I've been a fool. There comes a time when you are so angry or disappointed or sad that you can only see the ugly in life. You don't want to feel joy so you purposefully block it. It's a dangerous place to be. Perhaps the saving grace of Rwanda is that you can never fully isolate yourself. This country, as I'm imagining most African countries are, is incredibly hands on. Literally. Looking back, I believe there were whole days I went without coming in physical contact with another person in the US. We are incredibly isolated, both physically and emotionally. Rwanda is in your face! You shake hands with everyone, all day long. You give hugs. You get stuffed into buses. Your neighbors know all your business, because you are their soap opera. I've tried to lock myself up in my house but I can still HEAR them. There is no escape. And that's a relief.
I went to the market this morning. One of my very first market friends is a woman who sells passion fruit mainly, but also some of the saddest looking veggies there. She's earned my customer loyalty though. Today she was sad to show me that all the passion fruit was already sold, except one. She gave it to me free because I'm her friend, as she proudly proclaimed to her fellow sellers. After I told I wanted tomatoes too, she dragged me over to her friend who sells tomatoes and demanded that I receive only the best ones. In that moment I wanted to make her life easier, give her a gift, something. Friendship is priceless.
I'm hoping the tide is turning. I will certainly try to see the sweeter things in life here.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Sounds of Rainy Season
"There's a storm comin', Ma!" Statement often quoted on the cusp of a thunderstorm. By Americans, not Rwandans…just to clarify.
The rustle of the banana tree leaves. The gentlest of white noise that always makes you think it's sprinkling before it really is. It's like a soothing whisper.
Clanks of metal to metal. A door creaking or a piece of roof that is a tad bit loose. The wind plays with it as it picks up steam, creating the percussion section.
The persistent pounding on the tin roof. So loud you can't hear yourself think. It numbs the mind as it commands attention.
The clamp of thunder. Yes, that could have been directly above your house. The majesty and power reminds you just how minute you are in this world.
The flip flop thuds of Rwandan footsteps as they hustle out of the rain. I love how much Rwandans hate rain and getting wet. It rivals the Wicked Witch of the West.
The rustle of the banana tree leaves. The gentlest of white noise that always makes you think it's sprinkling before it really is. It's like a soothing whisper.
Clanks of metal to metal. A door creaking or a piece of roof that is a tad bit loose. The wind plays with it as it picks up steam, creating the percussion section.
The persistent pounding on the tin roof. So loud you can't hear yourself think. It numbs the mind as it commands attention.
The clamp of thunder. Yes, that could have been directly above your house. The majesty and power reminds you just how minute you are in this world.
The flip flop thuds of Rwandan footsteps as they hustle out of the rain. I love how much Rwandans hate rain and getting wet. It rivals the Wicked Witch of the West.
The Christmas That Never Was
My first Christmas away from home, family, winter…you can imagine the difficulty. Hence why this was the Christmas that never was.
Christmas is either about two things, or a combo of these two: Jesus being born aka some serious religious celebration and family. I was lacking on both accounts this year. On top of that I'm in some sort of tropical time freeze. Maybe people from warmer US states have an easier go at getting into the holiday spirit. I fruitlessly played my Christmas music to no avail. That magical feeling never came. There was no blinding white, deadly silent winter morning. No watching of 'White Christmas'. No family tension. I mean, throw me a bone here. I even ducked out of going to church this Christmas.
Since I'm on the verge of seeming like a scrooge, I will tell you some high points. I drank hot chocolate with marshmallows. I slept in. I spent time with some wonderful fellow volunteers. I talked to several family members and even got to see some of their smiling faces. I ruined a Christmas present surprise…oops, but it did make me feel like I was a part of the party. Went out to eat at a restaurant, and it wasn't even a Chinese restaurant.
So am I sad I missed Christmas? Again I reiterate, I didn't really miss Christmas because it's like I'm caught in eternal summer. Christmas wasn't supposed to happen, was it?
'Happy New Year!' everyone. Got your new year's resolution yet? Post them as a comment. I'm still trying to determine mine and I could use some inspiration.
