I received my placement! I’m placed in the Southern province in the Kamonyi district, which is quite close to Kigali. I will visit my site next week for the first time. I am placed with a faith based organization whose acronym is EPR. I am researching more but basically they are funded by USAID and are operated under the umbrella organization of Catholic Health Services International. I will have a current PC health volunteer in the area so I’m hoping it helps my transition.
In terms of my mailing address, I will be so close to Kigali - where the PC PO box is -that I will just keep that as my mailing address.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Christine
I thought of Christine today. The one who didn’t get enough time, who didn’t get to live out her dreams, who never got to go to college. Christine died shortly after her high school graduation. She was the valedictorian but couldn’t give her graduation speech because she was in the hospital. She never enjoyed her full ride scholarship because she didn’t live to see the fall. Christine was a wonderful person, sarcastic and witty – a perfect match for my love to laugh. We would banter back and forth while being the backstage tech geeks that we were. When she announced her diagnosis at the beginning of her senior year I didn’t have a thought of her not beating the leukemia.
I remember sitting at Ms. Moscotta’s funeral in February and it having an ominous feeling. What if this is foreshadowing Christine’s similar fight with cancer? What if Christine senses defeat? What if the end is near?
By July her pain was over and my juvenile sense of immortality had come crashing down. Life was not a given. Chances and opportunities were not to be tossed away, assuming more would present themselves. In the most Hallmark sense of the word, this is where my inspiration began. I had lost two phenomenal women in the span of months. I needed to live for them. Christine never got to attend college, but I did. Christine never got to pursue her passion, but I do. Christine never go to travel around the world, but I am.
Fear and doubt aren’t options when life is passing you by. Wake up and act like it’s your last chance, then see what you achieve in a day.
I’ve had people (I won’t name names) emailing me, referring to how inconsequential their life in the US is. Sure life in Africa seems much more dramatic and monumental, but I scoff at any of you at home who are undermining your own importance.
This isn’t a trial run at life. This is a one round kind of game (depending on your beliefs). The power we hold just by being American is astounding and frightening. I am reminded this every time I am asked for money because of the color of my skin and the passport I carry. Not only can we do great things, we can do small things that are life altering, awe inspiring, love creating.
This is my public service announcement to take one minute to reflect on life -the balance of insignificance to and yet awesome power we hold. In the words of a great song – Get up offa that ass.
RIP to all of those who died too young yet inspired us to do better, reach further, and love fuller.
I remember sitting at Ms. Moscotta’s funeral in February and it having an ominous feeling. What if this is foreshadowing Christine’s similar fight with cancer? What if Christine senses defeat? What if the end is near?
By July her pain was over and my juvenile sense of immortality had come crashing down. Life was not a given. Chances and opportunities were not to be tossed away, assuming more would present themselves. In the most Hallmark sense of the word, this is where my inspiration began. I had lost two phenomenal women in the span of months. I needed to live for them. Christine never got to attend college, but I did. Christine never got to pursue her passion, but I do. Christine never go to travel around the world, but I am.
Fear and doubt aren’t options when life is passing you by. Wake up and act like it’s your last chance, then see what you achieve in a day.
I’ve had people (I won’t name names) emailing me, referring to how inconsequential their life in the US is. Sure life in Africa seems much more dramatic and monumental, but I scoff at any of you at home who are undermining your own importance.
This isn’t a trial run at life. This is a one round kind of game (depending on your beliefs). The power we hold just by being American is astounding and frightening. I am reminded this every time I am asked for money because of the color of my skin and the passport I carry. Not only can we do great things, we can do small things that are life altering, awe inspiring, love creating.
This is my public service announcement to take one minute to reflect on life -the balance of insignificance to and yet awesome power we hold. In the words of a great song – Get up offa that ass.
RIP to all of those who died too young yet inspired us to do better, reach further, and love fuller.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Wake Up Farmers!
