What would you do if you didn’t have access to a bank? No checking account, no savings account, no debit card or credit card. What if you suddenly found yourself in need of money to pay for health care or school tuition or a funeral, but the nearest bank is hours away and your chances of even qualifying for a loan are slim to none.
The majority of Rwandans find themselves in this position. Banks are few, lines are long, and processes are complicated. Loan applications are long and complex, require abundant evidence of your assets and ability to repay, and can be an extremely long process. Just like in America, Rwandans want financial security. They want to be able to manage their household income and borrow money if and when they need it. As they earn income from farming or handicraft sales they want to be able to save their money in hopes that down the road they can purchase a goat, a cow, or fertilizer to improve their crop yield. Yet, they do not have the luxury of having a bank in every town, an ATM around every corner, low interest rates, etc. So what do they do? Like for so many other things, they come together as a community, pool their money into savings and allow members to access small scale loans in times of need. What they have been able to do on the community level with cooperatives and internal savings and lending groups (ISLGs) is downright impressive.
Today we were able to visit one of these groups, a cooperative named Working Together located outside of Butare, Rwanda. The group is made up of 30 community members, 24 women and 6 men. Every two weeks the group meets and each member must contribute 200 Rwandan francs (the equivalent of about 36 cents) to a pool of money that is kept in a wooden or metal box by the treasurer (unless the groups pool gets too large and then they usually open an actual bank account with a microfinance institution or Rwandan bank). The box has three locks and while the treasurer has a key to one lock, two other members of the Co-op have the other keys; this ensures transparency, and limited corruption and misuse of the co-ops funds as the box can only be opened with all members are present. Working Together has pulled together 215,000 RWF, and members can access this money in the form of loans at any time as long as they are an active member of the co-op and have a good financial standing within the co-op. The purpose of the loan must be clear (school fees, medical bills, etc) and must be repaid within 2 months plus interest. Interest rates vary among co-ops/ISLGs but Working Together charges 5% interest, regardless of the amount loaned. The profit made on the interest goes back into the pooled account, continuously increasing the group’s savings. From what I gathered the co-op also uses some of the savings to purchase seeds and plant communal food crops that they sell on the local market.
This was just one group and thousands exist in Rwanda, many focusing on only savings and lending, which is what we’re focusing on this week. But throughout training we’ll be exposed to other cooperatives, which focus on farming and other income generating activities, and many of which bring together particular subpopulations: OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children), women, and PLWHA (people living with HIV/AIDS). But it is fascinating to see the extent to which communities are coming together to solve their own problems, and it is this community based development that we will be jumping into at our sites starting in May.
So, next time you throw down that credit card or stop by an ATM, think about how lucky you are. Think about if those resources and institutions didn’t exist. What would you do?
In other news, training is chugging along. I haven’t received the results of my first Kinyrwanda test, but I feel like I’m mastering how to 1) introduce myself, 2) talk about my family, 3) identify items and bargain in the market, 4) count and 5) talk about happy and unhappy events. So yeah, I can converse with most 2 year olds, but that’s about it. We were able to coerce our handlers to take us into Butare for lunch today and I splurged on a chocolate milkshake and grilled ham and cheese sandwich. It was pretty much divine, particularly remembering what really cold beverages taste like (regardless of the fact that the “milkshake” was actually just cold chocolate milk)!! We’re going to Nyungwe National Park on Saturday for hiking and monkey trekking! It’s a couple of hours southwest of Nyanza, provides water to 70% of Rwanda and actually holds a spring that is currently believed to be the most remote source of the Nile. I’m excited to get out and enjoy more of Rwanda, particularly considering it involves waterfalls, birds and primates.
So that’s it for now, until next time…
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
All it takes is a butterfly.
(Note: Apologies in advance for the graphic details in what I’ve written below. It is what I’m experiencing here and I feel the need to share it, but realize it might not be suitable for everyone to read.)
