing, finally deciding on an outfit after trying on 4, only to go back to the first and then spending half an hour struggling with accessories. I'm convinced everyone knows how 'fresh off the plane' I am. I'm convince everyone's thinking...."Um, who let her in this country...back on the streets...where small children could see!?"
Luckily, I'm pretty convinced that it's mostly in my mind. I'm almost positive NYC has not noticed the addition of another 20-something girl with impractical shoes. I just got to get around my crazy enough to enjoy that.

just when you thought it was safe...

...to go back on your computer and harmlessly check your facebook! It's not safe because unfortunately for you, I'm not quite done yet! I've been back now over two weeks and the initial shock of things has worn off. Now, I'm just dealing with the aftershocks (which I just had to look up on google to make sure it was a real word and not just something I was making up). Now I'm not sure if this is like or UNlike an earthquake having never experienced one, but there's no warning for when these aftershocks occur. No signal to tell you, "you're about to be overwhelmed and confused in a completely normal situation!!" My moment the other day was watching this woman's groceries go down the conveyor belt. I was staring at them in disbelief with all their shiny packaging and pre-made-ness and the variety of all the different things she could get in one place. And also by how little that meant to her. In all likelihood, she's never stared at her groceries in wonder. (Just going out on a limb there) And it stinks because people don't wanna hear about how much they take for granted. It's like looking at someone and saying "you're a spoiled jerk!" Even if that's not at all your intended meaning. You're just still stunned and amazed and appreciative of it all. I know that will fade, but I hope I never lose it completely especially in light of my next topic: First World Problems. I have found myself quickly irritated by people angered at things not going perfectly smoothly. All I can think is "So what, you have to get transferred twice and can't buy this ticket from the comfort of your leather chair." It's not really fair to people because they're used to things working smoothly and quickly and it's amazing how quickly you fall back into that, but obviously the Peace Corps sure makes you more ready to go with the flow and handle any situation thrown your way. It's hard to remember that not everyone around you has been through the same experience. You've been with them through so much and have known them so long you sometimes forget where you end and they begin. Then it comes into stark reality in those situations, but you don't wanna be that annoyingly optimistic and easy person that just says "hey, not a big deal, member how you getta eat 3 times a day?" That's not a way to keep friends, so you just silently seethe and wonder if you'll ever fit into your world again. But overall, I do feel at peace and at home and at...me. It's just nice to still have those Peace Corps people in my life with whom I can say "Can you believe them? Let's get a primus!"

So I've been back a week today, and it's been quite the whirlwind. I got into Chicago Saturday afternoon and was met with smiles and hugs at the airport from my parents. It was nice to have someone at the end of the long journey. And then it was crazy to drive back down the highway with all the things you see from the road and it's bizarre the things you get caught up on...windows, streetlights, billboards. It's been nuts. I keep finding myself going to do things the way i would've done them in Rwanda and then catching myself and reminding myself that I'm in America. Example: I woke up my first day home, a Sunday morning at 4:30 a.m. It might've been a bit of jetlag, but I'd been waking up around that same time for the 3 days before I left Rwanda because of all my nervous/excited energy. But I woke up, looked at my phone, and then thought- 'I've got laundry to do and stuff to catch up on, but I can't do anything til the sun comes up at 6.' Then I looked around, realized there was no mosquito net over my head and saw the light switch. So I turned it on and then remembered all I had to do with my laundry was throw it in a machine with some detergent....crazy stuff. It's nice though cause even while I'm looking around at things sometimes and feeling like they're so far away and like I'm a different person, when I'm with my friends, I feel like myself again. When I'm out drinking jumbo margaritas and then quoting Will Ferrell the whole way home with my parents or going for a coffee date with my dad, I feel like it's where I'm supposed to be. This will continue to be weird and I will continue to walk into restaurants and still want one of everything on the menu again, just to try it, but I'm slowly feeling so hopeful and excited about what's to come.

flying into Amsterdam

28/4 So many weird feelings flying into Amsterdam. It was a crowded flight, none of the beautiful calm that I had flying in on Christmas day. Surprisingly, I’m less overwhelmed than I was then. I think I had more time to prep for going, I was more mentally prepared for what this airport and everything in it would be like…it’s still weird. I feel like I’m going to do something wrong or that everyone’s gonna look at me and just know that I’m clueless, not just because I don’t speak Dutch but because I’m fresh off the plane. Fresh from the village where toilets were an exciting day and downright thrilling if there was enough water to flush ‘em. Fresh from the land where a shower meant a basin and your dinner light was candlelight. I feel like they can see it on me. And I’ve been here before, not just this airport but Europe and this world. I was raised in it, and as always with reverse culture shock, home feels foreign. I’m sure it’ll be easier when I land in Chicago but for now, I’m still awkward. Leaving was surprisingly easy. I think my mind was so occupied with so many things that I wasn’t as focused on the having to say Goodbyes. They also didn’t feel like they were for good…so weird. I did start losing it when my Danae-nae started crying. I felt like I was abandoning her, like I was going and leaving her to the wolves. I imagined being on the other side and seeing someone go and knowing the person that you’ve spent the last year relying on won’t be there for the next. Who do you call when you’re lost and tired and need a sympathetic and empathetic ear? And that thought made me feel so guilty and upset, and even more so cause I didn’t know what would be comforting at a time like that. I’m trying not to dwell on all that, but instead to revel in the fun that is people watching at an airport.

We're off to see the wizard...or indoor plumbing!

