I have spent the past week traveling to other volunteers' sites which just emphasized even more how different everyone's placement is. Some are perfect fits, others require more adjustment.
This is the story of an adventure, mainly because it involved AJ, a PCV I consider a good friend. Although we always seem to get into adventures together and have too much fun.
So it all began when I arrived from my 6 hour bus ride. How's does one find a restroom during a 6 hour Rwandan bus trip? you ask. You don't. You slightly dehydrate yourself (much to the chagrin of my Peace Corps doctor) and you simply don't need to go to the bathroom. Problem solved. Back to the real story though.
AJ had told me to get off the bus at the very last stop, which to her knowledge was town. I however found myself in a very different town. In front of me was a small wooden bridge leading to the other side of the lake. I had heard of these fabled bridges. They tend to lead to other countries, countries I am not allowed to step foot in. So at least I had that part right. The only thing that separated me from the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) was a toll-booth style bar and the smarts to know bridges are bad things to cross. I was wandering around the tiny town of Rusizi, trying to find the take a right, take a left directions that would lead me to the restaurant with AJ meeting me. But, reminding me of my Aunt Kath's directional abilities, AJ quickly changed that to turn left and then turn left again and circle the market until you see sculptured elephant tusks marking the restaurant's entrance. I stared at the dinky village market and knew I could circle it a million times and all I would find was some trees and a bunch of staring locals. It all worked out for the best though. AJ met me there and we visited Francois. So AJ lives with Catholic nuns in her community and helps at their health center. About a year ago they took in a baby named Francois. He was either abandoned by his family or had no family. He is HIV positive. So now Francois lives with the nuns and gets amazing care. He wasn't progressing on his walking abilities so they sent him to another Catholic health center to get some physical therapy. He was able to take a few steps when we visited and was so adorable it broke my heart.
The next day at the market we are busy bargaining for ingredients when I look down to find a Rwandan woman crouching down and touching my leg. It is not uncommon for people to be curious and want to touch your skin or hair since they've generally never been in range of a white person. So I started talking to this woman who was laughing at her folly and being caught. I jokingly gave her a hard time through our language barrier. But she wasn't done. About five minutes later she has her friend bring over a bottle of lotion, trying to sell it to me. Apparently I have dry skin. Leave it to a morning in the market for me to get criticized for dry skin.
The next couple days were spent going to two birthday parties with two amazing birthday cakes!! It is indeed possible to cook a delicious birthday cake from American cake mix in Rwanda. I've heard the brownies aren't half bad either. So I'll skip over the particulars and get to the part where we are hiking out of Nyengwe forest.
We came to fork in the road and pondered our choice, left or right. We asked the elderly man descending the mountain and his response was neither. Instead he told us to go straight. Straight was a footpath created by the villagers as a shortcut. It was literally 'up' the mountain. We stopped to rest about every five minutes because of the harsh ascent. I kept picturing the old man laughing at the thought of two white girls trekking up a mountain. Although in all reality he probably didn't give it a second thought because he had conditioned himself his whole life to be able to climb this mountain. Walking sticks are not overrated in these situations, mainly because I did not possess one.
I spent the rest of the weeks at the convent and the health center, counting and handing out pills to Rwandans. It is one of my activities I am adding to a list called "If I did this in America I would get sued/fired/arrested, etc." One of my favorite joys of staying with the nuns was their preoccupation for Mari Mar. Mari Mar is a wonderful tela novela in case you frequent Mexican soap operas. Luckily for me the nuns had a copy they had obtained from other nuns of Mari Mar DVDs dubbed over in French. Actually understanding the words is not important. I mean, really, mute an American soap opera and see if it is any less entertaining. They would often stay awake until the wee hours of the morning just to find out what happens next.
Electricity…….2000 Rfw/month
DVD player……some made up number
Cost of DVDs to illegally copy a Mexican tela novela…500 Rfw
Nuns singing the Mari Mar theme song and shaking their butts…Priceless
There is a cat called Gus Gus…okay that's not his real name. I had renamed him after the fat mouse in Cinderella. His given name was Olaf…so I have to add something completely inappropriate. Rwandan people call a cat - pussy. So this cat was often called Pus. I can't believe I just wrote that in my blog, but in the name of cultural exchange… Add that little tidbit to the rest of this story and you can't help but laugh. When we crossed the field to dinner with the priests one night, Gus Gus followed. The nuns were worried, constantly calling after him to stay within range. But sure enough, we left and Gus Gus did not. The nuns pestered us the whole night and next day about going back to retrieve Gus Gus. So therefore I pestered AJ until we made the trek back. But to no avail. Gus Gus was no where to be found. The head priest suggested that he was eaten during the night or joined a large pack of cats roaming the countryside. He promised to call if he saw anything. Sure enough, a half hour later the call came. 'I have spotted him! Come quick.' Thank goodness. Order is restored in the universe.
…and then the thing we never thought we'd see in Rwanda HAPPENED. A patient's cell phone rang while we were giving her the prescription drugs for her sick child. She turned towards us and said - Excuse me while I take this. Oh my. The world stopped spinning for a moment.
There are many more funny stories from this week - getting scolded by nuns because of an impromptu dance party, AJ getting her feet scrubbed by a houselady who was siiiiiick of seeing her poor hygiene, one surprising 'that's what she said' from AJ, sharing a twin mattress with someone always brings out a few giggles, the return bus ride with a dozen outspoken, overbearing, voracious Guinean woman coming from the March of Women in the DRC, watching AJ get her hair braided as if she was Rwandan, farming a plot of land with the Rwandan mothers of malnourished babies from the health center, posing for fake pictures of farming with the nun and yours truly, singing in the rain in the lovely village of Bande after getting drenched - but maybe for another time.
…and later I will also talk about how important good mental health is when serving in the Peace Corps!
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