I met with a group of farmers a couple days ago. They were joined together to form a savings and loan group. They have been operating since December 2008 under the name ‘Wake Up Farmers”. They are all HIV positive. Savings and loan groups are part of current Peace Corps projects. Saving money is being encouraged in many places as a way for people to pull themselves from poverty. Because banks can be very far way and require fees, many small, local groups are being formed. There are procedures, rules, member lists, ledgers, a money box. They agree to meet weekly, biweekly, or monthly and always put in the same amount of money. For example a group could agree to save 500 francs every other week. Each member must attend every meeting and give their savings. The collection of money serves as a reserve for any of them to take a loan out of. They also choose which loans they’d like to give, the amount of time they have to pay it back, and the standard interest rate. The interest is also placed into the pot, allowing accumulation of funds. At the end of the cycle, generally one year, the money can be split evenly among the members. So they are gaining the structure of constantly saving a consistent amount of money plus the interest they accrued. Sometimes if groups save a large amount of money they open a group account at a bank so it can be stored safely.
Wake Up Farmers is not just a group of financial partners, they are also friends. They own a plot of land that was given to them by the government. Every week they meet to farm together. There is a small fund of money that is used for emergency funds. For instance if there is a death and funeral expenses need to be covered or if a member is sick and others would like to visit and bring them food. The social fund money can be used without being paid back, allowing a safety net for life’s surprises.
I was thoroughly impressed with the group. They understood the power they had to help themselves and we excited about future trainings they could receive to learn more. This is an amazing culture shift that I believe is rare. The significant presence of NGOs (non-government-organizations) in this country who provide handouts have created a dependency. Again the basic concept is very similar to the US. It is exciting to see a group of people embrace their future, no matter how precarious. It was a my first professional contact with the community and I love it!
Same problems, Different Country
The trials of a family know no borders. Human emotion is the one thing that unites us all. Unfortunately I have had to witness the current trials of my resource family. About a week ago I went to visit. It was a happy time because my mother and father were both home. My resource dad works in Kigali – about 2 hours away. He lives there during the weekdays and lives at home on the weekends. It’s always a happier time when the whole family is complete. It was time for him to leave though we escorted him to the edge of the neighborhood to bid adieu, wife, 4 children and strange foreigner in tow. We said goodbye and he kissed all his children goodbye. Once we reentered the house, my resource mom went to find her cell phone. (*Almost every family here has one communal cell phone and no land line. Most have trouble keeping their cell phone charged consistently because electricity going off and on or no electricity at all.) After a few minutes my resource mom came back into the living room with a distressed look on her face. In our limited common language she explained that her live in nanny-housekeeper-cook was leaving. I assumed she was leaving for the night but quickly realized she meant forever. Here was now a mother who works five days a week as a school teacher from early in the morning until 5pm who had to worry about having no help. Her husband had just left for the next five days. Her children range from 9 years old to 2 years old. Her level of stress had just elevated exponentially. But Violette didn’t lose her calm. She asked if I had any more language questions to go over – as if that’s what she wanted to deal with right then. I asked a couple quick questions and then made my exit. As I was leaving the housekeeper came bolting out of the house after me. She was carrying her one small bag of possessions. Her mood was elated. She had the exact look of being very excited about her future but also having a degree of uncertainty and fear – basically just excited to jump off the cliff and figure out her future. We walked out the neighborhood together, completely unable to communicate except for exchanging our names. I felt mixed emotions after witnessing the stress of my resource mom in direct comparison to the joy of the leaving housekeeper.
I have visited twice since then. Last weekend, my resource father’s mom and sister (both also teachers) were there to help with the children and the cooking. They both had to leave eventually to catch up on their own lives. This once again left my resource mom alone. Her three youngest children have been left at home to fend for themselves during the weekdays. I’ve heard this isn’t completely uncommon here. There is generally a neighbor who will check in on them. Violette has seemed much more on edge. Whenever I am there to visit there she is always rushing around doing laundry and cooking. Her husband helps when he can but he if often gone, making the majority of the money for the family.
The tone of visits has certainly changed. She no longer urges me to stay for hours. She has so much to do that I am definitely impeding on her productivity, although she would never say that to me. The last visit she even hinted that she had to bathe the kids and get dinner cooking. I made the door fairly quickly feeling the pain of the situation. Every time I come now the second thing out of her mouth is how she hasn’t found a replacement yet and she has many problems. I wish I could help but I’m quite useless with the practical skills here considering I don’t know the proper method of washing clothes by hand or cooking on a wood stove. Even the garden is a mystery to me. Most families here have some semblance to a personal garden, on top of farming plots of land. My family has quite the selection of ingredients – tomatoes, sugar cane, sage, onions, cabbage, three varieties of lettuce, a banana tree, plus many others I can’t remember. Their backyard is a fairly average size backyard in American suburb terms.