I want to write about all of the amazingly enjoyable moments I’m having here; but I can’t. I want to write about how great I did on my first language simulation this morning; but I can’t. I want to write about how comical something as simple as attempting to eat at a restaurant in Rwanda is; but I can’t. Right now, the only thing I can even fathom writing about is one of the events that occurred in this country in 1994. It is quite easy to forget about Rwanda’s past, even while living here. Everyone smiles and laughs and goes about their business; life goes on. But then there are days like today; days that force me realize where I am and what occurred. We traveled down to Butare (about an hour south of Nyanza) to visit the Murambi genocide memorial. In April of 1994, about 50,000 people sought refuge at the Murambi technical school. They were told by government and church officials that they would be safe from the genocidaires there and be provided with food and water. But it was actually a calculated plan of extermination, as the genocidaires attacked and within four days everyone, men women and children, were slaughtered and interred in mass graves. Since 1995, around 30,000 bodies have been exhumed and 2,000 have been preserved with lime and laid in the same rooms of the technical school that they huddled together in for protection. Those are the facts, but nothing can prepare you for walking through such a place.
It was silent as we walked through each room, with only the sounds of quiet footsteps to cut the air. It was impossible to breathe; the stench, a mixture of decay and chemicals, permeated everywhere. Emaciated and mangled, the bodies were literally frozen in time; babies, children, women and men, many in the positions their bodies fell into as they were killed. Women still clutching babies, men defensively curled up into balls, a young boy with a hand outstretched towards a hole in his skull. In each room, a table held a bouquet of flowers. On one table a poem asked that the children be able to sleep in peace. I was face to face with the evidence of genocide and in a moment like that it is impossible to not react. It began with a tear and soon I was gasping for air as I held back sobs. I couldn’t stop the tears, though I didn’t want to. There are no words to express how I felt or what I was thinking, and I don’t think I could type them here even if I could find the words; but at that moment something happened. A Rwandan woman who works at the memorial grabbed my hand, pulled me from the room, and held me as I cried. It is inconceivable to me how this woman who was personally touched by the genocide was able and willing to comfort me, considering I was a world away when it occurred and in all honesty had no idea it was happening. She held my hand as we walked from room to room and I could literally feel her strength and her desire for me to feel it too. I will never forget her face or what she did for me today.
You know those moments when you feel the universe just gives you signs? I’ve been having several of those recently, and they’ve all involved a butterfly. I was incredibly close to my grandfather, and was severely affected when he passed away when I was in 8th grade. During his funeral there was a butterfly that landed on his urn and then fluttered over to my grandmother before flying away. I remember my parents telling me that my grandfather’s spirit was now in that butterfly and that whenever I needed him he’d be there. Throughout my life, butterflies have had a strange way of always showing up at the times when I need encouragement the most. Even things as simple as a picture of one will give me a sense of inner strength not there before. To say the past few weeks have been difficult and frustrating is an understatement, and two days ago I was badly in need of encouragement. We were walking back to our training center and all of a sudden what had to have been a hundred butterflies were suddenly flying over our heads. I’ve never seen anything like it, and probably never will again. All we could do was stop and stare at how incredibly odd and beautiful it was. But for me it was so much more; it was exactly what I needed at exactly the right moment.
Today, as I stood in a field where 16 years ago thousands of people had hid in hopes of survival, I was overcome with emotion. And at that moment, I saw it: a yellow butterfly. It flew past me, landed on the grass, paused a moment and then flew away. Sometimes that’s all it takes to remind me that I’m not alone; that this is where I’m supposed to be and that I have the strength and determination to do this. I just hope that during the next two years when the road is bumpy and I can’t find the good in things anymore that I will look up and see just one more butterfly.
Thank you for reading this, I know it’s difficult, but I want to share all of my experiences with you, good and bad, mundane or life changing. And thank you for all the comments and words of encouragement, and please keep them coming. You have no idea the positive effect they’ve had on me already during my time here. I’ll write of happier things soon, but until next time, I will just say “muri mumutima wanjye” (you are all in my heart).