Christmas is either about two things, or a combo of these two: Jesus being born aka some serious religious celebration and family. I was lacking on both accounts this year. On top of that I'm in some sort of tropical time freeze. Maybe people from warmer US states have an easier go at getting into the holiday spirit. I fruitlessly played my Christmas music to no avail. That magical feeling never came. There was no blinding white, deadly silent winter morning. No watching of 'White Christmas'. No family tension. I mean, throw me a bone here. I even ducked out of going to church this Christmas.
Since I'm on the verge of seeming like a scrooge, I will tell you some high points. I drank hot chocolate with marshmallows. I slept in. I spent time with some wonderful fellow volunteers. I talked to several family members and even got to see some of their smiling faces. I ruined a Christmas present surprise…oops, but it did make me feel like I was a part of the party. Went out to eat at a restaurant, and it wasn't even a Chinese restaurant.
So am I sad I missed Christmas? Again I reiterate, I didn't really miss Christmas because it's like I'm caught in eternal summer. Christmas wasn't supposed to happen, was it?
'Happy New Year!' everyone. Got your new year's resolution yet? Post them as a comment. I'm still trying to determine mine and I could use some inspiration.
Fashion Trends
When I think 'economically developing country', I don't automatically think fashion statements. So you can imagine my surprise when fashion trends start popping up around the village.
It all started right after I moved to site. It was like a massive crate of jellies had been air lifted into Rwanda. In case you missed out on jellies all your life and are thoroughly confused aka you are male - they are shoes, plastic-y and summer chic of the female variety. For a moment I thought I time traveled back to the 90s (and there was probably a resurgence in the US since then). Rwandans were scooping up jellies like they were the key to becoming cool. I practically got sucked in myself. I was on the way to the market to pick up a pair when I realized I didn't need to buy yet another pair of uncomfortable shoes in Rwanda.
Then came the knitting. Ever since school went on break for the holidays, all my teacher neighbors have been sitting out by the water pump knitting. They kept knitting and knitting and low and behold ponchos started coming out of nowhere. The first time I almost fell over on the ground laughing, looking at a Rwandan woman in a poncho, thinking of Ugly Betty. This very morning, I saw two tiny sisters wearing identical ponchos and I knew we've hit the height of this fashion trend.
So what will be next: snap bracelets, scrunchies, capris, baby doll dresses with cardigans, pencil skirts? If you have any premonitions, let me know. I'm still trying to achieve my Rwandan popularity.
It all started right after I moved to site. It was like a massive crate of jellies had been air lifted into Rwanda. In case you missed out on jellies all your life and are thoroughly confused aka you are male - they are shoes, plastic-y and summer chic of the female variety. For a moment I thought I time traveled back to the 90s (and there was probably a resurgence in the US since then). Rwandans were scooping up jellies like they were the key to becoming cool. I practically got sucked in myself. I was on the way to the market to pick up a pair when I realized I didn't need to buy yet another pair of uncomfortable shoes in Rwanda.
Then came the knitting. Ever since school went on break for the holidays, all my teacher neighbors have been sitting out by the water pump knitting. They kept knitting and knitting and low and behold ponchos started coming out of nowhere. The first time I almost fell over on the ground laughing, looking at a Rwandan woman in a poncho, thinking of Ugly Betty. This very morning, I saw two tiny sisters wearing identical ponchos and I knew we've hit the height of this fashion trend.
So what will be next: snap bracelets, scrunchies, capris, baby doll dresses with cardigans, pencil skirts? If you have any premonitions, let me know. I'm still trying to achieve my Rwandan popularity.
Daniel
Well Daniel got his cast off. He's been lurking around the hospital for about three or four weeks. We became friends right in the beginning. Daniel is usually roaming the hospital with his posse of three friends. The boys tried to make the hospital as entertaining as possible as they were trapped within its gates. Any form of Rwandan entertainment inevitably involves me, being the freak show.