To bring it all back around, I was supposed to have my standard Sunday visit with my family today. I was going to arrive much earlier than I usually do so that I could have cooking lessons from Violette. The visit was cancelled though. I am selfishly elated. This is the very first day since I’ve been in Rwanda where I have absolutely nothing to do! I am relaxing to the max. Sleeping in seems to be out of the question though. Every day my house wakes up around 6am and is at breakfast at 7am, classes begin at 8am. We are not able to come home after dinner until 8pm. Even on our glorious Sundays we generally all wake up before 7am. I’m still enjoying every second of this day – awake or not.
Last night we had a wonderful celebration of St. Patty’s Day and all our March birthdays. Rwandans and our small group of Americans love to dance so we tore up the dance floor. Our curfew is 10pm so by 9:45 we were at home. Luckily our foyer is a great mini dance floor. We continued our celebration and had some wonderful cross cultural dance lessons. Rwandan dancing is a bit like Caribbean and the hula. When an American song would come on that we didn’t know how to dance to, the Rwandan moves would come out. We have a couple of past dance instructors in the house. The cha-cha lessons are pretty entertaining to watch!
I have visited twice since then. Last weekend, my resource father’s mom and sister (both also teachers) were there to help with the children and the cooking. They both had to leave eventually to catch up on their own lives. This once again left my resource mom alone. Her three youngest children have been left at home to fend for themselves during the weekdays. I’ve heard this isn’t completely uncommon here. There is generally a neighbor who will check in on them. Violette has seemed much more on edge. Whenever I am there to visit there she is always rushing around doing laundry and cooking. Her husband helps when he can but he if often gone, making the majority of the money for the family.
The tone of visits has certainly changed. She no longer urges me to stay for hours. She has so much to do that I am definitely impeding on her productivity, although she would never say that to me. The last visit she even hinted that she had to bathe the kids and get dinner cooking. I made the door fairly quickly feeling the pain of the situation. Every time I come now the second thing out of her mouth is how she hasn’t found a replacement yet and she has many problems. I wish I could help but I’m quite useless with the practical skills here considering I don’t know the proper method of washing clothes by hand or cooking on a wood stove. Even the garden is a mystery to me. Most families here have some semblance to a personal garden, on top of farming plots of land. My family has quite the selection of ingredients – tomatoes, sugar cane, sage, onions, cabbage, three varieties of lettuce, a banana tree, plus many others I can’t remember. Their backyard is a fairly average size backyard in American suburb terms.
To bring it all back around, I was supposed to have my standard Sunday visit with my family today. I was going to arrive much earlier than I usually do so that I could have cooking lessons from Violette. The visit was cancelled though. I am selfishly elated. This is the very first day since I’ve been in Rwanda where I have absolutely nothing to do! I am relaxing to the max. Sleeping in seems to be out of the question though. Every day my house wakes up around 6am and is at breakfast at 7am, classes begin at 8am. We are not able to come home after dinner until 8pm. Even on our glorious Sundays we generally all wake up before 7am. I’m still enjoying every second of this day – awake or not.
Last night we had a wonderful celebration of St. Patty’s Day and all our March birthdays. Rwandans and our small group of Americans love to dance so we tore up the dance floor. Our curfew is 10pm so by 9:45 we were at home. Luckily our foyer is a great mini dance floor. We continued our celebration and had some wonderful cross cultural dance lessons. Rwandan dancing is a bit like Caribbean and the hula. When an American song would come on that we didn’t know how to dance to, the Rwandan moves would come out. We have a couple of past dance instructors in the house. The cha-cha lessons are pretty entertaining to watch!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Honeymooning
The past two weeks in Rwanda have been wonderful. The people are great, the scenery is gorgeous, the language isn’t too frustrating. I’m fully aware of the magic of the first few weeks. Every experience has that exhilarating beginning. Everything is wonderful, because everything is new and exciting. The complaining hasn’t begun. Our humor is still intact. I’m sure the next few months will wear us down. The challenges will be many and we will get sick of each other. But for now, at this very moment, I am incredibly happy. The adventure has begun! There is not a doubt in my mind that I have made the right decision to come here. Now that it’s begun I am focused on lasting 2 years.