I want to write about all of the amazingly enjoyable moments I’m having here; but I can’t. I want to write about how great I did on my first language simulation this morning; but I can’t. I want to write about how comical something as simple as attempting to eat at a restaurant in Rwanda is; but I can’t. Right now, the only thing I can even fathom writing about is one of the events that occurred in this country in 1994. It is quite easy to forget about Rwanda’s past, even while living here. Everyone smiles and laughs and goes about their business; life goes on. But then there are days like today; days that force me realize where I am and what occurred. We traveled down to Butare (about an hour south of Nyanza) to visit the Murambi genocide memorial. In April of 1994, about 50,000 people sought refuge at the Murambi technical school. They were told by government and church officials that they would be safe from the genocidaires there and be provided with food and water. But it was actually a calculated plan of extermination, as the genocidaires attacked and within four days everyone, men women and children, were slaughtered and interred in mass graves. Since 1995, around 30,000 bodies have been exhumed and 2,000 have been preserved with lime and laid in the same rooms of the technical school that they huddled together in for protection. Those are the facts, but nothing can prepare you for walking through such a place.
It was silent as we walked through each room, with only the sounds of quiet footsteps to cut the air. It was impossible to breathe; the stench, a mixture of decay and chemicals, permeated everywhere. Emaciated and mangled, the bodies were literally frozen in time; babies, children, women and men, many in the positions their bodies fell into as they were killed. Women still clutching babies, men defensively curled up into balls, a young boy with a hand outstretched towards a hole in his skull. In each room, a table held a bouquet of flowers. On one table a poem asked that the children be able to sleep in peace. I was face to face with the evidence of genocide and in a moment like that it is impossible to not react. It began with a tear and soon I was gasping for air as I held back sobs. I couldn’t stop the tears, though I didn’t want to. There are no words to express how I felt or what I was thinking, and I don’t think I could type them here even if I could find the words; but at that moment something happened. A Rwandan woman who works at the memorial grabbed my hand, pulled me from the room, and held me as I cried. It is inconceivable to me how this woman who was personally touched by the genocide was able and willing to comfort me, considering I was a world away when it occurred and in all honesty had no idea it was happening. She held my hand as we walked from room to room and I could literally feel her strength and her desire for me to feel it too. I will never forget her face or what she did for me today.
You know those moments when you feel the universe just gives you signs? I’ve been having several of those recently, and they’ve all involved a butterfly. I was incredibly close to my grandfather, and was severely affected when he passed away when I was in 8th grade. During his funeral there was a butterfly that landed on his urn and then fluttered over to my grandmother before flying away. I remember my parents telling me that my grandfather’s spirit was now in that butterfly and that whenever I needed him he’d be there. Throughout my life, butterflies have had a strange way of always showing up at the times when I need encouragement the most. Even things as simple as a picture of one will give me a sense of inner strength not there before. To say the past few weeks have been difficult and frustrating is an understatement, and two days ago I was badly in need of encouragement. We were walking back to our training center and all of a sudden what had to have been a hundred butterflies were suddenly flying over our heads. I’ve never seen anything like it, and probably never will again. All we could do was stop and stare at how incredibly odd and beautiful it was. But for me it was so much more; it was exactly what I needed at exactly the right moment.
Today, as I stood in a field where 16 years ago thousands of people had hid in hopes of survival, I was overcome with emotion. And at that moment, I saw it: a yellow butterfly. It flew past me, landed on the grass, paused a moment and then flew away. Sometimes that’s all it takes to remind me that I’m not alone; that this is where I’m supposed to be and that I have the strength and determination to do this. I just hope that during the next two years when the road is bumpy and I can’t find the good in things anymore that I will look up and see just one more butterfly.
