Well, after two months in Rwanda, I thought it time to do some reflecting on my time here as well as look ahead to the two years I have in front of me. Over the past two months, I’ve experienced so much, learned so much, been confused by so much, been moved by so much. So settle in, grab some popcorn (no really, have some for me, kettle corn is my favorite) and let’s look back at the past two months of Amy: It’s a Rwandaful Life.
Friends/Relationships/Connections:
Well, we began as 37 strangers, picked to live and work in Rwanda (yes, my intention was to sound like the beginning of the Real World intro) and despite being down to 35 trainees (we miss you Anna and Allie!!) I’m pretty excited that I get to spend the next 2 years in this country with this group of people. Everyone comes from diverse upbringings and backgrounds and brings something different to the group. We each have unusual skills and talents, as well as a certain level of awkwardness and unique humor that will provide us with endless entertainment on this lovely continent.
Well first off, there’s Jessi, who people have already started calling my “other half,” “soul mate” and “life partner”. We’ve shared a house, a bedroom, a bed (at times), language class, clothes, and even parasitic pizza (and its aftermath). I’m grateful to have her here and look forward to many many years of friendship to come. And many visits to her house, and the mango tree that grows there, in the Eastern Province.
My housemates (Tech House Represent!) are fantastic. Jessi, Jenny, Sally, Sonya, Arielle, Sihya, Lawrence, Gilbert, Esperance and Gerardine might be the best group of people I could have ever asked to live. Nights consistently end in fits of laughter or strobe lighted dance parties or inappropriate games; fantastic (and I mean incredibly fantastic) meals have been cooked; and we just have each others backs, inside and outside of the house. I love them all. Yes, even you, Lawrence.
Then there are our LCFs and the other Peace Corps Staff who by now I pretty much just consider as my family. It’s amazing to see the relationships that blossom despite language and cultural barriers. We truly are at a point where we understand each other, and I’m not only speaking to the fact that we can now each speak a lot of the other’s language. The connection is unspoken, really. But it continues to amaze me, and bring me a ton of happiness. And sadness knowing that starting next week I won’t be spending every waking minute with these people. But they’re not going anywhere (except Abel, he’s going to South Africa for school. Yay!) and when all else fails I can stalk them via phone or facebook.
Food/Sustenance/Disease Carrying Nourishment:
Rwandan food and I are in a never-ending struggle, an epic battle of good versus evil (yet I can’t quite figure out who’s on what side). We have our tiffs, I decide I never want to speak to it or see it again, but then the hunger pains hit and I always come crawling back to the table. And then there was of course the infamous Butare Poopy Pizza incident. This is definitely the first time in my entire life that I haven’t craved pizza, in fact I’d go as far as to say pizza actually sounds repulsive. I do, however, continue to crave Chipotle, sushi and Asian food (just so you know I‘m not going entirely crazy). I’m excited to move to site and be forced to cook for myself, though along with this excitement is an almost equal dose of fear that I’ll soon be surviving on fruit, raw carrots and bread alone.
I love plantains, particularly when they’re cooked in a peanutty curry sauce. I can eat peas and carrots for almost every meal, and beans and rice will never be far from my dietary radar. I think I will learn to love dodo (it’s a green, kind of like spinach, but not really at all) but ubugari (strange dough-like ball that you dip in sauce) and I will never be friends. Ever. I’m fairly certain I’ll become a vegetarian once I get to site (despite the occasional goat brochette from a local watering hole) and I’ll continue to love potatoes in all of their different forms. The lack of “spice” is fairly depressing, so I’m excited for spices I know are on the way from my parents and hope that I can track down cayenne pepper soon, as the hot pepper that is available here (urasenda) does not agree with my pallet. Don’t get me wrong, I looooove the heat it provides, but there’s something about the flavor that I can’t stand, I’d put it up close to cilantro even. Yuck. Anyways, I hope I can experiment a lot, so if any of you are bored and want to track down recipes and send them to me to see if it’s possible to make said recipes in Rwanda, pass them along!! Just remember that I’ll most likely be cooking on either a gas tank or electric hotplate, though I have grand intentions to build a makeshift oven. Baby steps, baby steps. Buhoro buhoro.
The Language/Kinyarwanda/Something I Will Be Grateful to Know But Never Even Fathom Mastering:
Words have different meanings depending on the tone you use to speak them, again “umushyitsi“ can mean visitor or earthquake depending on how you say it. The same for “inzara” which can mean hunger or nails. EVERY verb in the entire language begins with “Ku” “Gu” or “Kw” and there is a verb for EVERYTHING. Adjectives, verbs, possession, etc. change depending on whether you’re talking about a person, a thing, and idea, a place, a foreign word, an animal, a liquid…get my drift? Oh, and don’t forget there’s a singular and plural for each of these. Well almost each of them. There’s ALWAYS an exception. And yet, I love it. It’s rhythmic, it sounds beautiful, I’m surprised often by how simple some of the rules are (but more often by how insanely difficult and confusing they are), and it’s magical when written in songs. Certain words have already permeated our vocabulary. Yes and No don’t exist, they’ve been replaced with Yego and Oya. We’ve adopted “ntakibazo” (It’s not a problem) to mean everything from “no problem” to “It’s ok” to “don’t worry about it” to “I’m not sure what else to say so I’ll just say ntakibazo”. Learning “umujura“ means “thief“ and “umusazi” means “crazy person” gave way to “umucrazy” “umupunk” “umunerd” “umucreeper”, etc. I’m still attempting to track down the word that translates into “no foreigner will ever master our language,” but I wonder if maybe it’s only at the moment we learn that word that we’ve in fact mastered the language and are no longer foreigners at all.