Daniel was a natural ring leader, being the oldest, at the wise old age of 8 or 9. His favorite buddy, a recurring patient for malnutrition, was the hugger of the group. That's what broke the ice. Who doesn't want a hug in the morning?
When I was little, my friends and I would schedule out our day. Eating, video games, movie, bike ride. I was one of their common activities. Every day I was greeted by this little mob of testosterone about four times. I would get hugs, high fives, strange looks and giggles. They always wanted to look at my computer screen, gaze in wide wonder at my typing, try to steal a pen, listen to my other earphone. I amazed them with my tricks of spinning a coin and making faces out the window during important business meetings.
This troupe of boys were like my Prozac these last few weeks. One by one they have been discharged and disappeared back into the village. So when Daniel came in today to show me the X-ray of his arm and the fuzzy cast-less arm, it was a bittersweet moment. They taught me a few things during their time here. Hugs are essential to everyone's life. Kids in this hospital truly have nothing to do. It's not like a pediatric floor at home with birthday parties, balloon animals, colorful crafts thanks to child life specialists, social workers and nurses. These kids play on the pavement. They run around the feeble patients, circling the surgery ward. They find a plastic bottle to kick around. They make friends and they get set free.
Daniel was a natural ring leader, being the oldest, at the wise old age of 8 or 9. His favorite buddy, a recurring patient for malnutrition, was the hugger of the group. That's what broke the ice. Who doesn't want a hug in the morning?
When I was little, my friends and I would schedule out our day. Eating, video games, movie, bike ride. I was one of their common activities. Every day I was greeted by this little mob of testosterone about four times. I would get hugs, high fives, strange looks and giggles. They always wanted to look at my computer screen, gaze in wide wonder at my typing, try to steal a pen, listen to my other earphone. I amazed them with my tricks of spinning a coin and making faces out the window during important business meetings.
This troupe of boys were like my Prozac these last few weeks. One by one they have been discharged and disappeared back into the village. So when Daniel came in today to show me the X-ray of his arm and the fuzzy cast-less arm, it was a bittersweet moment. They taught me a few things during their time here. Hugs are essential to everyone's life. Kids in this hospital truly have nothing to do. It's not like a pediatric floor at home with birthday parties, balloon animals, colorful crafts thanks to child life specialists, social workers and nurses. These kids play on the pavement. They run around the feeble patients, circling the surgery ward. They find a plastic bottle to kick around. They make friends and they get set free.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Third Goal
So the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps is quickly approaching. In celebration of cultural exchange and creativity a website was created for volunteers, past and present, to share their experiences. The website is - thirdgoal.org. Take a look around. I especially enjoy the song about 'Why am I here?'.
Spinals and Flow Charts
I don't get it. A colleague comes into the office this morning. He is the anesthesiologist for the hospital. He was up all night helping a C-section. His work schedule goes against every rule about what your body needs to function, especially when you are poking people with needles…around their spine! He works three full days, day and night and then gets three days off.
So back to the point, he comes into the Mental Health office this morning. He wants help recreating a simple flow chart to use for a presentation in just a few hours. When I say he was looking for help I should say he was commanding help. Even though I don't think they completely mean it, Rwandans have a way of phrasing favors - like they aren't actually favors. So the statement was more like - You will recreate this chart for me. They don't mean to be rude. I think it's part translation and part they have to say yes to helping each other, always (skip ahead to the end with me scratching my head). Also insert the lucky fact that I have no problem saying no to people. I am the rude one in this scenario.
He was looking for Christine, who wasn't in the office. Figuring I knew something about the whole text box/arrow technique, he then asked me. I emphasized how simple it was and gave him a two minute tutorial. Remember that whole sustainability thing? I figured, job completed. Then Christine walked in. Instead of using the skills I just taught him, he proceeded to tell Christine to do it for him.
Now I want you to picture something in your head. You show up to work at 7 am. You've got a staff meeting first thing and there is already a line forming of the patients you have to see for the day. The total will round out to about 10. It looks like a full day ahead. Up to your desk walks a coworker. They tell you to go ahead and complete their work. Instead of promptly telling them off, saying no with tact, or even take some time to consider whether you can accomplish all this today and then taking it on, you just do it, nike style. Without a second thought you take on their work - that they are capable of doing, and besides being tired, have enough time to accomplish.