Thank you for reading this, I know it’s difficult, but I want to share all of my experiences with you, good and bad, mundane or life changing. And thank you for all the comments and words of encouragement, and please keep them coming. You have no idea the positive effect they’ve had on me already during my time here. I’ll write of happier things soon, but until next time, I will just say “muri mumutima wanjye” (you are all in my heart).
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
“I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine.” – Caskie Stinnett
Let’s call this “the week of many firsts”. First bout of sickness (don’t worry, I’m pretty much all better now). First time eating Rwandan “pizza” (can’t say I’d recommend it). First time running in Rwanda (and barely living through it). First celebration of a national holiday (International Women’s Day, to be exact). First time attempting to learn traditional Rwandan dance moves (with moderate success). And the first time completing tasks that in America we don’t think twice about but here become “time consuming necessities” (hmm, making water drinkable, doing laundry, planning to cook ourselves dinner).
Yesterday (March 8) was International Women’s Day (yay women!), a day that in the US seems pretty much forgotten. But here in Rwanda, it’s a national holiday. We were invited to the Nyanza stadium for a celebration that included speeches by local community members and dancing by two traditional Rwandan dance groups. But before the event could even start, we were pulled onto the field by a group of secondary students to dance; I wonder how many people’s days were made by watching the crazy “abazungu” attempt African dance moves. I know mine was. The speeches were of course difficult to follow considering they were in a language of which I’ve barely achieved the vocabulary of a 2 year old. But luckily, the language of dance is universal. I was entranced and am determined to discover the secret to move like these people do. If only I’d been able to capture it on video for you, it’s really almost impossible to describe. Their feet and legs keep time, but their torsos and arms almost seem disjointed from their bodies and are telling a completely different story. The women’s overall movement and in particular the use of their arms is (while strong) extremely fluid and calculated. The men, on the other hand, are more abrupt and rigid and use their heads more often to change the course of their movements. I truly couldn’t look away.
That night we held our own commemoration of the day; a few of us explained the history of international women’s day and shared some statistics on women around the world and in Rwanda. For instance, did you know that the Rwandan constitution states that women must compose 30% of posts with decision making power, but as of 2008, more than 48% of its legislature is female? After a brief but informative discussion on the role of women throughout different cultures, we got down to the real business: Primus drinking and more dancing. There are no words for how happy nights like those make me, and I think people immediately understand me a bit more after seeing me dance and how content it makes me. Particularly now that I have mastered “the Felicien”. Felicien, our language training manager, has a dance style unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. But with enough watching and mimic-ing, I was finally able to conquer it, and the two of us dancing became quite the spectacle.
I realize now why Peace Corps told us not to bring a lot of clothes. Because once you start having to wash all of them by hand, you wish that your wardrobe is tiny. There is a technique to it, a technique which seems to be second nature to all Rwandans, but one we Americans are completely devoid of. All I know is it took me the better part of an hour to wash 3 pairs of shorts and 3 shirts, and I had to rinse everything 4 times when I’ve been told it should only need to be done twice. There was only one casualty: my $8 Kmart watch. Fearful that it might get wet, I decided to take it off (yay me!). Note to self, when removing watch remember 1) to not have soapy, wet hands and 2) not to remove it over a bucket of water. RIP little isaha. Good thing I can find another one in the market for about $1. Anyways, there is certainly some satisfaction found in looking at clothes strewn over the clothesline and realizing the work that I put into it. That, and I won’t smell bad. Hopefully.
Today something special happened. I was given a Rwandan name. Felicien bestowed it upon me, and I hope it sticks because I kind of love it. Muraho, nitwa Umugwaneza. (Hello, my name is Umugwaneza). Umugwaneza, you ask? It roughly translates to “one who helps others, one who does good things; one who has goodness in their heart”. I was incredibly touched when I found out what it meant and hope that I can remain true to and live up to the name.
Much more to say, but I’ve got to get over to my resource family, as my host brother, Jacques, just called to say “we’re waiting for you!” Some happy things below for your enjoyment. Hope all is happy and well in your world!
Things that make me happy this week:
1) Filtered water that doesn’t actually taste like filtered water.