Other Training Funness/You want me to do what at my site?/What’s a kitchen garden?
They said time and time again, be flexible. We try, we really do, but we’re also overzealous, overachieving, read past the original assignment, always do extra credit, students. Our technical training has been great, but I think each of us is worried at the lack of practical skills we’ve acquired, particularly considering I got my job description and they want me to focus on data management and IT management. Hey, I know how to use a computer just fine, but installing internet and anti-virus software is not listed as one of my current skills. I did however learn that a kitchen garden, while a garden, is not found in one’s kitchen. But regardless I plan on trying all of the different methods which include the traditional kitchen garden, a square meter garden, and a rice sack garden. Want to know more about each of these? Let me know! We’ve also had good introductions to HIV/AIDS, malaria, family planning, nutrition, health policy, health hierarchy, assessment tools, income generating activities; all within the context of Rwanda. Cultural sessions have focused on the role of gender and religion in Rwandan society, as well as Rwandan history, dress and cuisine. Then of course we’ve had the usual safety and security lectures and medical issues (yes, I got to be an “example” for parasitic issues, go me!). When I think back on how much we’ve accomplished during training my mind spins. Imagine how much more I’ll learn during the next two years!
The culture/Umuco mu Rwanda/A new way of life:
I’m slowly realizing and even more slowly accepting that things happen here in their own time, in their own way. Disorganization and confusion are everyday occurrences and considering I’ve never been one to like chaos or change, this has had quite an impact on me. Yet, I’m adapting well (or at least I hope I am) and am learning to love the people and culture here. Despite the tragic history, there is such kindness and love in everyone you meet. Yes, the neverending “muzungu”and “give me money” can get downright annoying, but the good definitely outweighs the bad. Religion defines them, their family defines them, their history defines them, music, song and dancing define them. They are dedicated to living, to making their lives better, and to making their children’s lives better.
Things that made me happy this week:
- Finishing up my amoeba meds, being hopefully amoeba free, and getting to eat normal food (aka not peanut butter toast!) and drink alcohol again.
- Spending an entire day watching a certain guilty pleasure television show.
- Cooking with the tech housies, dancing, giggling, thumb wrestling, and wallllll.eeeeeeee.
- New shirts from the market, for about a dollar each, found by the one and only Sonya.
- Doing really really well on my mock language test. Like really good. Yay!
- Getting a sweatshirt made by an umodozi (seamstress) with the local wax print fabric. Yes it’s giraffe print, yes it’s cliché, and yes I love it.
- Instant mashed potatoes. (After a solid week of toast and peanut butter, anything would taste good, but mashed potatoes tasted FANTASTIC)
- Fast internet, or at least fast enough to skype and voice chat with the States while surfing facebook.
- Giving my first presentation in only Kinyarwanda! Jessi and I spoke about nutrition to a group of Resource Families explaining the need for a balanced diet including energy rich foods “ibitera imbaraga”, protein rich body building foods “ibyubaka umubiri” and protective foods rich in vitamins and minerals “ibirinda indwara”. It was translated well, spoken well enough and they seemed to enjoy it. At the end we even had them use the food samples we had provided to “make a balanced meal” that contained each of the different food groups. Very fun, fairly stressful, and I even had to write a paper about it. Just like school.
- A new tattoo on my foot (don’t get too excited, it’s just permanent marker) and stress reliving backrub from A.J. Us Ohioans need to stick together!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
The many mysteries and truths about Rwanda
- Tea and coffee are Rwanda’s two biggest exports, yet we drink imported instant coffee and Kenyan tea more than anything else. Go figure.
- If you want to spot a goat, look for the nearest wooden log, because chances are they will all be crammed onto one. The most I saw was 3 goats on a 4 foot log. It defies reason and gravity.
- At the market, garlic cloves are sold pre-peeled and wrapped in plastic wrap. And they only cost about 10 cents. Talk about convenience.
- We learned a song to help us remember how to say the months of the year in Kinyarwanda. It only took us a couple of rounds to realize that the song tune was the same as My Darling Clementine. (*cue “It’s a small world after all” music*) After we had all learned it we were informed that while those were the traditional names for the months, no one ever really uses them. Thanks.
- I haven’t had any neck pain since I’ve arrived in Rwanda. My pillow is Rwandan Foam. I may have become a “believer” in the magic foam.