Here it is, folks. This is my, 'I'm leaving Peace Corps' post. I'm parting ways with peace Crops peacefully and happily. I've accepted my invite to pursue a Masters in Development Practice at Trinity College Dublin. My journeys are not coming to an end, on the contrary, they are just beginning. I'm excited for new opportunities and new adventures and ultimately, I'm doing this all so I can do more things for more people than I could here and in these circumstances. I do wish that this had all gone a little differently, but life is what it is and ultimately I feel like you do what you can with what you have when you have it and when you have to. I really want to document the part of this process that few people address. Most Peace Corps blogs end with leaving but I really want to document the horrors and confusions that are reverse culture-shock. My blog began long before Peace Corps, and perhaps to your chagrin, will continue long after! Let the new chapter begin, let me turn the page and pick a really cool transition word. Maybe I can work on a "Changes" montage, complete with David Bowie soundtrack!! You're welcome in advance. (Also sorry in advance if you see me soon and start to worry about my singing David Bowie all day. Remember, my human interactions have been few, far between, and primarily with people who think that bowel movements are acceptable polite conversations for mealtimes. You can hardly fault my readjustment from that, right? I will be overwhelmed in Targets and may start crying trying to pick a toothpaste. This experience has undoubtedly changed my life and I will always value all the madness that it has been and given me...the neuroses will take years to undo!! But truly, thanks for all your support throughout this and all your hope and faith for the future!

a break

So I'm sure this post won't be quite as entertaining as my list because really, what's more amusing than absurd marriage proposals?
BUT! I'm in the lovely frame of mind that comes with an impending vacation. It's funny how much that can lift the spirits. I don't know if it's the change of pace, change of scenery or the excuse to not get the cheapest thing on the menu, but I'm excited. It doesn't take much for me to feel like I'm on vacation here. The opportunity to sit around with free wifi and a coffee pretty much feels like a vacation. I'm enjoying both of those currently and planning an excellent weekend break to Gisenyi on Lake Kivu. I'll bask in lounge chairs and overlook volcanoes in the Congo. I hear the rebels can't make it across the lake at the moment so I should be grand! I'm going with my dear friend Danae and we plan to begin our adventure with coffee talks and pedicures. Of all the things that are available to me in the capital of Rwanda, these two are probably my favorites. So we'll enjoy those and have a mini break on the lake! I'll likely come back with a nasty sunburn, no matter how hard I try and avoid it. The African sun is surprising unrelenting! Who knew equatorial Africa would be like that? It also probably doesn't help that on the lake I'll be able to do scandalous things like exposing my knees and shoulders. They get burned a lot easier when they haven't seen the light of day in 11 months. Sometimes I give 'em a breather in kigali where the more scantily clad muzungus make me feel demure by comparison. I'll enjoy it all and take some pictures that I might even post if I'm back here with fast enough internet! Sorry for the lack of them, their posting is replete with issues. I just don't have the patience to wait 14 hrs. for them to load. I'm sorry that you are the ones who suffer, although my sunburn is probably not exactly what you're scouring the interwebz for anyway. Hope the promise of summer in your necks of the woods is doing as much for you as my vacation is here!

why I may come back wed...or with 500 cows

Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like #70-Marriage Proposals

So the above is a great version of a daily occurrence. Here, fielding marriage proposals is something to be expected every time you leave your compound. It doesn't really matter the number of times you've rejected or even, accepted someone. It's like Groundhog's Day here, whatever happened yesterday is completely forgotten today and thus, repeated.
Most of the time it is just a joke that you exchange with a couple of moto drivers, you know they're going to ask, they know you're going to reject them. But the fun part of all this is thinking of the different ways to deflect the sexual harassment. Some of my personal favorites:

Rwandan man: Muzungu, i love you.
Me: I love you too, when are we off to make our many children? (if this is all said in rapid english, he won't get any of it...if they do, you laugh, then run.

Rwandan man: I want go America with you.
Me: Ok, but you're buying both our tickets. (I usually say this in Kinyarwanda so they get the full effect and realized they can't afford a gold digger like me.)

Rwandan man: You are beautiful, will you marry me? (usually spoken in kinyarwanda by the less learn-ed, but no less hopeful OR after they've realized I speak kinyarwanda and thus want to bring their flirting A-game)[hard to resist, right?]
Me: Ok, but my father wants 500 cows for my dowry. (This is an absurd number. There's even a phrase in kinyarwanda for a girl that is worth 100 cows. Most families work their way up to one. My host father was rich with his 3. Again, working the gold digger angle is very powerful.)
Although sometimes they reply with: Ok, I will work for this. (this is my own way to encourage development)

Rwandan man: You are beautiful, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes, I have one in America.
Rwandan man: Then you should have a matching set. One here in Rwanda, one in America.
Me: I don't think my boyfriend would like that.
Rwandan man: But I would.


Rwandan man: What is your nationality?
Me: American.
Rwandan man: Would you like it to be Rwandan?
Me: Huh? (keep in mind the only context is a daily conversation, i don't ALWAYS know where they're going with these questions I only mostly understand in kinyarwanda
Rwandan man: You can marry me, become Rwandan.

Now often these proposals are thrown at you in the most unassuming situations Ex. walking to the market, buying your food at the market, walking from the market, boarding a bus, waiting on a bus, getting off the bus...I think you get the idea. But you don't always know how to respond to them. When you are ready, gems like this come out...

Rwandan man: You are beautiful, you will marry me? Me: Ok, but you must be like an American man.
Rwandan man: Ntakibazo. (no problem)
Me: American men cook food and do laundry and take care of children. Sometimes they will even stay at home when their wives go to work.
Rwandan man: *laughing*
Me: No really, if we will marry, you must do this.
Rwandan man: I will learn

Now you have to appreciate their flexibility. Their willingness to learn, change and grow is very inspiring, but sometimes you've just had one too many proposals in a day. Travelling days are particularly arduous. But it's really annoying when they don't get it or can't take a hint. It reveals an underlying lack of respect that's really irritating.
But you have to keep your head up. So sometimes, I pretend I'm just a regular muzungu who doesn't understand kinyarwanda. Now this increasingly ineffectual as more and more people learn English. This is when I bless America and say...
Lo siento, yo sólo hablan español.