2) When random children walk up to me on the street, say “good morning”, grab my hand and walk with me down the road.
3) COLD Primus.
4) Peace Corps dance parties.
5) There’s a certain spot in our back courtyard that smells like cow manure. While most people would hate this, it secretly happily reminds me of home.
6) Having clean clothes by using only a bucket, water, a bar of laundry soap, and a lot of scrubbing.
7) Fresh baked bread/rolls from the local bakery, conveniently located in the same building as the only Nyanza petrol station.
8) When I feel that completing 4 sentences with a 10 year old is a successful Kinyarwanda conversation.
9) Only thing better than being a crazy “umuzungu” walking down the street is being a crazy “umuzungu” running down the street.
10) Stopping for a second, taking a deep breath, looking around and appreciating the land of a thousand hills.
Yesterday (March 8) was International Women’s Day (yay women!), a day that in the US seems pretty much forgotten. But here in Rwanda, it’s a national holiday. We were invited to the Nyanza stadium for a celebration that included speeches by local community members and dancing by two traditional Rwandan dance groups. But before the event could even start, we were pulled onto the field by a group of secondary students to dance; I wonder how many people’s days were made by watching the crazy “abazungu” attempt African dance moves. I know mine was. The speeches were of course difficult to follow considering they were in a language of which I’ve barely achieved the vocabulary of a 2 year old. But luckily, the language of dance is universal. I was entranced and am determined to discover the secret to move like these people do. If only I’d been able to capture it on video for you, it’s really almost impossible to describe. Their feet and legs keep time, but their torsos and arms almost seem disjointed from their bodies and are telling a completely different story. The women’s overall movement and in particular the use of their arms is (while strong) extremely fluid and calculated. The men, on the other hand, are more abrupt and rigid and use their heads more often to change the course of their movements. I truly couldn’t look away.
That night we held our own commemoration of the day; a few of us explained the history of international women’s day and shared some statistics on women around the world and in Rwanda. For instance, did you know that the Rwandan constitution states that women must compose 30% of posts with decision making power, but as of 2008, more than 48% of its legislature is female? After a brief but informative discussion on the role of women throughout different cultures, we got down to the real business: Primus drinking and more dancing. There are no words for how happy nights like those make me, and I think people immediately understand me a bit more after seeing me dance and how content it makes me. Particularly now that I have mastered “the Felicien”. Felicien, our language training manager, has a dance style unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. But with enough watching and mimic-ing, I was finally able to conquer it, and the two of us dancing became quite the spectacle.
I realize now why Peace Corps told us not to bring a lot of clothes. Because once you start having to wash all of them by hand, you wish that your wardrobe is tiny. There is a technique to it, a technique which seems to be second nature to all Rwandans, but one we Americans are completely devoid of. All I know is it took me the better part of an hour to wash 3 pairs of shorts and 3 shirts, and I had to rinse everything 4 times when I’ve been told it should only need to be done twice. There was only one casualty: my $8 Kmart watch. Fearful that it might get wet, I decided to take it off (yay me!). Note to self, when removing watch remember 1) to not have soapy, wet hands and 2) not to remove it over a bucket of water. RIP little isaha. Good thing I can find another one in the market for about $1. Anyways, there is certainly some satisfaction found in looking at clothes strewn over the clothesline and realizing the work that I put into it. That, and I won’t smell bad. Hopefully.
Today something special happened. I was given a Rwandan name. Felicien bestowed it upon me, and I hope it sticks because I kind of love it. Muraho, nitwa Umugwaneza. (Hello, my name is Umugwaneza). Umugwaneza, you ask? It roughly translates to “one who helps others, one who does good things; one who has goodness in their heart”. I was incredibly touched when I found out what it meant and hope that I can remain true to and live up to the name.
Much more to say, but I’ve got to get over to my resource family, as my host brother, Jacques, just called to say “we’re waiting for you!” Some happy things below for your enjoyment. Hope all is happy and well in your world!