- There is a man at the market who sells shoe soles, but I have yet to see the rest of the shoe. Kinda makes you go hmmm.
- Our “brand new” “insecticide treated” mosquito nets seem to attract bugs more than repelling them. Seriously, it’s an issue when bugs land on your net and just hang out, particularly when they are mutant mosquitoes and flies the size of your thumb nail.
- In America, sweet potatoes are one of my favorite foods and tomatoes are one of my least favorite. In Rwanda, tomatoes are my favorite food and I can barely stomach the sweet potatoes. Don’t worry, I still love mashed potatoes. Always have. Always will.
- It’s true, Fanta is cheaper than water here. Sometimes beer is almost cheaper even. Produce is super cheap (I can get a bunch of bananas for around 40 cents and three avocadoes for 20 cents) but if you want good chocolate prepare to pay (mad papers, son - that‘s for you Sass and Jigga). I just spent $6 on a dark chocolate/hazelnut bar, but what I really wanted was the $12 bag of mini Twix’s. Send Twix. You’ll be my best friend.
- Rwandan hospitals aren’t that different than American hospitals, in case you were wondering.
And you may now be wondering why I know that last statement. Well it’s not because I visited one for my job, though I will visit a lot of them in the next two years for it. It’s because this last week, I was a patient. Let’s just say I’ve learned the quickest way to lose weight in Africa: parasites. Amoeba’s to be exact. Well I wasn’t technically diagnosed, but my best friend/roommate/girl I spend every waking and non waking moment with, Jessi, was found to have amoeba’s, and since we also eat exactly the same thing they used the power of deduction. We’re fairly certain we “acquired” them during a visit to Butare last Saturday, where we gorged ourselves on pizza and ice cream, neither of which I have any desire to have again in the near future. But don’t worry, we’re on very strong drugs and a diet of toast and peanut butter, so I’m hopeful that by this time next week I can be amoeba free. And until then I’ll continue sleeping a lot and loving what my mom has dubbed as “accelerated African weight loss”.
We’re close to two weeks away from the end of training, the much dreaded language placement interviews, and the much awaited Swear-In as official Peace Corps Volunteers. I can’t believe how fast it has flown by, but I’m eagerly anticipating shopping in Kigali for my house necessities as well as getting settled into Musanze and my position at Access.
I’d love to write more but I’ve been awake an hour and I think it’s time for a nap. Keep the updates coming and hope you’re starting to plan those vacations to the Land of a Thousand Hills!! I promise I'll do my best to make them amoeba free :)
- If you want to spot a goat, look for the nearest wooden log, because chances are they will all be crammed onto one. The most I saw was 3 goats on a 4 foot log. It defies reason and gravity.
- At the market, garlic cloves are sold pre-peeled and wrapped in plastic wrap. And they only cost about 10 cents. Talk about convenience.
- We learned a song to help us remember how to say the months of the year in Kinyarwanda. It only took us a couple of rounds to realize that the song tune was the same as My Darling Clementine. (*cue “It’s a small world after all” music*) After we had all learned it we were informed that while those were the traditional names for the months, no one ever really uses them. Thanks.
- I haven’t had any neck pain since I’ve arrived in Rwanda. My pillow is Rwandan Foam. I may have become a “believer” in the magic foam.
- There is a man at the market who sells shoe soles, but I have yet to see the rest of the shoe. Kinda makes you go hmmm.
- Our “brand new” “insecticide treated” mosquito nets seem to attract bugs more than repelling them. Seriously, it’s an issue when bugs land on your net and just hang out, particularly when they are mutant mosquitoes and flies the size of your thumb nail.
- In America, sweet potatoes are one of my favorite foods and tomatoes are one of my least favorite. In Rwanda, tomatoes are my favorite food and I can barely stomach the sweet potatoes. Don’t worry, I still love mashed potatoes. Always have. Always will.
- It’s true, Fanta is cheaper than water here. Sometimes beer is almost cheaper even. Produce is super cheap (I can get a bunch of bananas for around 40 cents and three avocadoes for 20 cents) but if you want good chocolate prepare to pay (mad papers, son - that‘s for you Sass and Jigga). I just spent $6 on a dark chocolate/hazelnut bar, but what I really wanted was the $12 bag of mini Twix’s. Send Twix. You’ll be my best friend.
- Rwandan hospitals aren’t that different than American hospitals, in case you were wondering.
And you may now be wondering why I know that last statement. Well it’s not because I visited one for my job, though I will visit a lot of them in the next two years for it. It’s because this last week, I was a patient. Let’s just say I’ve learned the quickest way to lose weight in Africa: parasites. Amoeba’s to be exact. Well I wasn’t technically diagnosed, but my best friend/roommate/girl I spend every waking and non waking moment with, Jessi, was found to have amoeba’s, and since we also eat exactly the same thing they used the power of deduction. We’re fairly certain we “acquired” them during a visit to Butare last Saturday, where we gorged ourselves on pizza and ice cream, neither of which I have any desire to have again in the near future. But don’t worry, we’re on very strong drugs and a diet of toast and peanut butter, so I’m hopeful that by this time next week I can be amoeba free. And until then I’ll continue sleeping a lot and loving what my mom has dubbed as “accelerated African weight loss”.