International Women's Day
The idea of celebrating the strength, compassion and intelligence of women – what a phenomenal idea. In the United States we have Mother’s Day, but not much else that makes us stop, take time and appreciate. It turns out there is an International Women’s Day. Many countries celebrate it, including Rwanda. It occurred a few days ago. There is no work and no school in Rwanda so the whole country and celebrate. Each sector, similar to our version of a county or town, has it’s own ceremonies. We attended one in the soccer stadium near our training center. There was traditional dancing, singing, and speeches. All the heads of the community were there. A couple women told stories about abusive husbands or people in their lives who made them feel inferior. They stressed equality and the importance of education, noting that the highest science score among secondary students was from a female.
Prior to the ceremony was one of the best experiences I’ve had here. We were waiting in the bleachers along with a few schools of children. They were all secondary school children at the time who had arrived early for the celebration. They were in their school uniforms although they didn’t have class that day. The town I am living in is packed with schools. There are many public but most are private, Catholic schools. All school children wear uniforms, even public. The youth were singing songs and chanting words that I couldn’t understand. It was later explained to me that they were songs from a training that all children in Rwanda must attend. For about a month each year, all the children in the country attend a training. They discuss equality and tolerance. They learn songs about inclusion and acceptance. Throughout the year they often repeat them, similar to how a high school student section would cheer at a football game. As they were singing, some were also dancing on the field – coordinated group dances. After we watched them, they eventually came to our section of bleachers and invited us to join them. We all flooded onto the field and mimicked their dance moves. It was the equivalent of a conga line plus the tunnel of people (when some people stand clapping overhead and the others run underneath) plus some traditional dance moves which have the relaxed flow of Caribbean music. It was exhilarating. Even though none of us shared a common language, we could dance together. We eventually returned to our seats, exhausted. I don’t know where they found the energy to keep dancing most of the day.
So in honor of International Women’s Day I’d like to thank all the amazing women in my life. I have been raised by courageous, strong women. I was then blessed to go to an all girl high school. I worked in a ridiculously supportive workplace, composed of many wonderful women. I volunteered at Ele’s Place, whose staff is almost entirely female. I am now in a group of independent, resilient Peace Corps female trainees. Thank you to all you superwomen. You teach compassion, respect and integrity through the everyday actions that seem redundant and unappreciated. Thank goodness for women!
Prior to the ceremony was one of the best experiences I’ve had here. We were waiting in the bleachers along with a few schools of children. They were all secondary school children at the time who had arrived early for the celebration. They were in their school uniforms although they didn’t have class that day. The town I am living in is packed with schools. There are many public but most are private, Catholic schools. All school children wear uniforms, even public. The youth were singing songs and chanting words that I couldn’t understand. It was later explained to me that they were songs from a training that all children in Rwanda must attend. For about a month each year, all the children in the country attend a training. They discuss equality and tolerance. They learn songs about inclusion and acceptance. Throughout the year they often repeat them, similar to how a high school student section would cheer at a football game. As they were singing, some were also dancing on the field – coordinated group dances. After we watched them, they eventually came to our section of bleachers and invited us to join them. We all flooded onto the field and mimicked their dance moves. It was the equivalent of a conga line plus the tunnel of people (when some people stand clapping overhead and the others run underneath) plus some traditional dance moves which have the relaxed flow of Caribbean music. It was exhilarating. Even though none of us shared a common language, we could dance together. We eventually returned to our seats, exhausted. I don’t know where they found the energy to keep dancing most of the day.
So in honor of International Women’s Day I’d like to thank all the amazing women in my life. I have been raised by courageous, strong women. I was then blessed to go to an all girl high school. I worked in a ridiculously supportive workplace, composed of many wonderful women. I volunteered at Ele’s Place, whose staff is almost entirely female. I am now in a group of independent, resilient Peace Corps female trainees. Thank you to all you superwomen. You teach compassion, respect and integrity through the everyday actions that seem redundant and unappreciated. Thank goodness for women!