Things that make me happy this week:
1) Filtered water that doesn’t actually taste like filtered water.
2) When random children walk up to me on the street, say “good morning”, grab my hand and walk with me down the road.
3) COLD Primus.
4) Peace Corps dance parties.
5) There’s a certain spot in our back courtyard that smells like cow manure. While most people would hate this, it secretly happily reminds me of home.
6) Having clean clothes by using only a bucket, water, a bar of laundry soap, and a lot of scrubbing.
7) Fresh baked bread/rolls from the local bakery, conveniently located in the same building as the only Nyanza petrol station.
8) When I feel that completing 4 sentences with a 10 year old is a successful Kinyarwanda conversation.
9) Only thing better than being a crazy “umuzungu” walking down the street is being a crazy “umuzungu” running down the street.
10) Stopping for a second, taking a deep breath, looking around and appreciating the land of a thousand hills.
Friday, March 5, 2010
“Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I swear everyday I’m here feels like a week in Rwandan time. I get up between 5:30 and 6 every morning (those of you who know I’m not a morning person, please close your mouths from the shock) and we have class from 8am till at least 5pm, with usually 4 hours of Kinyarwanda lessons. After only 3 days I already feel that I’m picking it up quickly (apparently this “immersion” thing really does work!) though my resource family loves to point out my “English accent”. The rest of our classes are centered on technical training and personal health and safety. The technical training seems to be broadly focused, with sessions on the Rwandan health system, infection diseases, income generating activities, nutrition and family planning. Don’t worry, PMUers, we’re also doing a lot on Monitoring and Evaluation and conducting needs assessments!
Oh! My resource family! Where do I even start? First, they’re beautiful. Once we’re more comfortable with each other hopefully I can take some photos. My mom’s name is Jeanne and my dad is Alexi (though I haven’t met him yet). Jeanne sells clothing (umucuruzi we miende) at the Nyanza clothing market and he works in electricity of some sort (we struggled for the translation for awhile and I’m still perplexed). They have four children: Clement (age 10), Kevine (age 8), Carve (age 6) and Karine (age 2). When Jeanne and I were walking up to their house yesterday afternoon, Karine came running down the road and right into my legs for a hug (unbelievably adorable and of course she spent the rest of my time there giggling with her face in her mother’s lap). There are also two other children in the family, Jacques and Josine. Jacque is 25, speaks fairly good English and goes back to university in Kigali on Sunday. Jeanne did not mention them when I first met her and I didn’t want to pry, but did ask how they were related. Jacques did not go into specifics, but one can only imagine what his answer might be (another reminder that the genocide is a constant subtle undertone here, in every aspect of life). They thoroughly enjoyed the lollipops and postcards I brought of DC, as well as the photos of my family and friends (Mom and Dad, they said you were “beautiful”!). I’m going back on Saturday and look forward to learning much more about them and from them during my time in Nyanza.
We had interviews with our Associate Peace Corps Director (APCD) to discuss our academic/professional backgrounds and any preferences we have for our site placement. 70% of the sites are with community- based or faith-based organizations, with the remaining 30% at health organizations. The health organizations are mainly hospitals and health clinics and the majority of our work would be focused on capacity building of the Rwandan staff (training in everything from patient recordkeeping to database management to accounting to monitoring and evaluation to health education). While I did state a preference for a health organization, I want to remain entirely flexible and will be ecstatic with whatever placement I get I’m sure. But speaking of site placements, we will actually find out what they are by the end of March!! This is much sooner than I had expected and means that unlike the last group of PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees, learn the lingo!) our “site visits” in early April will actually be to our permanent sites. This way I’ll get to see my town and meet my coworkers and supervisor well in advance of when I actually begin work, and get an idea of what kind of house I’ll have!