We’re close to two weeks away from the end of training, the much dreaded language placement interviews, and the much awaited Swear-In as official Peace Corps Volunteers. I can’t believe how fast it has flown by, but I’m eagerly anticipating shopping in Kigali for my house necessities as well as getting settled into Musanze and my position at Access.
I’d love to write more but I’ve been awake an hour and I think it’s time for a nap. Keep the updates coming and hope you’re starting to plan those vacations to the Land of a Thousand Hills!! I promise I'll do my best to make them amoeba free :)
Never forget. Never again.
As soon as my alarm went off, I knew the day would be different. It was more quiet, more somber, something unspoken was already in the air. We got ready in near silence, exchanging the usual “mwaramutse” and “amakuru” but not with the usual giggles or other pleasantries. I walked to school alone, allowing myself to feel the heaviness in the air. It was eerily quiet as I walked, I noticed the sound of my own footsteps. Despite the late hour the streets were close to empty. There were no motos or cars, very few people were milling around, and stores were shuttered. It was as if the entire country had taken a collective breath in, and was holding it. I passed people, attempted to meet their gaze, understood when I did not, and kept walking. Breakfast also passed in a haze, everyone wanting to say something but not having a clue what, and afraid to say the wrong thing.
It was the morning of April 7th, 16 years to the day after the genocide in Rwanda began.
After breakfast we walked towards the sector office and before we even reached it we were met by the procession. It must have stretched miles, with what seemed like the entire district, at least, in attendance. We joined the masses and slowly dispersed among them, the Americans melting into the Rwandans. We walked in silence, at times holding hands. We felt their emotions, we walked as one.
The march ended at a cemetery where prayers were offered in Kinyarwanda, and then moved to the stadium. There we sat with the blazing sun beating down on us all, and listened; we listened to the testimonies, the speakers, and the songs. There was a moment of silence at noon for all of the lives lost, followed by a speech by President Kagame that was piped over the loudspeakers. Despite the fact that we couldn’t understand what was said or sung, it was impossible to not know what they were saying, what they were feeling. I’ll never forget what I heard and saw. Sobbing, gasping for air, and screaming, at times women were rendered inconsolable. When it became too much they were walked out or in some cases carried. Often kicking, flailing or running, many had lost all ability to contain their emotions or even control of their bodies. Emotion had taken over; grief, sadness, anger and helplessness. It was so difficult to watch, and I found myself with my hand clutched over my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks as I held my knees to my chest. It’s heartbreaking to know so many people had lost so much, were remembering so much, were trying to forget and move past so much. What do you say to a person who lived through a genocide? What do you say to a person who lost their entire family? What do you say to a nation trying to move forward from something so dark, so evil? Nothing. You can’t say anything, you can’t do anything. I was silent.
This week has been a struggle. We have struggled to comprehend the enormity of what happened in this country in 1994. We have struggled with how to reconcile our own anger over the international community’s response (or rather, lack of response) to what was occurring. We have struggled with hearing the heartbreaking stories of loss and brave stories of survival of many of our Rwandan friends. We have struggled to grasp how despite all they’ve endured they can go on living, in some cases even next to those who did them wrong. But our struggles are nothing compared to theirs. Their strength, compassion, and resolve is awe-inspiring.
Never forget - never forget that it happened, never forget how it happened, never forget why it happened. And never again, never again, let it happen.
It was the morning of April 7th, 16 years to the day after the genocide in Rwanda began.
After breakfast we walked towards the sector office and before we even reached it we were met by the procession. It must have stretched miles, with what seemed like the entire district, at least, in attendance. We joined the masses and slowly dispersed among them, the Americans melting into the Rwandans. We walked in silence, at times holding hands. We felt their emotions, we walked as one.
The march ended at a cemetery where prayers were offered in Kinyarwanda, and then moved to the stadium. There we sat with the blazing sun beating down on us all, and listened; we listened to the testimonies, the speakers, and the songs. There was a moment of silence at noon for all of the lives lost, followed by a speech by President Kagame that was piped over the loudspeakers. Despite the fact that we couldn’t understand what was said or sung, it was impossible to not know what they were saying, what they were feeling. I’ll never forget what I heard and saw. Sobbing, gasping for air, and screaming, at times women were rendered inconsolable. When it became too much they were walked out or in some cases carried. Often kicking, flailing or running, many had lost all ability to contain their emotions or even control of their bodies. Emotion had taken over; grief, sadness, anger and helplessness. It was so difficult to watch, and I found myself with my hand clutched over my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks as I held my knees to my chest. It’s heartbreaking to know so many people had lost so much, were remembering so much, were trying to forget and move past so much. What do you say to a person who lived through a genocide? What do you say to a person who lost their entire family? What do you say to a nation trying to move forward from something so dark, so evil? Nothing. You can’t say anything, you can’t do anything. I was silent.