Rebirth, fresh starts and new beginnings.

So first, Happy Easter to those who celebrate it! Spring has always been my favorite season because everything comes alive and you think it’s necessary to wear shorts or skirts in 50 degree weather because “it’s so warm outside!” The flowers bloom, trees seem alive and everything becomes green. I hadn’t realized until I moved to Rwanda how much trees and green…ness mean to me. I don’t know if it’s just because green is my favorite color, but when I’m surrounded by it, everything seems happier!

Maybe it’s because you always have shade from the sun, a little protection from rain or just something to sit under while you read a book. I guess there’s a level of protection or comfort that they can always provide. There’s also a stability; mature trees lend themselves to a sense of the history of a place. You know that you are looking at this tree just as so many people have before. It’s a connection to the past.

Now I can’t say that because my area has few mature trees I am uncomfortable, but I definitely appreciate more the parts of Rwanda that do have so many. The whole country used to be more forests but with population growth, obviously that has changed. People need the trees to build their homes and to cook on. The majority of the population still lives in these sorts of conditions. I can’t begrudge people for cutting down the trees they need to survive, but it still makes me sad.
I have many similar reactions to things people view as life necessities here. I was recently visiting a PCV friend of mine and we were discussing dogs with a coworker of hers. Now dogs have a beyond complicated history here in Rwanda but the discussion turned to how Americans treat their pets. We were discussing how people don’t ever eat their pets, now this was a laughable luxury to her counterpart. He absolutely lost it when we went on to explain that people could even be put in jail for treating their pets badly. I guess I’d never really considered animal rights a luxury, but I suppose they are when you can’t afford to do anything rather than eat them (the animals, not the rights).

So you know, just another moment in which I’ve realized how privileged our lives are. I knew I would get that coming here but it’s funny how little you can be cognizant of, especially when you invest so much energy in TRYING to cognizant of those things. Oh Life!

My mind has once again wandered and this has turned out to be nothing that I started writing about. Maybe I’ll actually write what I intended to write about tomorrow…

Guest blogging...

I'm kind of a big deal, people know me. Did I mention I have many leather-bound books and that my hut smells of rich mahogany?

Obviously, this is in jest, because I don't have that many books in Rwanda...BUT check it-

These are some guest blogging pieces I've done, primarily on Gender & Development. One is from the Peace Corps Rwanda Gender & Development Committee and the other is a short piece for a UNITWIN blog. Enjoy!

GAD Peace Corps RWANDA

UNESCO/UNITWIN Blog

teeter-totter 20s

So I've found myself in several conversations with friends in the past few weeks discussing how much of our lives are in transition. Now, I know life is always changing on ya and that we're constantly adapting, but I feel like our 20s are particularly trying in this regard. We leave the certainty of college and the academic life for other things. Even Grad School has all sort of 'your future career/life' implications. You have to decide which direction you wanna go. For some people that choice is relatively easy but even then, you have to decide HOW you wanna go. The WHERE and WHAT are not nearly so difficult as the HOW and the WHY. And these questions are critical to functioning as an 'adult' in our society. Think about a typical conversation:
"Hi, nice to meet you. What do you do? How'd you get into that line of work?"
BAH! simple conversations have become mine fields. I feel like now, more than ever, we have to answer..."Dunno" or "Well, it just kinda fell into my lap"
We try and figure out where we're going and how we're gonna get there, but as is obvious, life changes those plans. We so often have to compromise the original plan for something that's more feasible. But then we still have to find a way to take this detour and build the road back to where we want to be (if we can figure out where that is).
The exciting part of all of this is the boundless opportunity in front of us. We can do anything...but I'm not sure that's as true as we once thought. Yes, you can do anything, as long as you can still find somewhere to live and someway to eat. We're building our careers and our lives.
But that's also scary because what's more important in building things than their foundation? You mess up your foundations...you're always gonna be standing on something shaky.
Ultimately you have to go with your gut and trust the foundation you've already built and hope that if you want, you have the wiggle room to make changes as you go along. Either way, there's no stopping the progression of time, but hey, then we're closer to our first-floor building 30s, right?

new feelings...

It's funny how many times in Peace Corps you say, "...and I've never felt like that before!" Sometimes it's a great triumph where you've helped with something and seen an almost magical change or transformation, sometimes it's amoebas or dysentary.
Either way, it's always a new and exciting experience.

The other thing that's funny is all the experiences you have that are similar or the same as ones you've already had but the context is so different that it feels like something all new. Like a shower... I'm sure you've taken many a shower, or rather, I hope you've taken many a shower. But after you come in from a month of nothing but bucket baths (or sometimes, when we have no water, a baby wipe bath) a shower is the most wonderful thing you've ever experienced. You disentangle yourself from the web of people that you've somehow wedged into a small van that masquerades as public transportation and walk through the massive crowds. You inevitably muscle away from a few moto drivers yelling at you and the taxi driver invasions that accompany your exit and make your way onto the dirty street. You climb onto yet another bus and sit and sweat as you wait for it to fill up. You finally disentangle yourself (and your bag) a second time and start the walk down to the magical land of other Americans and lazy TV time and SHOWERS! You strip the clothes that you've probably worn 3 or 4 times so as not to have to carry as much, or wash as much. And then there's running water, AND you can adjust the temperature with the turn of a handle! No boiling, no mixing with cold water until you hope there's enough to bathe with and also at the appropriate temperature. It's a beautiful thing and a wonderous feeling! And then you're clean! What an amazing invention!!
Today it's raining like crazy. I love it, it means a quiet day and awesome nap time. It's also a natural shower, but I'll wait for the delightfully warm unnatural variety.