My APCD also asked us preferences about electricity and water and I surprisingly found myself saying I had no preference. I know it’s only been a week but I don’t even think twice about cold bucket showers or using the pit latrine. I may even secretly enjoy it. I might need to rethink the electricity part, but the majority of current volunteers have electricity at least part of the day so fingers crossed on that one.
Did I mention that they feed us all the time? My brother keeps asking me how much cassava I’m eating and I keep telling him the answer is “none”. Let’s just say I’m extremely glad that I have a 20 minute walk to and from class since while we do have a lot of vegetables, starch is definitely the star of our plates. So what are we eating? Well, breakfast is usually bread (or yummy croissant shaped rolls) with peanut butter, honey or jam; either eggs (read: “omelets” with more onion than egg) or fruit (passion fruit, tree tomatoes, bananas or avocadoes); and coffee and tea. Lunch and dinner are usually pretty similar. We’ve had everything: spaghetti and meatballs (with a definite African twist), goat, chicken (or possibly rabbit, today’s lunch was unidentifiable), always accompanied by some kind of potato (most often fried) or rice and vegetables. Amazing, fantastic, yummy veggies; seriously we’ve had carrots, spinach, eggplant, cabbage, green beans, tomatoes, peppers, sweet potatoes, and many other Rwandan specialties I can’t even begin to say the name of. Oh they also have an endless supply of samosas and other fried dough for our 10am “tea break”. Regardless, the food is really good, and I can’t wait till they begin to show us how to cook it ourselves. Let’s just say, if you come visit, I promise you won’t go hungry!
Tonight we had our welcoming ceremony with the Nyanza district authorities including the Mayor of Nyanza and the Police Commander. All of the speeches were extremely eloquent and reminded me how much it means for us to even be here. Peace Corps’ return to Rwanda was not taken lightly and it is a testament to this nation’s determination and hope for the future. Mup (our training manager) was beaming the entire time and his speech explained how proud he was of us and our decision to commit 27 months of our lives to the country of Rwanda. I haven’t mentioned Mup yet, but he’s pretty much fantastic. So happy and so motivated and really makes us feel loved and supported. I feel privileged to be here and hope that we can live up to the high expectations they’ve set for us.
AH! I have so much more I want to write, but I know I have many many more blog posts in which to do it. So I think I’ll stop rambling and just say Murabeho and until next time…
Oh! My resource family! Where do I even start? First, they’re beautiful. Once we’re more comfortable with each other hopefully I can take some photos. My mom’s name is Jeanne and my dad is Alexi (though I haven’t met him yet). Jeanne sells clothing (umucuruzi we miende) at the Nyanza clothing market and he works in electricity of some sort (we struggled for the translation for awhile and I’m still perplexed). They have four children: Clement (age 10), Kevine (age 8), Carve (age 6) and Karine (age 2). When Jeanne and I were walking up to their house yesterday afternoon, Karine came running down the road and right into my legs for a hug (unbelievably adorable and of course she spent the rest of my time there giggling with her face in her mother’s lap). There are also two other children in the family, Jacques and Josine. Jacque is 25, speaks fairly good English and goes back to university in Kigali on Sunday. Jeanne did not mention them when I first met her and I didn’t want to pry, but did ask how they were related. Jacques did not go into specifics, but one can only imagine what his answer might be (another reminder that the genocide is a constant subtle undertone here, in every aspect of life). They thoroughly enjoyed the lollipops and postcards I brought of DC, as well as the photos of my family and friends (Mom and Dad, they said you were “beautiful”!). I’m going back on Saturday and look forward to learning much more about them and from them during my time in Nyanza.
We had interviews with our Associate Peace Corps Director (APCD) to discuss our academic/professional backgrounds and any preferences we have for our site placement. 70% of the sites are with community- based or faith-based organizations, with the remaining 30% at health organizations. The health organizations are mainly hospitals and health clinics and the majority of our work would be focused on capacity building of the Rwandan staff (training in everything from patient recordkeeping to database management to accounting to monitoring and evaluation to health education). While I did state a preference for a health organization, I want to remain entirely flexible and will be ecstatic with whatever placement I get I’m sure. But speaking of site placements, we will actually find out what they are by the end of March!! This is much sooner than I had expected and means that unlike the last group of PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees, learn the lingo!) our “site visits” in early April will actually be to our permanent sites. This way I’ll get to see my town and meet my coworkers and supervisor well in advance of when I actually begin work, and get an idea of what kind of house I’ll have!