This week has been a struggle. We have struggled to comprehend the enormity of what happened in this country in 1994. We have struggled with how to reconcile our own anger over the international community’s response (or rather, lack of response) to what was occurring. We have struggled with hearing the heartbreaking stories of loss and brave stories of survival of many of our Rwandan friends. We have struggled to grasp how despite all they’ve endured they can go on living, in some cases even next to those who did them wrong. But our struggles are nothing compared to theirs. Their strength, compassion, and resolve is awe-inspiring.
Never forget - never forget that it happened, never forget how it happened, never forget why it happened. And never again, never again, let it happen.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Volcanoes, brochettes, buses and health centers, OH MY!
I’ve just returned from Musanze, my (hopefully) site for the next two years, where I stayed at my (hopefully) house for the next two years!! It was strange and marvelous and I’ve returned excited for the future and with even more determination about this entire experience.
We went to Kigali last Sunday for a two day Counterpart Conference, where we met with our organizations and our counterparts, the Rwandans we will be working with during our entire service. My counterpart’s name is Bertin and he is such an intelligent and genuine man; I feel extremely lucky and am excited to get to know him better and work with him during my time here.
On Tuesday we were to depart for Musanze, which as always happened on “Rwandan time” thanks to car issues, a major rainstorm, errands that had to be run at the Access headquarters, a brief tour of the bus depot in downtown Kigali, and rush hour traffic. But soon we were outside of the city limits. The daylight diminished as quickly as the sights of Kigali proper (and civilization for that matter). We weaved our way north, my friend Kitty and I in the back (along with all of our stuff and other Access materials we’d acquired), Dr. Paul (Kitty’s counterpart) and the driver in the front. The hills got bigger, the clouds lower, the rain heavier, and we still weaved. Soon we were in Gakenke, where we were dropping off Kitty (with Ahmed, a current volunteer) for her site visit. I of course stepped into a huge mud hole, then traipsed into Ahmed’s house, only to fall into a drainage ditch on my way out (Africa: 588, Amy: 0). By now it was 6:45pm and I was ready to get to Musanze (and in one piece preferably). The roads were wetter, it was pitch black and foggy, and past Gakenke the “paved” road had enough potholes to render it in mostly the same conditions as the dirt roads in Nyanza. So now I was 1) all alone, 2) driving on unfamiliar roads in the rain and 3) slightly terrified. I found myself awkwardly reciting Kinyarwanda phrases over and over in my head. Nitwa Amy (My name is Amy). Ndi umustajiyeri wa Peace Corps (I’m a Peace Corps Trainee). Nturuka Leta mu Ohio (I’m from the state of Ohio). Nkunda kubyina (I like to dance). Seriously, reciting. I caught myself slowly sounding out and repeating the word umukorerabushake (volunteer) to myself for a solid 5 minutes. So, apparently my body subconsciously determined its stress and anxiety release in Rwanda. But we finally arrived in Musanze and went to Jessica’s house (or what will hopefully be my house soon as well). Jessica is the current Access volunteer in Musanze and was given the pleasure/responsibility of showing me around town for the next few days.
So, the house. Is. Awesome. There’s a sturdy gate out front (that’s for you, mom and dad), has a decently sized living room and two bedrooms (aka most likely a guest room, for all of you brave souls who choose to visit!), a storage room and a bathroom. There’s electricity (that is less than reliable, especially during the rainy season) and running water (happy dance), though the water is quite frigid (I‘ll be doing the whole warm water bucket baths, me thinks). There’s an avocado tree and a garden and lots and lots of mosquitoes. The first night Jessica and I chatted about the town and work and had a lovely dinner of raw carrots and tea, supplemented by granola bars and chocolate. It may sound strange, but I immediately felt like I was home.
The next couple of days were filled with exploring the town of Musanze and learning more about Access and what my role will be there. Musanze is gorgeous; actually the word gorgeous doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s the 4th largest town in Rwanda (a little less than 100,000 people), with a sprawling downtown area, (my house is about a 20 minute walk from the center) a lovely market and pretty much any amenity I could need. I’ll still have to go into Kigali to get “Muzungu things”, aka different cuisines and American snacks, but that’s to be expected. Musanze is also the closest town to Volcanoes National Park and as such is blessed with a stunning backdrop of three of the most easterly volcanoes (Sabyinyo, Gahinga and Muhabura). Two of them are actually easily seen over the gate in my front yard (talk about a house with a view!); I’ll put up a photo when the internet cooperates.
We visited a couple of health centers where I met staff members, toured the facilities, and learned some about their processes and activities, as well as where I might fit in. It was quite interesting considering it was my first time seeing rural health centers, and my mind began churning with thoughts and ideas for projects. It was also a special treat to see the pharmacies at the health centers, knowing that SCMS, the project I worked on back in DC, was responsible for bringing a lot of those medications into Rwanda. I have so much more to write about the health centers, but I think I’ll save it for once I’m at site and am spending more time at them.
