Returning to my roots

As I pass the five month mark in Rwanda and two month mark at site, I thought it time to return to where it all began: The Southern Province. It was perfect timing too, as one of my friends in Musanze, Kelly, was hoping to see a bit more of the country before she goes back to America next month. With our other friend, Lauren, we planned an epic weekend touring Nyanza and Butare; there would be ice cream, there would be pork, there would be host family visits, there would be French baguette and there would be market exploration.

After spending Friday evening with Peace Corps friends bidding goodbye to one of our own, I met up with Lauren and Kelly in Kigali and boarded the always adventure-filled Volcano bus to Butare. As we drove out of Kigali, I was comforted by the familiar ride: familiar sights, familiar twists and turns in the road. And yet, as I gazed out the window, I couldn’t help but notice how brown everything was. To the non-Rwandan eye (or eye of someone who hasn’t lived in Rwanda for 5 months) it would still seem to be beautiful, green Rwanda. But for me, I saw the toll that dry season had taken; the effects were much harsher than they are even in Musanze, which still sees rain every couple of weeks. The bus continued hurtling down the road, carrying us on our way South. I settled into my iPod and staring out the window; Lauren settled in for a nap; and Kelly settled into a conversation with the Rwandan next to her. After an hour and a half, we passed the turnoff to Nyanza, so I knew we had anywhere from 30 to 45 minutes left on our journey (depending on how suicidal the driver was) and started to get excited. Two rows in front of us, a little boy was excited too. So excited he kept looking back at us, waving, smiling and giggling. We looked back, we waved back, we smiled back, we giggled back. Then all of a sudden, the boy was being passed back. To us. As he sat on Lauren’s lap, we started asking the usual questions. Witwa nde? (What is your name?) Ugiye he? (Where are you going?) Utuye I Kigali? (Do you live in Kigali?) Ufite imyaka n’angahe? (How old are you?) And wouldn’t you know, he started answering back to us in English. This little man, with the beautifully large brown eyes, answering in perfect English. His name was Gardise and he was five years old, though looked the size of maybe a 3 or 4 year old. He was a perfect angel and spent the rest of the trip flipping through a magazine, listening to music with the headphones of the Rwandan next to Kelly, and sleeping on Lauren’s lap. And then suddenly we were climbing the familiar hill and entering the town center of Butare.

The first people we saw were Jessica and Aime, who we’d been hoping to have lunch with, but instead had to settle for a quick five minute chat in the gas station parking lot before they boarded their bus to Kigali. After they left, we ventured across the street to Matar Supermarket and sat down for lunch at Cheers with Madison and Jacelyn, two PCV friends. Madison recommended the burrito, which wasn’t even on the menu, and although it was nothing like Chipotle (oh, Chipotle, how I miss thee!) it still did not disappoint. After lunch Madison showed us to the Africana hotel, where for $6 a person we got a room with a huge bed, private bathroom and even a small sitting room. Then we got to wandering. Our first stop: ice cream. Many of you probably know about the ice cream shop ( http://bluemarbledreams.wordpress.com/our-projects/inzozi-nziza-rwanda/ ) that opened in Butare, since it was opened by American’s who own a Brooklyn ice cream shop. It’s called Inzozi Nziza (which basically translates Sweet Dreams) uses local products and hired an all Rwandan women staff. Well we made it to the ice cream shop, but due to a city wide power outage, there was no ice cream to be had, although the carrot cake was delish! Afterwards, Jacelyn pointed us in the direction of the National University of Rwanda (NUR), nonchalantly mentioning that just past the campus there’s an arboretum, with monkeys. Huh? Monkeys you say? We were sold, and quickly walked down the road towards the university, in search of monkeys. NUR’s campus turned out to be beautiful; simple brick buildings tucked into grounds covered with towering trees, and a labyrinth of walking paths carving their way through green grass. As we were attempting to find the alleged “arboretum” Kelly turned to her right and exclaimed “monkey!!”. Sure enough, there were the monkeys, and not just a couple, but dozens of them! They were in the trees, they were in the grass, they were in the road, they were frolicking with the goats. There was a man and a small child there too, feeding them. We greeted them and I asked what he was feeding them. Ibumbati, he said; cassava. The little kid was playing with the monkeys, walking up to them and making growling noises at them, only to run away quickly giggling. The moment was perfect and soon we were surrounded by monkeys in every direction; I think I took enough pictures to cover an entire wall of my house with them.

After the monkey show, we returned to our hotel in town, to relax before finding dinner. That’s when I looked down and saw how ridiculously dirty my feet were. Thank you, dry season. I remarked that if you looked at just my feet I looked like a different ethnicity. Lauren and Kelly did not disagree. Needless to say, it was time to see if the shower worked.

Following our relaxation time, we met up with Lindsay, a current education PCV, at Igichumbas for beer and akabenzi! Akabenzi is pork; more like amazingly delicious pork, onions and spices that you order by the kilo and devour in less than five minutes. Wash it down with a room temperature Primus over some delightful conversation, and you have yourself a wonderful evening in Butare.

The next morning we caught an early bus to Nyanza, my old home. As we drove into town I was struck by a flurry of emotions; happy with how familiar it all looked, excited to show my friends around my old stomping grounds, nervous to see my host family again after a couple of months away. Our first stop was the French bakery in town, to buy a crunchy on the outside/soft on the inside three foot long baguette, for the grand total of about 60 cents. Baguette in hand, we wandered to Blue Bar, my old hangout bar from training, which was luckily open despite it being 9am on a Sunday. We ordered fantas, and began munching on our yummy breakfast, ignoring the stares of the two men drinking beer in the cabana next to us. After we ate I gave Lauren and Kelly a quick tour of town, showing them where our training center was, the road to my old house, the market, and the stores we frequented for Rwandan fabric, yogurt and Snickers. And then we were off to my host family’s house, after a quick stop for lollipops for the kiddies. Unfortunately, our timing wasn’t the best, as most of my family was at church, but I was still able to catch up with my mom, Jeanne, and two of my host brothers. It was nice to see them, to chat with them, and to realize I haven’t lost as much Kinyarwanda as I thought I had. The visit, while lovely, was too short, and after a quick photo op we boarded another Volcano bus bound for Kigali.

The final highlights of the trip included scrumptious coffee at Bourbon, buying out all of the earrings at the Kimironko market and making an unscheduled stop on the ride back to Musanze so that two passengers could scurry into the woods for a potty break. At home later that night, all I wanted was a hot bucket bath and a long night’s sleep, but I couldn’t help but reflect on the hilarious adventures from the weekend. It’s great to remember where I’ve been, all the things I’ve already done these past five months, and look ahead to the future. Future weekend trips, future new experiences, future work endeavors, future successes, future challenges. So, stay tuned to see what the future truly holds.