the market...and friendly faces

For various reasons, it's my first full weekend at site in a bit and I'm quite excited for the slow pace. Somehow, this first trimester has already come and gone. We're already 1/4 of the way through this new year. As always, time is marching forward at a frightful pace. Unfortunately, for my current situation it still feels like it's stagnate. I'm still in the waiting and holding pattern I've been in for the past month, with no real idea when it will end. I suppose if I don't hear from Trinity in the next few weeks before the next trimester starts, I'll have to make my decision on imperfect information. At least now I'm okay with doing that.
On a brighter note, I love being at site through a weekend because it means I get to go to the market. It's funny because I have to prep myself and brace myself to go. I know there's gonna be double to triple the number of people running around town. They just come in for market day and they don't know me. They stare and call me muzungu. So I put up my guard for that. I've just embraced it as a part of my life. I don't like that I have to put up that guard, but it's makes the most sense. Otherwise, the laughing and pointing and staring does get to me. BUT the odd contrast is how much I love the other interactions I have at the market. I have my tomato lady and my pineapple lady and my Fanta dude. I have my Mama's in their shops for my other things. There's the one that I work with in the co-op who always throws in a couple of extra pieces of fruit even when I just come in to greet. These people don't know me per se, and you'll have to forgive me for not knowing their names, I feel like I'm at that awkward stage where it's too late to ask and everyone just calls everyone 'Mama' anyway. BUT they look at me with a face of recognition. They ask how my day is and always compliment me on my kinyarwanda. That look of recognition is huge when everyone is looking at you but doesn't know you. Back in the states, most of the time you don't look people you don't know in the eye and you try not to stare. That's not the case here, so when you get so many eyes looking at you, it's nice to see a friendly pair. It's nice to see a set that crinkles with a smile. They're not just looking at you, they're happy to see you.

Smiling...

This week has been a bit crazy with telling my old site I'm gonna leave and whatnot, but it's also been very gratifying and a great release. It's been nice to just get everything out there and let it all go. To take the weight off of my shoulders and say, "Hey, I appreciate all you've done for me and I care for you a lot, but it's just not working out." But don't worry, I told my old site, "I still wanna be friends!"
Then later this week, I responded to a call for volunteers to work with Operation Smile. For those who aren't int'l. dev. geeks, it's an organization operating in countries around the world to provide free surgeries for people (primarily children) with cleft lips and cleft palates. While many people may consider the surgery more cosmetic is amazing to see in a place like Rwanda how much the people afflicted with these sorts of maladies can be ostracized. There can also be various health problems associated with this affliction: breast feeding problems for infants, malnutrition for all, infectsion, etc. There are even women that have been left by their husbands and blamed for their child being born with a cleft lip or palate. The thing is, they don't even really know WHY the condition exists. In some areas it's more based on environmental factors. In certain regions in India, where they also send missions, tobacco use results in much higher rates, but in S. America, they've found it to be highly correlated with genetics than environmental factors. It's all very curious. BUT what is sure is the social effects of conditions like this are upsetting and easily remedied when people get the chance. The surgery for a cleft lip takes on average only about 45 minutes! 45 minutes could literally mean a different life for some children. Some children (though not many, luckily) are abandoned as a result. In short, I think that Operation Smile is doing great work... BUT there are some really huge realizations I've had from this experience.
One of them is not entirely new. My last post was a re-post on one of my friends reflections on the life of PCV and the life of the average Expat Aid Worker (EAW). While most was said in jest, this experience has reinforced a lot of the ideas that we joke about constantly. While volunteering with Op Smile, we had a lot of issues in our dealings with the other muzungus. Many things were just ignorance of the culture here. Things like dress code (there were KNEES and SHOULDERS everywhere!!) and eating/drinking in public were blatantly ignored even after we brought it up. Then there were so many logistical issues linked to working in Rwanda, that they didn't even begin to consider. It was very reassuring though because Peace Corps has proven to be a great start for a career in development because we did think about all those things, ways to avert problems and how to be sensitive to these people in Rwanda. We also saw how much it meant to these people to see us speaking in kinyarwanda and thinking about their needs. Granted, we've had the time to learn the language and the culture, but I do wish a BIT more effort had been made. They also have a lot of others concerns and demands on their time, but at least recognize that and put people in the planning process (like PCVs) to avert those problems. I STILL think they're a great organization that does great work but I think they could benefit from us PCVs a lot. I also think I'll totally be able to get a job after all this... so i got THAT going for me!

a beautiful thing

So, I'd like to shamelessly plug my fellow PCVs blog, and this post in particular, as it's terribly funny! It's also another view on our lives.

Stuff Peace Corps Workers Like

A whole new world...

So I went from one corner of Rwanda to the other this past weekend, quite literally over the river and through the woods. (Nyungwe Forest Nat'l. Park to be exact) From the far Northeast to the absolute Southwest. It was such a beautiful and refreshing change of pace...complete with view of Lake Kivu and the Congo. I don't know if it's the forbidden-ness of it all or all the potential for good work to do there, but the Congo is like Neverland. (possibly complete with a disappearance). But in all seriousness, I liked the possibility and promise of it all. Long story short, there is a possibility on the table now of moving sites to this land of green and hills. There is truly a lot of potential at this new site. The volunteer that has been there is truly amazing. She has laid a lot of amazing groundwork and built a lot of relationships in her two years here. It'd be difficult to fill her shoes, but I also think she has created a lot of opportunities for me to come in and do great things. I have to figure out though now if I'm ready to start all over. New community, new living situation, new work. After all this time, am I ready to jump in a health center? What could I do for them there? Would it be enough to fulfill me? Would it fill all the holes I've felt in the past 8 months?

Also for the moment, grad school is still an option. There are many options. I still have to get in but if I do, things will be trickier. I just have to figure out which option will do the most for me in the year. It's only one year but it's seeming like one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. I'm off now to brainstorm on how to navigate the meeting I'm having with my Peace Corps program manager to discuss this all.

investments...