I also got the opportunity to meet a wonderful mix of Jessica’s hilarious, kind and generous friends. We ate dinner and hung out with a group of expats she’s befriended (with whom I’m sure I will have many good times with in the future), and visited her incredibly sweet Rwandan friend Janvier, who showered us with icyayi (tea), brochettes, fries, fruit and fanta. I attempted to follow their conversation, which was held solely in Kinyarwanda (and surprisingly understood a lot!), while we watched loud and hilarious Rwandan music videos on the television.
The rest of my site visit was spent reading (finished Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and started Shantaram), eating lots of homemade wheat bread toast with honey, seeing more of mu mugi (town) and attempting to sleep despite the horrible loud buzzing of all the mosquitoes (terrible idea to have forgotten my earplugs in Nyanza). All of us braved public transport to make our ways back to Kigali and then onto Nyanza. Maneuvering the bus system was actually far more uneventful than I originally anticipated, and I thoroughly appreciate the efficiency and cheapness of travel in Rwanda already. I met up with Kitty in Kigali for site visit gossip, over delicious and expensive (but money well spent) Indian food, of which I will be dreaming of and craving the garlic naan pretty much until I get my next fix.
So, I’m back in Nyanza now, enjoying a KitKat (it is Easter after all, and Easter isn’t complete without candy) and opening my newest package and letters (thanks to everyone who’s written, keep them coming!!). I must say, I just have a wonderful feeling of contentment and am feeling so comfortable here. I think the past week opened up my eyes and made me envision myself actually living here. Training has been amazing, but it does often feel like summer camp and it was so necessary to get out on my own and get a taste of what life after training will be like. And I must say, I loved every minute of it.
Fun facts/observations/highlights/things to make you go “hmmm”:
- On my first night in Musanze, Jessica and I were chatting about work and when we began discussing the language, what stood out most was when she said “It’s pretty much Kinyarwanda or bust around here”. Gives me some added resolve to study and practice a lot more, especially considering how amazing Jessica’s Kinyarwanda skills are.
- On my first morning Jessica and I were returning from the market and had stopped to unlock the front gate when we heard “Jessica na muzungu!!” being yelled behind by us by a group of children. We both looked at each other and burst into laughter. The kids had yelled “Jessica and the white person!”. Jessica was of course stoked that she had a name and was apparently not considered a white person anymore. I probably should have been offended but found the situation so hilarious that I couldn’t help but laugh. That, and hope that one day I’ll have a name as well.
- I got my first manicure in Africa. It was given to me by Grace, an eight year old neighbor of Jessica’s. In Crayola crayons. A beautiful, eclectic mix of pink, green and purple; I’m fairly certain that it will be the next big trend.
- Another of Jessica’s neighbors, Makayla (spelled wrong I’m sure) and I proved that you don’t have to speak to same language to play your very own card game. It pretty much consisted of dealing out all of the cards, taking turns picking one from each others hands, setting them down and seeing if there were any matches (fascinating I know..) But I used it as language practice, when we found two 8’s I would exclaim “umunani” followed by “eight“! Despite her young age (she couldn’t have been more than five) and the crazy muzungu talking to her, she giggled and nodded every time and soon enough was finding two 3’s and exclaiming “gatatu“! Later on she made my day: when Grace turned to me and said “nkunda Jessica” (I love Jessica), Makayla turned to me and grabbed my hand, saying ndagakunda (I love you). It was precious and pretty much made my heart melt.
- Jessica has adopted a kitten, aptly named Pilipili (after the a chili pepper that is found in the hot sauce we eat here). She’s adorable and crazy and reminds me more of a dog than a cat. I kept watching her noticing how similar to Charlotte she was. The way she skidded across the floor and attacked a rope or a ball (or my mosquito net, my hand, etc.) like it was her last act on earth. It was definitely nice to have a constant source of entertainment, particularly since she could easily squeeze under my door and therefore pretty much left me with no privacy whatsoever. She’s lucky she’s so cute.
- I sat next to a lovely girl named Paschal on my bus ride from Musanze to Kigali. She was 19 years old, a secondary school student in Musanze studying accounting/business, who was on her way to Kigali for her school vacation. I practiced Kinyarwanda, she practiced English, we resorted to a little French when it was necessary, and chatted pretty much the entire 2 hour ride to Kigali. The most fascinating part was when I asked her what she wanted to do after she graduated, did she want to open up her own business or go to university. No, she said frankly, I want to move to a monastery and become a nun. Huh? I asked her to repeat it, figuring I’d heard her wrong. But I had heard her correctly, and we spent the next 30 minutes discussing Catholicism, her faith and her calling to join the church. It was surreal and moving and fascinating discussing such a weighty topic with such a young woman. Her eyes lit up when I explained I was Catholic as well, and she kept thanking me for coming to work in and help her country. It was a moment where I felt truly lucky to be having this experience and meeting people like her, and I look forward to many more moments like it.