Grenades in Kigali
There was recently three grenades thrown in the capital city, Kigali. It took place at the same day, the same time of day in two different parts of the city. Two people were killed and around 18 were injured. Starting in February, the genocide commemorative events begin. They last through April. We have been told that there is generally one retaliatory act of violence each year within this time span. Personally, I am safe and I feel incredibly protected. In terms of the country, it is salt in a wound. They have taken great measures to acknowledge their history and fight to never repeat it.
Before leaving Kigali, we visited the genocide memorial museum. It is the gravesite of over 250,000 Rwandans. It also serves as an educational tool to explain the complete history of Rwanda, including personal stories around the genocide, and the aftermath. To call it powerful would be an understatement. It also tells the story of other genocides throughout history, the immediate repercussions and the continuing repercussions. The museum works with schools throughout the country to educate children on tolerance and equality.
Being in Rwanda adds a layer of complexity to serving in the Peace Corps. Although most of the stories are silent, the history has created the present. A vast majority of Rwandans suffer post-traumatic-stress-disorder. Everyone has a story of where they were in 1994. Although my experiences with Rwandans have been incredibly friendly, they as a whole are a reserved country. Topics such as these should not be asked about directly and if they are discussed should be treated with great care. I feel honored to be in this country as they build their future. There is an incredible sense of hope here.
Before leaving Kigali, we visited the genocide memorial museum. It is the gravesite of over 250,000 Rwandans. It also serves as an educational tool to explain the complete history of Rwanda, including personal stories around the genocide, and the aftermath. To call it powerful would be an understatement. It also tells the story of other genocides throughout history, the immediate repercussions and the continuing repercussions. The museum works with schools throughout the country to educate children on tolerance and equality.
Being in Rwanda adds a layer of complexity to serving in the Peace Corps. Although most of the stories are silent, the history has created the present. A vast majority of Rwandans suffer post-traumatic-stress-disorder. Everyone has a story of where they were in 1994. Although my experiences with Rwandans have been incredibly friendly, they as a whole are a reserved country. Topics such as these should not be asked about directly and if they are discussed should be treated with great care. I feel honored to be in this country as they build their future. There is an incredible sense of hope here.
Chuck Norris
I met Chuck Norris two days ago. I must begin at the beginning. A group of young Americans are quite a spectacle in Rwanda. We have been trying to come up with comparisons for others to understand the fascination people have for us. It would be a mix of the circus coming to town and talking horses moving in next door. Everything we say and do is interesting. People like to follow us, shake our hand, say hello. They have seen very few Westerners so they call us umuzungu meaning foreigners. It is sometimes coupled with the idea that we are rich and can give them money. Adults understand this is a rude term to shout but most of the children haven’t been told this. We get yelled umuzungu or abazungu meaning multiple Westerners, on a daily or really hourly basis. We try to introduce ourselves and speak to them in Kinyarwanda so they understand we are individuals not just ‘white people’ – especially since not all of us are Caucasian.
The house I live in is a beautiful 20 minute walk from where meals are held and classes are taught. As we walk back and forth, we greet nearly every person since that is customary here. The Rwandan educational system recently changed their language policy. They used to teach French as a mandatory second language in school. Just this year it was changed to English. There are many children that like to practice their English greetings. They know about as much English as we know Kinyarwanda so our usual exchange is –Good Morning! How are you? I am good, how are you? Good. What is your name? My name is…. At this point we have nothing left to say to each other in a common language so we go our separate ways. Many of the children like to shake your hand if you let them and are excited to share just those few sentences with you. There is not the practice of being afraid of strangers, although some still have shy personalities. Children are still children, they just tend to be more autonomous and social in Rwandan culture.
A couple afternoons ago, a fellow trainee Ryan and I were walking to the internet café during our lunch break. As usual we talked to all the children on the way because they were also on their lunch break from school. An exuberant little boy asked my name and I replied ‘Nitwa Kimberly. Muri bande?’. I expected to hear a French name because many, many Rwandans have French names. Instead he replied Chuck Norris. At this point we had already been walking in separate directions but I almost fell on the ground laughing. Chuck Norris was very proud of his comic skills and was roaring with laughter too. No matter how depressing the history and circumstances of this country may be, the children always make me smile each and every day. I have since also met Obama and another Chuck Norris. I hope to meet many more.