Unfortunately, this post is not about hot tips from emerging African markets...but you probably figured I wouldn't have those in the first place.
No, this is about the (sometimes) far less lucrative investment of time in people and places. I have now invested almost 10 months in Rwanda and almost 8 months out East at my site. Sometimes I feel like this investment has returned dividends 10x what I put in. Sometimes I feel like I've lost my shirt. The most bizarre thing is that often, I'm not even sure of my investment. Do I measure it in time? In people left behind? In exertion of energy? In number of headaches? In moments of embarrassment? All of the above?
Then the question becomes how to measure the returns? When you're not dealing with money it's all obviously a lot more subjective. This all makes the question, "Is it worth it?" really, really tough to answer. Most of the time I just have to trust that my inner economist will stop me when I become irrational, when what I am getting back is less than what I'm putting into it.
It's weird too, I suppose, to be thinking of those sorts of things in my line of work. Isn't the whole point of leaving everything I left to be less selfish? Shouldn't I be worrying about what I am giving and not what I'm getting? The answer is, "yes." BUT, I guess through all of this I find I'm inching my way towards the 'No True Altruism' camp. Yes, I do want to spend my life helping people and investing my time and energy in that, BUT it's because that's what makes me happy. My joy comes from helping other people and seeing the benefits they get from my energy and work. I said it before that I think it takes all kinds and this is just my kind. This kind is still human. My ultimate goal in life is still to be happy. Again, how do you measure that happy? I guess we have to spend our whole life figuring that out and like most other things, it's just a little trickier to know here in Rwanda.

options...

Options seem like a great idea. But they get unsettling rather quickly when they become variables. Think about it, when making a decision it's nice to have a lot options so you can chose the one that is best for you...but it always becomes complicated and headache-inducing when all these unknown variables come into play. You have to make a best guess for what you think is the most likely outcome and base your decision on that. That's all just too uncertain for me, too many qualifiers.

That's life I guess, you only get to decide a few of your conditions, sometimes you get to set the things that matter most, as your absolutes; we all have those limits. But, what if they're only limits given the circumstances of your current situation? If this experience has taught me anything, it's that some things are way more negotiable then I ever thought they were and some things are way LESS negotiable than I hoped they would be. The most bizarre thing and easiest to think of (because of how superficial it is)...cafe culture. Who knew that this would become something I can't live without?? Now granted, I don't need a starbucks, I've created a culture (with the help of Danae) in tiny tea shops off dirt roads where they're milking the cow right then and then boiling it's milk over a fire. BUT it's a cafe nonetheless, after making some strategic alliances with cafe proprietors I can sit in there (relatively undisturbed) and sip my Nescafe and read my book...or talk for hours. Maybe my brain is only at optimal functioning over a cup of coffee or maybe it's the sounding board in the form of the friend across from me.
The other slightly less superficial is the necessity for other people in my life. Maybe I'm best with an audience (inherited from my mother), maybe it's because I was raised in a house of 6 and then moved into a quad dorm and then a co-op of 24... but regardless of the determining factor, I need people. I need someone to cook for and watch movies with. Living on my own is possible, but I just end up talking to myself a little too much.

This is all very theoretical and nebulous at the moment and not a great post after my two weeks absence, but something more interesting will undoubtedly be playing at soon, if not in the events of this weekend, than in the events of the next week. Stay tuned...

somebody to lean on...

So I'm sorry if my posts haven't been very uplifting lately. This journey isn't known as an emotional roller coaster for nothin'. I've had some bumps recently but I'm hoping things are starting to smooth out. I would thus like to expound on something about this experience that can't be overstated...My fellow volunteers are the most wonderful support I have, or any of us has. My parents have had an outstanding ability to listen to me whine and cry and blabber on joyfully about everything and my friends have been a constant source of encouragement at every point. But those two have also been huge pulls. In all of this, while here, while trying to work, you're constantly in the midst of a trans-continental tug of war. Now, I'm sure people aren't intentionally trying to push or pull, but it happens none the less. You talk to someone and even as they're telling you how proud and impressed they are, you're thinking how much you'd like to hear that face-to-face. How much nicer it'd be to be talking about these things over drinks or a cup of coffee. They unconsciously pull you back when they talk about their life, you think about what'd you be doing if you were there, where you'd be going, whom you'd be seeing, and even when they talk about their problems, you think about how once you too thought about those problems. I mean, where are the days when you'd wonder about when your phone contract would be up so you could upgrade or how you're going to possibly get all those papers done before your caffeine buzz runs out (esp. since Starbucks closes at 10). I don't mean to trivialize those things at all, they are our concerns and in the absence of such vital concerns as "will i eat today? will there be water tomorrow?" we look to the next set. I don't think there's anything wrong with looking at those problems, it's not our fault that our problems are less life and death. Even addressing the vital problems of people here can't be done by everyone and that's good, because it'd be a lot harder for me to get here and eventually, a job. Rest assured, I will not be attempting to steal anyone's position in accounting or engineering or nursing. I guess my point is, it takes all kinds. ALL KINDS.
And though I've strayed on a tangent, my original point is I miss those kinds of problems. I miss my old life and I got a glimpse of it when I came home, and that's been a huge part of why it's been so difficult for me recently. I tend to let my mind wander and it's been wandering away from this and being pulled back by the amazing people I left at home.
But I've luckily been pushed back by my amazing people here. My fellow volunteers remind me so much of my fellow Rotary exchange students. We are the only people who understand each other. Our daily struggles are the same with little deviation. I've found by reading other Peace Corps blogs, that many of these struggles even transcend the sector in which we work or the continents on which we live. We ask of ourselves and each other the same questions. And usually, while people back home can make you happy again, only the people here can make you sane again. People at home remind you of who you were but you wonder if that's no longer who you are. You start to question everything about yourself here and my fellow PCVs here remind me I'm not crazy, 'this is how things are', 'it's all part of the process', 'you're not a failure when things fall through'. They remind me to ease up on the guilt every time I'm away from my village. They remind me to ease up on guilt every time I feel I'm not doing enough. They remind me that today is just today and you never know what will happen tomorrow...and isn't it just as likely that tomorrow will be amazing? Isn't it just as likely that some part of tomorrow will remind me why I came here? Isn't it just as likely that tomorrow I'll wonder how I could ever leave? Those people have saved me so many times and I appreciate that more than they could ever know. We all have at least one person that has been our rock through this whole experience, so thanks, Danae thanks for listening and saving me time and time, again. I only hope to do the same every now and again.

complimentary!