- I absolutely witnessed the unfailing kindness of strangers this week. From all of the random Rwandans who helped make sure I got the right bus ticket and on the right bus, to my new friend Paschal who shared everything from her chocolate to her juice to her bread with me (she kept saying, “I am so full, it makes me happy to share with you“), to the young man who rode all the way from Kigali to Nyanza with my backpack on his lap since there wasn’t any other room in the bus.
Miss you all!!!!!
We went to Kigali last Sunday for a two day Counterpart Conference, where we met with our organizations and our counterparts, the Rwandans we will be working with during our entire service. My counterpart’s name is Bertin and he is such an intelligent and genuine man; I feel extremely lucky and am excited to get to know him better and work with him during my time here.
On Tuesday we were to depart for Musanze, which as always happened on “Rwandan time” thanks to car issues, a major rainstorm, errands that had to be run at the Access headquarters, a brief tour of the bus depot in downtown Kigali, and rush hour traffic. But soon we were outside of the city limits. The daylight diminished as quickly as the sights of Kigali proper (and civilization for that matter). We weaved our way north, my friend Kitty and I in the back (along with all of our stuff and other Access materials we’d acquired), Dr. Paul (Kitty’s counterpart) and the driver in the front. The hills got bigger, the clouds lower, the rain heavier, and we still weaved. Soon we were in Gakenke, where we were dropping off Kitty (with Ahmed, a current volunteer) for her site visit. I of course stepped into a huge mud hole, then traipsed into Ahmed’s house, only to fall into a drainage ditch on my way out (Africa: 588, Amy: 0). By now it was 6:45pm and I was ready to get to Musanze (and in one piece preferably). The roads were wetter, it was pitch black and foggy, and past Gakenke the “paved” road had enough potholes to render it in mostly the same conditions as the dirt roads in Nyanza. So now I was 1) all alone, 2) driving on unfamiliar roads in the rain and 3) slightly terrified. I found myself awkwardly reciting Kinyarwanda phrases over and over in my head. Nitwa Amy (My name is Amy). Ndi umustajiyeri wa Peace Corps (I’m a Peace Corps Trainee). Nturuka Leta mu Ohio (I’m from the state of Ohio). Nkunda kubyina (I like to dance). Seriously, reciting. I caught myself slowly sounding out and repeating the word umukorerabushake (volunteer) to myself for a solid 5 minutes. So, apparently my body subconsciously determined its stress and anxiety release in Rwanda. But we finally arrived in Musanze and went to Jessica’s house (or what will hopefully be my house soon as well). Jessica is the current Access volunteer in Musanze and was given the pleasure/responsibility of showing me around town for the next few days.
So, the house. Is. Awesome. There’s a sturdy gate out front (that’s for you, mom and dad), has a decently sized living room and two bedrooms (aka most likely a guest room, for all of you brave souls who choose to visit!), a storage room and a bathroom. There’s electricity (that is less than reliable, especially during the rainy season) and running water (happy dance), though the water is quite frigid (I‘ll be doing the whole warm water bucket baths, me thinks). There’s an avocado tree and a garden and lots and lots of mosquitoes. The first night Jessica and I chatted about the town and work and had a lovely dinner of raw carrots and tea, supplemented by granola bars and chocolate. It may sound strange, but I immediately felt like I was home.
The next couple of days were filled with exploring the town of Musanze and learning more about Access and what my role will be there. Musanze is gorgeous; actually the word gorgeous doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s the 4th largest town in Rwanda (a little less than 100,000 people), with a sprawling downtown area, (my house is about a 20 minute walk from the center) a lovely market and pretty much any amenity I could need. I’ll still have to go into Kigali to get “Muzungu things”, aka different cuisines and American snacks, but that’s to be expected. Musanze is also the closest town to Volcanoes National Park and as such is blessed with a stunning backdrop of three of the most easterly volcanoes (Sabyinyo, Gahinga and Muhabura). Two of them are actually easily seen over the gate in my front yard (talk about a house with a view!); I’ll put up a photo when the internet cooperates.
We visited a couple of health centers where I met staff members, toured the facilities, and learned some about their processes and activities, as well as where I might fit in. It was quite interesting considering it was my first time seeing rural health centers, and my mind began churning with thoughts and ideas for projects. It was also a special treat to see the pharmacies at the health centers, knowing that SCMS, the project I worked on back in DC, was responsible for bringing a lot of those medications into Rwanda. I have so much more to write about the health centers, but I think I’ll save it for once I’m at site and am spending more time at them.
I also got the opportunity to meet a wonderful mix of Jessica’s hilarious, kind and generous friends. We ate dinner and hung out with a group of expats she’s befriended (with whom I’m sure I will have many good times with in the future), and visited her incredibly sweet Rwandan friend Janvier, who showered us with icyayi (tea), brochettes, fries, fruit and fanta. I attempted to follow their conversation, which was held solely in Kinyarwanda (and surprisingly understood a lot!), while we watched loud and hilarious Rwandan music videos on the television.