On a different note, I’d like to introduce my resource family. My pre-service training is somewhat different than most trainee groups. In some countries trainees live with host families. It helps immerse them into the language, culture and community. Because we are only the third group of volunteers in Rwanda since 1994, the foundation of host families has not been created yet. Instead the Peace Corps houses us together in four different locations with our language teachers. We are given a resource family which we visit about three times a week. We practice our language skills, learn about them and are just generally cared for. It can be an awkward situation, often coupled with confusion for weeks until we can hold a conversation above a 2-year-old level. I am very blessed to have a wonderful resource family. My resource mom, Violette, is a primary school teacher. She knows Kinyarwanda, French and a little English. It is wonderful mother and a very patient teacher. She has been helping me with my French and Kinyarwanda. She has 4 children, ages 9-2. I will not attempt to write their names now because I will butcher the spelling. I was able to meet her husband today. He works in the capital, Kigali, so he is only home on weekends. This situation is somewhat common, as it also is in the US right now with the recession happening. He comes home Friday night and leaves Sunday night. I was a little nervous to meet him but he is very kind and caring.
Being in their home and watching them interact with their children reminds me of home. The children must wash their faces and hands before Violette lets them greet me. The littlest girl often wants to hold my skirt and be by my side if she is not sharing food with her mom. The eldest daughter is a little mother to the rest of the siblings, very much reminding me of my eldest sister. The rolling eyes when she has to take care of her goofy siblings and her natural maturity and responsibility is identical. They always serve me tea with milk and sugar. Today I was also given passion fruit and what they call tree tomatoes. Tree tomatoes are about the same size as passion fruit. They are hard to describe but you eat the seeds in the middle. They are mix of the bitterness of pomegranate and sweetness of a tomato. They asked which I liked better (passion fruit for sure) and then forced me to take the remaining five and put them in my bag for later. Visiting them reminds me of visiting a grandma or great aunts and uncles. They will not let you leave before eating something. You should probably tell them you need to leave a half hour or 45 minutes before you really have to leave because they will undoubtedly want you to stay longer.
Today my resource mom was teaching me pronunciation. They have many consonant combinations in Kinyarwanda that can tangle up an English speakers mouth. ‘mw’, ‘rw’, ‘kw’ are very common here. After practicing with me for five minutes I finally got it! It was a small triumph. I skipped home and taught my housemates what I had learned. There are many pieces to the puzzle of learning this language and we often share our tips to help each other. We have many different teachers. It ranges from our 15 language teachers, our resource families, and any random person on the street. Every second here is a learning opportunity. It can be tiring but we are still all very excited.
The house I live in is a beautiful 20 minute walk from where meals are held and classes are taught. As we walk back and forth, we greet nearly every person since that is customary here. The Rwandan educational system recently changed their language policy. They used to teach French as a mandatory second language in school. Just this year it was changed to English. There are many children that like to practice their English greetings. They know about as much English as we know Kinyarwanda so our usual exchange is –Good Morning! How are you? I am good, how are you? Good. What is your name? My name is…. At this point we have nothing left to say to each other in a common language so we go our separate ways. Many of the children like to shake your hand if you let them and are excited to share just those few sentences with you. There is not the practice of being afraid of strangers, although some still have shy personalities. Children are still children, they just tend to be more autonomous and social in Rwandan culture.
A couple afternoons ago, a fellow trainee Ryan and I were walking to the internet café during our lunch break. As usual we talked to all the children on the way because they were also on their lunch break from school. An exuberant little boy asked my name and I replied ‘Nitwa Kimberly. Muri bande?’. I expected to hear a French name because many, many Rwandans have French names. Instead he replied Chuck Norris. At this point we had already been walking in separate directions but I almost fell on the ground laughing. Chuck Norris was very proud of his comic skills and was roaring with laughter too. No matter how depressing the history and circumstances of this country may be, the children always make me smile each and every day. I have since also met Obama and another Chuck Norris. I hope to meet many more.