Can censorship help heal Rwanda?

This is an article my friend David sent me that's quite interesting and touches on a lot of the same things I touched on in some of my recent posts. Thoughts??

Feb-bru-haha

I guess it's already February. Today, I have been in Rwanda 9 months. This is twice the amount of time I spent in Paris or Ireland and at this point in my time in Brazil, I was counting the days and prepping to head out and on to BU. But I certainly didn't feel the same way about that time as I have about this time and at this point.
It's been kinda a tough month. This week we'll have our third person leaving from my group. Technically, it'll be the fifth person but the first two left during training and these three have all gone in the past 5 weeks. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have also been in the midst of applying to a Master's in Development Practice program at Trinity College Dublin and University College Dublin. I found the program in a fit of unhappiness and free internet. It's pretty typical to periodically check some favorites and plan for the post-PC days. I'm not dead-set on anything, but I get accepted to this program it'll be hard to say NO. It's bizarrely well-suited for me and I'd love to go back to Ireland, especially if I can do it with Fed. student loans and for half the price of Grad school in the states.
I'm still actively trying to put things together here and working with our senior staff on things that I can do to work through the problems I have been having at site. I really do want to stay and I want to help and I want to work through all the bad to say that I did and made something great of it. It's hard not to think of leaving early as a failure when you commit to the two years...and at the outset, you can't possibly imagine leaving early. BUT...once that idea gets into your head and all the possibilities of what you could do with that year begin to surface....it's hard to move away from that. It's hard to try and make big plans when nothing in your life seems permanent. My housing is still in the process of being changed, my job description is still in flux, and even my rocks, the people (PCVs) around me that I have come to rely on so much, are falling away.

I've had to accept a few things recently:
1. I'm motivated by motivating other people and this is not the same as motivating myself.
2. I need other people by whom I'm challenged, intellectually stimulated and loved by in my life.
3. Neither of those things makes me a weak person.

great expectations and great injustices

So today my wonderful GLOW girl (the one I brought from my village to camp), who sought me out to learn English better and who I then privately tutored for a bit, and who also stole the show at GLOW because of her confidence and dynamism, came to me today. She came this morning to tell me she was going to check the exam results to find what Upper Secondary school she got into. (They have to have passed the test with a certain score to continue with S4, 5, 6, kinda like our high school). Now I'm not sure of all the particulars but I know that when she came to me this morning she was excited and full of hope and the girl that returned this afternoon was none of those things. She came back to tell me that she had not succeeded in securing a spot, but that she would try and get in touch with the Headmaster of the Teacher Training College because she had passed certain courses (but I guess not all of those necessary or not with high enough scores).
Otherwise, she can't continue school. HOW does that make sense? Maybe I'm missing some critical part of the equation, but shouldn't all those that WANT to continue school here get the opportunity to do so somewhere. Maybe it's the space, maybe it's the lack of teachers or funding to get them to these schools? Either way, I've been hit over the head with the reality of their situation. We take high school and many people even take college for granted. This girl, if she can't get the position at the Teacher Training school, if she's lucky, will go to work as a house girl for someone, or maybe be able to sell things at the market, or get a job in a shop. But in all likelihood, she'll just be stuck at home, taking care of her many younger siblings and waiting till she can get married or she won't and will start having children that she's too young and poor to care for. How can you break the cycle of this until everyone has the chance to break it for themselves?
What's the point in enabling these girls to make their own choices or learn about career planning or goal setting when they're robbed of those choices by their circumstances?
I can't stand this and the worst part of it is, I don't know what I can do about it at this point. If I could buy her way into a school I would, but I'm not even sure that's possible.
What's the point of being here if I can't even give this bright, amazing girl a chance at a future?

"Post-Conflict"