This is one of those things that can not be stamped with a 'good' or a 'bad'. It's just different. But yes, this is the part where I'm scratching my head in disbelief.
So back to the point, he comes into the Mental Health office this morning. He wants help recreating a simple flow chart to use for a presentation in just a few hours. When I say he was looking for help I should say he was commanding help. Even though I don't think they completely mean it, Rwandans have a way of phrasing favors - like they aren't actually favors. So the statement was more like - You will recreate this chart for me. They don't mean to be rude. I think it's part translation and part they have to say yes to helping each other, always (skip ahead to the end with me scratching my head). Also insert the lucky fact that I have no problem saying no to people. I am the rude one in this scenario.
He was looking for Christine, who wasn't in the office. Figuring I knew something about the whole text box/arrow technique, he then asked me. I emphasized how simple it was and gave him a two minute tutorial. Remember that whole sustainability thing? I figured, job completed. Then Christine walked in. Instead of using the skills I just taught him, he proceeded to tell Christine to do it for him.
Now I want you to picture something in your head. You show up to work at 7 am. You've got a staff meeting first thing and there is already a line forming of the patients you have to see for the day. The total will round out to about 10. It looks like a full day ahead. Up to your desk walks a coworker. They tell you to go ahead and complete their work. Instead of promptly telling them off, saying no with tact, or even take some time to consider whether you can accomplish all this today and then taking it on, you just do it, nike style. Without a second thought you take on their work - that they are capable of doing, and besides being tired, have enough time to accomplish.
This is one of those things that can not be stamped with a 'good' or a 'bad'. It's just different. But yes, this is the part where I'm scratching my head in disbelief.
Consistency
This seems a bit sacrilegious to complain on Thanksgiving, but a perfect example happened today. So since we've arrived, everyone has discussed how developing a schedule is very important for your mental health. Essentially we have control over virtually nothing here, so little things like your morning routine or your bedtime routine become crucial. This sounds so silly like we are babies but scoff not. It is true. I love my schedules. Maybe a little too much.
So what are the schedules fighting against? Inconsistency. I walked to work this morning, unlocked my office door, and low and behold, the desktop computer was gone. All the cords removed. Just disappeared. Of course that was some communication that happened for this removal to take place but I certainly wasn't a part of it. I'm just glad I didn't have any documents on it.
Many of us Peace Corps volunteers have been displaced from our houses because of rising rent, short housing contracts, etc. I feel such sympathy for these volunteers. Your home is really all you've got. It is a private sanctuary, a zen moment to the day.
I think they should make a new slogan for Peace Corps. Something involving it being one long transition and period of readjustment for two years. Something like - the straight jacket is waiting…so how far can you make it?
So what are the schedules fighting against? Inconsistency. I walked to work this morning, unlocked my office door, and low and behold, the desktop computer was gone. All the cords removed. Just disappeared. Of course that was some communication that happened for this removal to take place but I certainly wasn't a part of it. I'm just glad I didn't have any documents on it.
Many of us Peace Corps volunteers have been displaced from our houses because of rising rent, short housing contracts, etc. I feel such sympathy for these volunteers. Your home is really all you've got. It is a private sanctuary, a zen moment to the day.
I think they should make a new slogan for Peace Corps. Something involving it being one long transition and period of readjustment for two years. Something like - the straight jacket is waiting…so how far can you make it?
Hiding
I sitting in my office on a Sunday. I've holed myself up, only seeing the outlines of people behind the purple and cream curtains. I just can't bear to be seen. Have you ever really just wanted to hide from the world…while simultaneously charging your computer?
Every offhand comment, look, tone, laugh feels like a jeer, an accusation, mocking, an assault. It's a minefield from the moment I take one step outside my front gate to the secure clink of the lock on my office door, the swoosh of the curtains as I close them and the heavy sigh of hermit solitude. It doesn't matter that none, or almost none, of my interactions are meant the way I take them. I can't rationalize behavior. I can't drudge up my patience. I can't logically attribute actions to cultural differences. I just want to hide. So hiding I am.