On a different note, I’d like to introduce my resource family. My pre-service training is somewhat different than most trainee groups. In some countries trainees live with host families. It helps immerse them into the language, culture and community. Because we are only the third group of volunteers in Rwanda since 1994, the foundation of host families has not been created yet. Instead the Peace Corps houses us together in four different locations with our language teachers. We are given a resource family which we visit about three times a week. We practice our language skills, learn about them and are just generally cared for. It can be an awkward situation, often coupled with confusion for weeks until we can hold a conversation above a 2-year-old level. I am very blessed to have a wonderful resource family. My resource mom, Violette, is a primary school teacher. She knows Kinyarwanda, French and a little English. It is wonderful mother and a very patient teacher. She has been helping me with my French and Kinyarwanda. She has 4 children, ages 9-2. I will not attempt to write their names now because I will butcher the spelling. I was able to meet her husband today. He works in the capital, Kigali, so he is only home on weekends. This situation is somewhat common, as it also is in the US right now with the recession happening. He comes home Friday night and leaves Sunday night. I was a little nervous to meet him but he is very kind and caring.
Being in their home and watching them interact with their children reminds me of home. The children must wash their faces and hands before Violette lets them greet me. The littlest girl often wants to hold my skirt and be by my side if she is not sharing food with her mom. The eldest daughter is a little mother to the rest of the siblings, very much reminding me of my eldest sister. The rolling eyes when she has to take care of her goofy siblings and her natural maturity and responsibility is identical. They always serve me tea with milk and sugar. Today I was also given passion fruit and what they call tree tomatoes. Tree tomatoes are about the same size as passion fruit. They are hard to describe but you eat the seeds in the middle. They are mix of the bitterness of pomegranate and sweetness of a tomato. They asked which I liked better (passion fruit for sure) and then forced me to take the remaining five and put them in my bag for later. Visiting them reminds me of visiting a grandma or great aunts and uncles. They will not let you leave before eating something. You should probably tell them you need to leave a half hour or 45 minutes before you really have to leave because they will undoubtedly want you to stay longer.
Today my resource mom was teaching me pronunciation. They have many consonant combinations in Kinyarwanda that can tangle up an English speakers mouth. ‘mw’, ‘rw’, ‘kw’ are very common here. After practicing with me for five minutes I finally got it! It was a small triumph. I skipped home and taught my housemates what I had learned. There are many pieces to the puzzle of learning this language and we often share our tips to help each other. We have many different teachers. It ranges from our 15 language teachers, our resource families, and any random person on the street. Every second here is a learning opportunity. It can be tiring but we are still all very excited.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Here in Rwanda
Here goes. I have already been struggling to absorb and be able to accurately describe what has happened to me in the last week. I moved to Rwanda to begin my service as a Peace Corps volunteer. I will be in training for 10 weeks before I can officially be inducted as a volunteer. So let me start at the beginning. I missed staging. Staging is a pre-service orientation and involves getting to know the other persons in your training group and learn basic Peace Corps policies. It is a 36 hour event that takes place in the US. Due to my passport issues, I was given one more day of vacation and was forced to skip staging and meet my group at their layover in Brussels. It all worked out for the best. I traveled to DC by myself to complete the staging paperwork and obtain my yellow fever shot solo. Although most people thought missing staging would create a more stressful departure but I have to admit it was bad. Flexibility is the name of the game. I was able to meet my country desk rep in DC who was incredibly helpful. I rode the metro, enjoyed the scenery, and ate Subway as my last American meal. This is nothing like the comfort of knowing the answer to every question they are about to ask: Italian Herb and Cheese, toasted, no cheese, cucumbers, tomato, pickles and cucumbers with sweet onion sauce.
Well now that my housemates have awakened I am distracted from my blog post. I live in one of the four houses the PC rents in my training town. It is the largest house. I live with 9 girls, 2 boys and 4 language teachers. It has the most beautiful view, definitely the best of all the houses. We are on a hill looking out over the valley. There are many hills in the distance. It is generally partly cloudy, the pretty, puffy clouds. Everyday is breathtaking here.
I’m going to attempt to explain the most simple everyday things so you all can get a sense of life here. Yes they wear the same clothes as us. The girls tend to wear more skirts than Americans and always at least to the knee. Jeans are common as are khakis, capris, etc. People on the whole are generally more dressed up than Americans. Linen pants, button down shirts, always well groomed. I’ve seen a ridiculous amount of women wearing fancy sandals or high heels on dirt roads. It’s hard to not look frumpy around this crowd.