So this past weekend and through the next week Peace Corps Rwanda is undergoing a review of its programs. I think it's a really positive thing because they are trying to address problems with the programs and encourage the stuff that's working on a more institutional level. I was a participant in one of the focus groups on "Working as a PCV in a 'post-conflict' country" (the others included: PCV leaders, Health, & Education).
It was a really cathartic discussion. First and foremost, because we were able to really honestly talk about things that we don't address that often. For obvious reasons, the 1994 Genocide is a rather sensitive topic here. We don't ask people in our communities anything that could be even remotely connected to those sorts of things. There are all sorts of gov't. restrictions on the things you can say and especially as concerns identification of one ethnic group or another. I'm not sure how you all feel about that sort of policy, but we're not allowed to really address it. Frankly, most of the time, for the sake of our sanity we want to leave things as they are. You catch snippets of talk and some people proffer their stories of that time with no word from us. They come at unusual times, which isn't that rare for such traumas. BUT, that means they blindside you. And it leads to some curious difficulties in small talk. It's hard to get to know someone when you don't want to ask about their family for fear of what that could potentially trigger. They typically phrase the first question about my family as "Do you still have both your parents?" and then continue to ask about siblings. People will mention, "Yes, I was once one of 11, now we are 9 because of the Genocide" (or often, "because of the war").
In addition, every year starting April 7th there is a Memorial Week (or really period of 3 months) that ends on July 4th, their Liberation Day. Throughout that time, there are memorials and ceremonies and marches and visits to various memorial sites throughout the country. We arrived in the country after the biggest part of these ceremonies, but we did experience one such ceremony in our training community. We were brought to a ceremony that we were told was a "Memorial"('with singing and some speeches') The critical part of that description left out of that it was also a 'Reburial ceremony'...
Now here's where it gets even more complicated. We were really uncomfortable at this. We felt we had no right to be there, what did we know of it all? How could we possibly relate? How could we sympathize or comfort even? Wasn't it bad that they were distracted from the ceremony by the herd of Americans walking around?
So we felt guilty for being there. We feel guilty that we can't relate. We feel guilty when we want to avoid the trauma or pain of even these events because how does that even begin to compare? One volunteer was told once, "It's interesting that all the muzunugus leave during April because that's what they did when it all happened in the first place."
How do you respond to that? But then, how can someone from our (more likely than not) relatively sheltered existence be present at these events without being overwhelmed by it all.
It's something we may not struggle with on a daily basis, but these things are in the back of our minds and simmering below the surface of interactions in our communities.
I'm not entirely comfortable about even putting this all up here but I feel like you should know. I think you couldn't imagine reconciling the picture you have of Rwanda in your head from Heart of Darkness or Hotel Rwanda with the Rwanda that I've described before this post. If you knew nothing of Rwanda's history and came here today, I think it would be very difficult to imagine anything like that had ever happened here. But, it did and we can't change that it did. But knowing that certainly makes the utterly common site of a boy kicking a ball while holding a machete more uncomfortable. As volunteers though, we're constantly asking ourselves to look past that to do our work and work with everyone...but how do you disassociate like that? The better question I find myself asking is...how do they? Do they?
OR are they just putting on the Rwandan neutral face to get through today next to someone who may have killed their whole family. Just trying to move from yesterday to tomorrow.


If you're curious,these are several good books, (that I've read personally) that you can read on this topic and the path the country has taken since then:
We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families:Stories from Rwanda by Phillip Gourevitch
Machete Season:The Killers in Rwanda Speak by Jean Hatzfeld (**I've also heard great things about Jean Hatzfeld's other two books but have yet to read them*)
Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda by Romeo Dallaire
A Thousand Hills:Rwanda's Rebirth and the Man Who Dreamed It by Stephen Kinzer
Remaking Rwanda: State Building and Human Rights after Mass Violence by Scott Straus & Lars Waldorf

fake it 'til you make it.....

So as with all things Peace Corps, my feelings yesterday are drastically different from my feelings today. That fact, in and of itself might help explain the difficulty in understanding your surroundings when the most solid thing you've known (namely, yourself) is suddenly foreign to you...Especially when you've made it a point to try to know and understand your feelings, this is all very disorienting. You have no idea if today will feel like you've conquered the world or it's conquered you. And surprisingly little of that is based on what has happened that day.

Anywho, yesterday I spent time with my wonderful friend Markey and had beautiful moments eating her wonderful cooking, playing with her adorable neighborhood children and visiting my dear friends that she introduced me to. We spent a lot of time talking about my job crisis and inner turmoil as a result. At the end of it all, she had so many great suggestions for me. I felt though, that I didn't have the energy or will to implement them. I don't like that feeling. I'm a "can do" not a "can...don't?"
Today though, I've had a small renewal of strength. Mass was just as exhausting, but then after having the briefest of conversations with one of my housemates, I felt like, "hey. i should keep this up." I've been not wanting to just go through the motions of doing the things I need to, but maybe that's what I need for a little while. Maybe what I need is just to "fake it til I make it" and not base my entire self-worth on every interaction. So I'm adopting that and it's going well. I'm also pushing myself to just try projects bit by bit. I taught my kids a song about handwashing today that includes all the times they're supposed to be doing it. Now I just have to get the other teachers on board so they actually make it possible for the kids to do this. As always, the more difficult part is the latter. So we'll see. But I had fun walking down to town and chatting with people as I did, and not caring about the rest or the stares. It was a nice change of pace. So I'll keep on that and make this New Year (the Lunar New Year) my real fresh start. So yay!

puzzles are puzzling

So I guess life is always like a puzzle. There are always all these different pieces that you're trying to find to put together to create your life. You have to figure out a way to make the "work" piece and the "fun" piece mix with the "people" pieces and somehow make all of those be something that makes sense to you and something you're happy and proud to show off as "My Life."

But now imagine you can't see the edges of the pieces...what if they were blurry, what if you didn't know where one ended and the other began? And then what if you couldn't see the picture. What if you weren't sure what it was all supposed to look like at the end? Granted, most of us don't know what the finished product will be and granted, that changes pretty often. BUT there are some things that are certain. It's as if our personality and understanding of ourselves create the outline, the edge pieces.
Here, I feel like all my edge pieces have lost their edge.

The Peace Corps is difficult, but not in the ways you originally anticipate. It's the constant scrutiny and the isolation that get to you. You feel like no one wants to get to know you for you. They don't wanna know you because they think you might be an interesting person, but because you could be a ticket to America, or a funding opportunity here. NOW, this is obviously not true of everyone, but is most often true of the people that seek you out to get to know you. And to most others...you're an oddity. An attraction to stare at because you MUST be about to do something un-human. And your feelings on that don't really matter, aren't something valid because you're not in their frame of reference.
I'm sorry if this is whiny or not happy but it's just kind of how I've been feeling the past week or so.
There are still bright moments, like the smile of an old woman when we share "amahoro" (peace) at mass. Or my little babies at the preschool singing and dancing in front of the class, or playing with the little babies near my friend's place and then having them cuddle up to me as they tire out...but those are seeming more like the exception than the real. I'm working really hard to take more of the positive from every moment. Truly. I guess I just gotta keep that up and make it dominate. I guess it's that attitude that will have to be my puzzle glue to keep me together...I just have to make sure it's glue rather than the fist just trying to smash pieces to make them fit.

Pictures!