Every offhand comment, look, tone, laugh feels like a jeer, an accusation, mocking, an assault. It's a minefield from the moment I take one step outside my front gate to the secure clink of the lock on my office door, the swoosh of the curtains as I close them and the heavy sigh of hermit solitude. It doesn't matter that none, or almost none, of my interactions are meant the way I take them. I can't rationalize behavior. I can't drudge up my patience. I can't logically attribute actions to cultural differences. I just want to hide. So hiding I am.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
House
Sometimes being in Rwanda is like being in an episode of House. Wild exaggeration but bear with me.
Saturday I woke up very early in the morning. I wanted to bathe my leg in calamine lotion. I'm still unclear why Peace Corps wouldn't include that in our medical kits.
*Tangent alert: Peace Corps gives each volunteer a medical kit that includes first aid stuff, basic medicine and things we would need to take immediately before traveling into the office. Essential things to any Peace Corps med kit: anti-diarrhea pills, stool sample kit, malaria test kit. But there's lots of normal things too, like off brand of advil, tylenol, antacids, bandaids, benedryl. And a perk of visiting other volunteers - we all have the same kit so if something comes up we can use each others' kits.
So back to the point, woke up wanting to rip my leg off and then scratch it against the bark of a tree to make it happy. I was wide awake so I assumed it the standard 5am wake up call my body gives me. I got up and started doing things before realizing it was 3:30am! Oh boy. This was the wee morning hours of our Thanksgiving celebration so it was going to be a long day.
After my little volunteer posse woke up at a more reasonable hour (6am), I had them take a look. I had some suspect red blotches around my ankle area. Plus a bunch of regular mosquito bites. The suspect ones were determined to be poison ivy, something I've never experienced before. There was some question of the existence of poison ivy in Rwanda and our resident plant expert went out to the garden to search for the evil plant. But we found nothing. I continued wanting to rip my leg off and let 20 people scratch it at once. I settled for taking Benedryl and trying to distract myself with some fabulous food.
The next morning I woke up with the blotch becoming a massive blister. There was more medical questioning from the group. Thank goodness we had Google. The poison ivy diagnosis was stuck with.
Thinking the medical saga was almost over because the blister had drained. But it seems another one wants to start in the same place. So I emailed details to the PC doctor. We're going to keep an eye on it and maybe in a couple days make sure it wasn't a spider bite.
It goes without saying that in Rwanda you will probably be covered in bites that are questionable. For example, earlier in the Thanksgiving festivities we had a conversation about fleas, bed bugs, and ringworm. And all the afflictions were present with examples to be shown and horror/success stories to be shared. Tips: keep the animals out of your house, keep the children out of your house - both eliminate fleas. Bleach all the wood and mattresses in your house and set things out in the sun for bed begs. Plus the injustice that some things create horrid reactions in some people and latent reactions in others.
So what is my blister/itchy/blotch issue? Hard to say. Maybe my Dr. House can figure it out. Or it will just fade away and I'll stop thinking about it.
Saturday I woke up very early in the morning. I wanted to bathe my leg in calamine lotion. I'm still unclear why Peace Corps wouldn't include that in our medical kits.
*Tangent alert: Peace Corps gives each volunteer a medical kit that includes first aid stuff, basic medicine and things we would need to take immediately before traveling into the office. Essential things to any Peace Corps med kit: anti-diarrhea pills, stool sample kit, malaria test kit. But there's lots of normal things too, like off brand of advil, tylenol, antacids, bandaids, benedryl. And a perk of visiting other volunteers - we all have the same kit so if something comes up we can use each others' kits.
So back to the point, woke up wanting to rip my leg off and then scratch it against the bark of a tree to make it happy. I was wide awake so I assumed it the standard 5am wake up call my body gives me. I got up and started doing things before realizing it was 3:30am! Oh boy. This was the wee morning hours of our Thanksgiving celebration so it was going to be a long day.