I spend most of my time in class. I am learning Kinyarwanda in 10 short weeks. Challenging and frustrating but it's only week one.
Now let me describe the most important parts of life - the bathroom. We do have plumbing but water generally only works two hours a day. Mainly midnight to 2am because that's when the hydroelectric plants turns it on. We have two tanks of water in the backyard. Buckets are taken into the house for all purposes but drinking. It has to be filtered or boiled first, or both. There is a pit/latrine in the backyard for most bathroom purposes. There's nothing that bonds a group faster than discussing bathroom functions and figuring out the proper procedures here. Toilet paper can't go in the toilet. I feel that most things we've dealt with in the past week are Rwandans trying to Americanize things for us. Everything remains in this middle ground of it being nothing we are used to but also nothing they are used to - a cultural grey area. For example, our sink is lovely and we appreciate the fact that plumbing is there but water is rarely coming out of facet. So in the past week I have successfully gone to the bathroom in a hole and given myself a bucket bath. Hot water is a thing in my past. Thank goodness it is usually very warm here.
The town we live in for training is wonderful. Everyone is friendly. You are expected to say hello and how are you to everyone you walk past. We have gotten very good at our kinyarwanda greetings and they are always surprised we are speaking their language. Although most of the time they would like to practice their English with us. Immersion can be a struggle here because we all want to be great students in our second language.
We met with the mayor a couple nights ago and were welcomed to the community. It was wonderful. No celebration is complete without a Fanta so we all mingled and drank Fanta with the police chief, education administrators and mayor.
Sorry for the rambling. I will try and get out every detail. I'm just afraid this long post will take forever to load so I'm going to stop now and write more later.
Thanks for all the warm messages and emails. I appreciate all the support I can get!
Well now that my housemates have awakened I am distracted from my blog post. I live in one of the four houses the PC rents in my training town. It is the largest house. I live with 9 girls, 2 boys and 4 language teachers. It has the most beautiful view, definitely the best of all the houses. We are on a hill looking out over the valley. There are many hills in the distance. It is generally partly cloudy, the pretty, puffy clouds. Everyday is breathtaking here.
I’m going to attempt to explain the most simple everyday things so you all can get a sense of life here. Yes they wear the same clothes as us. The girls tend to wear more skirts than Americans and always at least to the knee. Jeans are common as are khakis, capris, etc. People on the whole are generally more dressed up than Americans. Linen pants, button down shirts, always well groomed. I’ve seen a ridiculous amount of women wearing fancy sandals or high heels on dirt roads. It’s hard to not look frumpy around this crowd.
I spend most of my time in class. I am learning Kinyarwanda in 10 short weeks. Challenging and frustrating but it's only week one.
Now let me describe the most important parts of life - the bathroom. We do have plumbing but water generally only works two hours a day. Mainly midnight to 2am because that's when the hydroelectric plants turns it on. We have two tanks of water in the backyard. Buckets are taken into the house for all purposes but drinking. It has to be filtered or boiled first, or both. There is a pit/latrine in the backyard for most bathroom purposes. There's nothing that bonds a group faster than discussing bathroom functions and figuring out the proper procedures here. Toilet paper can't go in the toilet. I feel that most things we've dealt with in the past week are Rwandans trying to Americanize things for us. Everything remains in this middle ground of it being nothing we are used to but also nothing they are used to - a cultural grey area. For example, our sink is lovely and we appreciate the fact that plumbing is there but water is rarely coming out of facet. So in the past week I have successfully gone to the bathroom in a hole and given myself a bucket bath. Hot water is a thing in my past. Thank goodness it is usually very warm here.
The town we live in for training is wonderful. Everyone is friendly. You are expected to say hello and how are you to everyone you walk past. We have gotten very good at our kinyarwanda greetings and they are always surprised we are speaking their language. Although most of the time they would like to practice their English with us. Immersion can be a struggle here because we all want to be great students in our second language.
We met with the mayor a couple nights ago and were welcomed to the community. It was wonderful. No celebration is complete without a Fanta so we all mingled and drank Fanta with the police chief, education administrators and mayor.
Sorry for the rambling. I will try and get out every detail. I'm just afraid this long post will take forever to load so I'm going to stop now and write more later.
Thanks for all the warm messages and emails. I appreciate all the support I can get!
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