SO, because getting out my camera is either a dangerous feat or I'm too busy doing instead of taking pictures, I've found some wonderful pictures on my friend's blog that give you a great idea of our girls' empowerment camp, Camp GLOW! I will try to continue and steal other people's pictures to give you an idea of things when I either can't or am too lazy!

http://confessionsofatraveloholic.blogspot.com/2011/12/photos-from-camp-glow-eastern-province.html

a review...

So we're two weeks into the new year, 2012. Absolutely unbelievable...but, I'll save my incredulous comments on the passage of time for another post or a contemplative Saturday with not much else to do but talk to myself.
I got back to site on Wednesday, back into Rwanda on Saturday, but wanted a day to recover and then got a nasty virus that knocked me off my feet for effectively the whole week. As a result, yesterday was my first real foray back into my PCV life (don't think knocking out two books and sleeping at odd hours while trying to recover counts).
Not gonna lie, it's been a bit rough. Before Christmas, as much as I was missing home, all the physical comforts, food options, family and friends were less of a reality to me. There were 8 months of Rwanda blocking all those memories. It's like my senses had forgotten what all of those things were like. My life was what was in front of me. I understood squeezie buses and screaming children and beautiful hills and constant stares and unlimited avocados. I'd hear about things like cozy coffee shops and movie theaters and fireside days avoiding winter weather, but they weren't real to me anymore. I'm not sure how much of that was a lack of imagination or just the immediacy with which all the things around me press in on my consciousness. The things around me are so much to take in that all my energy and thoughts are consumed with their absorption and processing. BUT then...i went home.
And it was the most wonderful thing. I've never appreciated everyone and everything as much as I did in those 13 days. I ate sushi and bbq. I spent days on end curled up with my sisters and family on big comfy couches in front of fires and netflix! I got to see SO many of my best friends. It was perfection. And then I came back.
I had a bit of a transitional period in Kigali with hot showers and some other lovely PCVs and now I'm back to site.
It's been surprisingly easy to just go back to using a pit latrine and showering less often. I have some small wonderful American comfort foods to ease me back into the transition. BUT the people, it's been hard for me to find the energy to brave all my neighbors and their bizarre "Welcome Back"s. Yesterday, I was scolded for something I didn't know was wrong. One of my neighbors asked me, "Why didn't you tell me you were going home to your parents?" I didn't know quite how to say I thought it was implied when I said I was going back to America to visit my family for the holidays. So I simply made a non-committal but Rwandan appropriate noise. At this he asked, "Why didn't you tell me so I could send my greetings?"
I understood the question but didn't really understand why he would be asking that so I gave the Rwandan equivalent of "huh?" so he started speaking in French. I had actually translated the question well and now had the confirmation that this was in fact, what he was asking and I hadn't misunderstood. I replied that it was okay because I had sent them his greetings anyway.
I wasn't prepped for those sorts of questions. The return to kinyarwanda wasn't that difficult as I had spent so much of my time at home thinking it, or saying "ntakibazo" to blank stares. But it's also the pressure of all those interactions. I'm back to knowing everything I do is judged and directly impacts what I can do here in terms of work. But i've been dealing with that for the last 8 months so I'm ready to dig back in, I guess.
BUT it's the work itself that has been the scariest obstacle to me. This is a new feeling for me. I very rarely feel like I don't know where to go or what to do in my work. I'm usually 3 steps ahead and when I'm not, I'm sure that I can simply figure it out. I'll find a way to do it. It's a lot harder to tell myself that here. I had a meeting Thursday with my Assistant Program Manager. He was primarily there to discuss my housing situation (which has predictably seen no changes in the last 3 weeks). But then he also wanted to chat with me on my social and professional integration. NOW, in terms of my social integration, I wasn't real worried. Most of the people, even in my slightly larger town knew who I was and at least 1 other random fact about me. I knew this because when I walk around I hear behind me ("She's American" or "She teaches at the preschool" or "she likes kids" or "she speaks kinyarwanda"). This fact, combined with my great triumph of having more people call me by my name instead of "muzungu" the last time I went to the market, makes me feel pretty comfortable about my community integration.
Now professional integration....was it a bad sign when I wasn't even sure what that meant here? Things that have helped keep me from feeling like a total failure have included getting my kids to say "please/ thank you," all the amazing notes from my girls at Camp GLOW from the affirmation wall, and the joy my cooperative women get in calling me their "co-worker." Those things help, but overall, being a 'big-picture' person it's difficult to feel as satisfied as I'd really like to by them. I don't know how to satisfy myself with small things. Any ideas? It's weird cause I LOVE the little pleasures of life. I can make myself happy with ANYTHING...why can't it translate?
I developed a list of "Work that I CAN DO" for myself and will work my way down that with giant shiny check marks and hopefully in the midst of all that, stumble onto something or a conglomeration of things that make this feel like a job where I am on top of it.

and all that jazz...

So America is great. and completely overwhelming. Choices for dinner, choices for shows, choices for movies, choices for your coffee. At lunch with my grandparents I had 6, count 'em 6! different choices for my pulled chicken sandwich. ( I tackled this particular problem by using 3 different ones together.)
This has been my basic overall strategy to try and wrap my head around all the choices we have here. Avoid making choices and have a bit of everything. It's been pretty effective minus the occasional stomach ache as a result of embracing too many options, particularly at meal times. But it's been amazing. I love choices. Variety is the spice and I think in my next year now that I'm comfy with the basics that I'm gonna try and find the variety I know is present even in tiny Rwanda.
Now that I'm on my way out, I know I'm gonna miss the flush toilets and the hot showers and listening to my music and dancing and singing in the shower...BUT mostly I'm gonna miss all the amazing people in my life. There's a lot of them and I've come to value them so much for all the support they've given me over the past 8 months and especially in my time at home. They are such a source of joy and inspiration. They keep me going for so many reasons and in so many ways. They're even better than a hot shower and indoor plumbing.