After my little volunteer posse woke up at a more reasonable hour (6am), I had them take a look. I had some suspect red blotches around my ankle area. Plus a bunch of regular mosquito bites. The suspect ones were determined to be poison ivy, something I've never experienced before. There was some question of the existence of poison ivy in Rwanda and our resident plant expert went out to the garden to search for the evil plant. But we found nothing. I continued wanting to rip my leg off and let 20 people scratch it at once. I settled for taking Benedryl and trying to distract myself with some fabulous food.
The next morning I woke up with the blotch becoming a massive blister. There was more medical questioning from the group. Thank goodness we had Google. The poison ivy diagnosis was stuck with.
Thinking the medical saga was almost over because the blister had drained. But it seems another one wants to start in the same place. So I emailed details to the PC doctor. We're going to keep an eye on it and maybe in a couple days make sure it wasn't a spider bite.
It goes without saying that in Rwanda you will probably be covered in bites that are questionable. For example, earlier in the Thanksgiving festivities we had a conversation about fleas, bed bugs, and ringworm. And all the afflictions were present with examples to be shown and horror/success stories to be shared. Tips: keep the animals out of your house, keep the children out of your house - both eliminate fleas. Bleach all the wood and mattresses in your house and set things out in the sun for bed begs. Plus the injustice that some things create horrid reactions in some people and latent reactions in others.
So what is my blister/itchy/blotch issue? Hard to say. Maybe my Dr. House can figure it out. Or it will just fade away and I'll stop thinking about it.
Real Thanksgiving
I am writing this post with the threat of getting in very big trouble with my grandmothers and any other family members who have ever cooked me a Thanksgiving dinner. But literally this year was the best Thanksgiving meal I have ever had in my life. Because my grandma wrote to me with concern about how my meal would go, I will go into detail about what happened and the unique challenges of Thanksgiving in Rwanda.
First challenge: It's not a holiday in Rwanda so you don't get the day off. We ended up celebrating on the following Saturday.
Second challenge: It involves much more pre-planning than a Thanksgiving at home. Some ingredients we needed mailed to us, which for anyone who battled the mail system, can take around 3 weeks to 3 months.
Third challenge: Electricity is not a sure thing. The volunteer's house that we stayed at luckily had electricity in the first place and the stove was half gas burners and half electric. But the oven was electric, so the pie-making was a stop and go process throughout the day as the power came and went as it pleased.
The day started wonderfully with pumpkin pancakes, which I hope to make my new Thanksgiving tradition. It was born out of necessity. The can of pumpkin made two pies but we only wanted one and couldn't store the extra. No better way to start the day of gluttony than eating cake-like pancakes as soon as you get out of bed. Almost rivaled watching parades.
The fourth challenge was the fact that being the fourth Thursday of November, placing Rwandan celebrations on the last Saturday of November, being umuganda. Umuganda is the time for community work during Saturday morning. Everything shuts down. No buses. No grocery stores for last minute food errands. We all had to make sure we traveled in early and luckily had ALMOST everything we needed by Saturday morning.
Here's a list of our delicious dishes (really for me to drool over later):
Stuffing complete with apple
Garlic mashed potatoes
Honey rolls with apple butter
Salad with a sesame seed dressing
Cranberry sauce
Fancy mac n'cheese with oregano
Green beans
Carrot souffle which was practically a dessert, yum!
Pumpkin pie
Pecan pie
Cupcakes with adorable decorations spelling out Happy TDay
It was the first Thanksgiving where everyone gathered around the food table and snapped a thousand pictures before we ate.
Of course we had to lay around like slugs afterwards.
In a way the other volunteers around you become like family. First major holiday away from home has come and gone. This is just the start.
First challenge: It's not a holiday in Rwanda so you don't get the day off. We ended up celebrating on the following Saturday.
Second challenge: It involves much more pre-planning than a Thanksgiving at home. Some ingredients we needed mailed to us, which for anyone who battled the mail system, can take around 3 weeks to 3 months.