The rest of my site visit was spent reading (finished Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and started Shantaram), eating lots of homemade wheat bread toast with honey, seeing more of mu mugi (town) and attempting to sleep despite the horrible loud buzzing of all the mosquitoes (terrible idea to have forgotten my earplugs in Nyanza). All of us braved public transport to make our ways back to Kigali and then onto Nyanza. Maneuvering the bus system was actually far more uneventful than I originally anticipated, and I thoroughly appreciate the efficiency and cheapness of travel in Rwanda already. I met up with Kitty in Kigali for site visit gossip, over delicious and expensive (but money well spent) Indian food, of which I will be dreaming of and craving the garlic naan pretty much until I get my next fix.
So, I’m back in Nyanza now, enjoying a KitKat (it is Easter after all, and Easter isn’t complete without candy) and opening my newest package and letters (thanks to everyone who’s written, keep them coming!!). I must say, I just have a wonderful feeling of contentment and am feeling so comfortable here. I think the past week opened up my eyes and made me envision myself actually living here. Training has been amazing, but it does often feel like summer camp and it was so necessary to get out on my own and get a taste of what life after training will be like. And I must say, I loved every minute of it.
Fun facts/observations/highlights/things to make you go “hmmm”:
- On my first night in Musanze, Jessica and I were chatting about work and when we began discussing the language, what stood out most was when she said “It’s pretty much Kinyarwanda or bust around here”. Gives me some added resolve to study and practice a lot more, especially considering how amazing Jessica’s Kinyarwanda skills are.
- On my first morning Jessica and I were returning from the market and had stopped to unlock the front gate when we heard “Jessica na muzungu!!” being yelled behind by us by a group of children. We both looked at each other and burst into laughter. The kids had yelled “Jessica and the white person!”. Jessica was of course stoked that she had a name and was apparently not considered a white person anymore. I probably should have been offended but found the situation so hilarious that I couldn’t help but laugh. That, and hope that one day I’ll have a name as well.
- I got my first manicure in Africa. It was given to me by Grace, an eight year old neighbor of Jessica’s. In Crayola crayons. A beautiful, eclectic mix of pink, green and purple; I’m fairly certain that it will be the next big trend.
- Another of Jessica’s neighbors, Makayla (spelled wrong I’m sure) and I proved that you don’t have to speak to same language to play your very own card game. It pretty much consisted of dealing out all of the cards, taking turns picking one from each others hands, setting them down and seeing if there were any matches (fascinating I know..) But I used it as language practice, when we found two 8’s I would exclaim “umunani” followed by “eight“! Despite her young age (she couldn’t have been more than five) and the crazy muzungu talking to her, she giggled and nodded every time and soon enough was finding two 3’s and exclaiming “gatatu“! Later on she made my day: when Grace turned to me and said “nkunda Jessica” (I love Jessica), Makayla turned to me and grabbed my hand, saying ndagakunda (I love you). It was precious and pretty much made my heart melt.
- Jessica has adopted a kitten, aptly named Pilipili (after the a chili pepper that is found in the hot sauce we eat here). She’s adorable and crazy and reminds me more of a dog than a cat. I kept watching her noticing how similar to Charlotte she was. The way she skidded across the floor and attacked a rope or a ball (or my mosquito net, my hand, etc.) like it was her last act on earth. It was definitely nice to have a constant source of entertainment, particularly since she could easily squeeze under my door and therefore pretty much left me with no privacy whatsoever. She’s lucky she’s so cute.
- I sat next to a lovely girl named Paschal on my bus ride from Musanze to Kigali. She was 19 years old, a secondary school student in Musanze studying accounting/business, who was on her way to Kigali for her school vacation. I practiced Kinyarwanda, she practiced English, we resorted to a little French when it was necessary, and chatted pretty much the entire 2 hour ride to Kigali. The most fascinating part was when I asked her what she wanted to do after she graduated, did she want to open up her own business or go to university. No, she said frankly, I want to move to a monastery and become a nun. Huh? I asked her to repeat it, figuring I’d heard her wrong. But I had heard her correctly, and we spent the next 30 minutes discussing Catholicism, her faith and her calling to join the church. It was surreal and moving and fascinating discussing such a weighty topic with such a young woman. Her eyes lit up when I explained I was Catholic as well, and she kept thanking me for coming to work in and help her country. It was a moment where I felt truly lucky to be having this experience and meeting people like her, and I look forward to many more moments like it.
- I absolutely witnessed the unfailing kindness of strangers this week. From all of the random Rwandans who helped make sure I got the right bus ticket and on the right bus, to my new friend Paschal who shared everything from her chocolate to her juice to her bread with me (she kept saying, “I am so full, it makes me happy to share with you“), to the young man who rode all the way from Kigali to Nyanza with my backpack on his lap since there wasn’t any other room in the bus.
Miss you all!!!!!
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