Third challenge: Electricity is not a sure thing. The volunteer's house that we stayed at luckily had electricity in the first place and the stove was half gas burners and half electric. But the oven was electric, so the pie-making was a stop and go process throughout the day as the power came and went as it pleased.
The day started wonderfully with pumpkin pancakes, which I hope to make my new Thanksgiving tradition. It was born out of necessity. The can of pumpkin made two pies but we only wanted one and couldn't store the extra. No better way to start the day of gluttony than eating cake-like pancakes as soon as you get out of bed. Almost rivaled watching parades.
The fourth challenge was the fact that being the fourth Thursday of November, placing Rwandan celebrations on the last Saturday of November, being umuganda. Umuganda is the time for community work during Saturday morning. Everything shuts down. No buses. No grocery stores for last minute food errands. We all had to make sure we traveled in early and luckily had ALMOST everything we needed by Saturday morning.
Here's a list of our delicious dishes (really for me to drool over later):
Stuffing complete with apple
Garlic mashed potatoes
Honey rolls with apple butter
Salad with a sesame seed dressing
Cranberry sauce
Fancy mac n'cheese with oregano
Green beans
Carrot souffle which was practically a dessert, yum!
Pumpkin pie
Pecan pie
Cupcakes with adorable decorations spelling out Happy TDay
It was the first Thanksgiving where everyone gathered around the food table and snapped a thousand pictures before we ate.
Of course we had to lay around like slugs afterwards.
In a way the other volunteers around you become like family. First major holiday away from home has come and gone. This is just the start.
Deja Vu
Bad news: I've been duped again.
Good news: the dance party trend in Rwanda continues.
In my community there is a small (and by small, I mean large) obsession with surprise birthday parties. Is it really a surprise anymore when every single person is given one? Get back to me on that one. On top of that most of the guests attending aren't even told. Hence, me being duped.
So let's fast forward to the point where I am pulled outside by a coworker, ushered into another coworker's house and shown the birthday cake we are going to surprise Edison with. Again, nothing tipped me off! Rwanda has made me gullible, to surprise parties that aren't even mine!
When I was invited the day before by Fidele (surgery nurse), I didn't think anything about it. He had promised to have us over sometime. Then when I showed up and saw a bunch of other coworkers, including my supervisor Fidele who doesn't really know all of these other people, again didn't think anything of it. Then when even more coworkers were outside cooking, not a second thought.
So I'm really glad this second surprise birthday party happened so I can tell you a few things I forgot on the first go around.
Cake: Cake does exist here. Most Rwandans don't make it at home because they don't have ovens…and don't know how. If you ask them for cake, most will give you a ball of fried dough. There's a love of the fried dough here. I can't completely complain but variety is nice. So this birthday cake was store bought. They even personalized the frosting to have Edison's name on it. We lit candles and did the dramatic walking into a dark room with a lit cake. There was an interesting rendition of Happy Birthday and then How Old Are You. I've had quite a few cakes in Rwanda and questioned their ingredients. There is just something missing. Sugar perhaps. I'm no baking expert but it doesn't taste the same.
Gifts: I've noticed a trend among gifts, especially smaller ones of the birthday variety, not so much wedding. It involves food. Edison was given so much nutritiously horrible food I'm afraid he might have a heart attack in the next couple days if he downs it all.
Dance party: Yes, a dance party happened. I have to say I have a group of the most awkward/funniest dancers as coworkers. It was a mix between bad seventh grade dance and a home for senior citizens let loose. It spiraled into goofiness pretty quickly and quite a few times I had to catch my breathe from giggling so much. They have some interesting moves here. The upside, anything I did instantly became cool and copied. So needless to say I'm reveling in my status as the 'cool kid' in Rwanda. I'm also thankful I'm not Facebook friends with my coworkers. In America I would be dreading the inevitable next day FB posting of embarrassing dance pictures. In Rwanda I believe it equates to these pictures being shown for years upon years to people thinking 'Who is that white girl?'. I'm not being self-involved. The busting out of a photo album is a common occurrence during visits.
Speech: You, as the guest of honor, are expected to give a small speech. In the case of my birthday I had to tell everyone what my future life plans were. It sort of felt like 'where do you see yourself in five years' interview question. Edison had more of a free forum and was able to thank everyone for coming and celebrating. I remember at the very end of my training, almost my whole house went out for drinks as a bittersweet celebration. One of our language teachers stood up and gave a speech. It was incredibly sweet and heartfelt, yet I didn't realize how common marking an occasion with a speech was. It's kind of nice, as long as I'm not the one being stared at by everyone and put on the spot :)
So the November-birthday-filled-month is over. We had five coworker birthdays in November. Our next one is on Christmas and we are all invited to her house. I think I'll be passing on that one. Who knows, we'll probably have a surprise party after vacation.
Good news: the dance party trend in Rwanda continues.
In my community there is a small (and by small, I mean large) obsession with surprise birthday parties. Is it really a surprise anymore when every single person is given one? Get back to me on that one. On top of that most of the guests attending aren't even told. Hence, me being duped.
So let's fast forward to the point where I am pulled outside by a coworker, ushered into another coworker's house and shown the birthday cake we are going to surprise Edison with. Again, nothing tipped me off! Rwanda has made me gullible, to surprise parties that aren't even mine!
When I was invited the day before by Fidele (surgery nurse), I didn't think anything about it. He had promised to have us over sometime. Then when I showed up and saw a bunch of other coworkers, including my supervisor Fidele who doesn't really know all of these other people, again didn't think anything of it. Then when even more coworkers were outside cooking, not a second thought.
So I'm really glad this second surprise birthday party happened so I can tell you a few things I forgot on the first go around.
Cake: Cake does exist here. Most Rwandans don't make it at home because they don't have ovens…and don't know how. If you ask them for cake, most will give you a ball of fried dough. There's a love of the fried dough here. I can't completely complain but variety is nice. So this birthday cake was store bought. They even personalized the frosting to have Edison's name on it. We lit candles and did the dramatic walking into a dark room with a lit cake. There was an interesting rendition of Happy Birthday and then How Old Are You. I've had quite a few cakes in Rwanda and questioned their ingredients. There is just something missing. Sugar perhaps. I'm no baking expert but it doesn't taste the same.
Gifts: I've noticed a trend among gifts, especially smaller ones of the birthday variety, not so much wedding. It involves food. Edison was given so much nutritiously horrible food I'm afraid he might have a heart attack in the next couple days if he downs it all.
Dance party: Yes, a dance party happened. I have to say I have a group of the most awkward/funniest dancers as coworkers. It was a mix between bad seventh grade dance and a home for senior citizens let loose. It spiraled into goofiness pretty quickly and quite a few times I had to catch my breathe from giggling so much. They have some interesting moves here. The upside, anything I did instantly became cool and copied. So needless to say I'm reveling in my status as the 'cool kid' in Rwanda. I'm also thankful I'm not Facebook friends with my coworkers. In America I would be dreading the inevitable next day FB posting of embarrassing dance pictures. In Rwanda I believe it equates to these pictures being shown for years upon years to people thinking 'Who is that white girl?'. I'm not being self-involved. The busting out of a photo album is a common occurrence during visits.
Speech: You, as the guest of honor, are expected to give a small speech. In the case of my birthday I had to tell everyone what my future life plans were. It sort of felt like 'where do you see yourself in five years' interview question. Edison had more of a free forum and was able to thank everyone for coming and celebrating. I remember at the very end of my training, almost my whole house went out for drinks as a bittersweet celebration. One of our language teachers stood up and gave a speech. It was incredibly sweet and heartfelt, yet I didn't realize how common marking an occasion with a speech was. It's kind of nice, as long as I'm not the one being stared at by everyone and put on the spot :)
So the November-birthday-filled-month is over. We had five coworker birthdays in November. Our next one is on Christmas and we are all invited to her house. I think I'll be passing on that one. Who knows, we'll probably have a surprise party after vacation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