My APCD also asked us preferences about electricity and water and I surprisingly found myself saying I had no preference. I know it’s only been a week but I don’t even think twice about cold bucket showers or using the pit latrine. I may even secretly enjoy it. I might need to rethink the electricity part, but the majority of current volunteers have electricity at least part of the day so fingers crossed on that one.
Did I mention that they feed us all the time? My brother keeps asking me how much cassava I’m eating and I keep telling him the answer is “none”. Let’s just say I’m extremely glad that I have a 20 minute walk to and from class since while we do have a lot of vegetables, starch is definitely the star of our plates. So what are we eating? Well, breakfast is usually bread (or yummy croissant shaped rolls) with peanut butter, honey or jam; either eggs (read: “omelets” with more onion than egg) or fruit (passion fruit, tree tomatoes, bananas or avocadoes); and coffee and tea. Lunch and dinner are usually pretty similar. We’ve had everything: spaghetti and meatballs (with a definite African twist), goat, chicken (or possibly rabbit, today’s lunch was unidentifiable), always accompanied by some kind of potato (most often fried) or rice and vegetables. Amazing, fantastic, yummy veggies; seriously we’ve had carrots, spinach, eggplant, cabbage, green beans, tomatoes, peppers, sweet potatoes, and many other Rwandan specialties I can’t even begin to say the name of. Oh they also have an endless supply of samosas and other fried dough for our 10am “tea break”. Regardless, the food is really good, and I can’t wait till they begin to show us how to cook it ourselves. Let’s just say, if you come visit, I promise you won’t go hungry!
Tonight we had our welcoming ceremony with the Nyanza district authorities including the Mayor of Nyanza and the Police Commander. All of the speeches were extremely eloquent and reminded me how much it means for us to even be here. Peace Corps’ return to Rwanda was not taken lightly and it is a testament to this nation’s determination and hope for the future. Mup (our training manager) was beaming the entire time and his speech explained how proud he was of us and our decision to commit 27 months of our lives to the country of Rwanda. I haven’t mentioned Mup yet, but he’s pretty much fantastic. So happy and so motivated and really makes us feel loved and supported. I feel privileged to be here and hope that we can live up to the high expectations they’ve set for us.
AH! I have so much more I want to write, but I know I have many many more blog posts in which to do it. So I think I’ll stop rambling and just say Murabeho and until next time…
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
"Adventure is worthwhile." -Amelia Earhart
Muraho! Amakuru? Ni meza. Nkaba ndi umukorerabushake wa Peace Corps. Ntuye muri aka karere ka Nyanza. Murakoze, murabeho! (One official day of Kinyarwanda lessons and I’ve gotten this down: “Hello! How are you? I’m fine. I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. I live in Nyanza district. Thank you, goodbye!” Not bad, eh?)
At dinner tonight (while full of rice, beans, GUACAMOLE, and tree tomatoes) a few of us realized we have been Peace Corps Trainees for a week, though it feels as though I’ve already been in Rwanda for months. But I figure the one week mark deserves my first blog entry. And a quick dip into my secret chocolate stash while I type (ok, not so secret anymore considering I live with 9 other people). After a whirlwind “staging” in Philadelphia and 16 hours on flights, we arrived in Kigali, the capital, on Thursday evening. We stayed in Kigali through Sunday and our days were filled with meetings, paperwork, immunizations, food (seriously, Mom don’t worry, Peace Corps has been feeding us about every 2 hours!), and being stared at like we were the most fascinating things Rwandans had every laid eyes on. And our nights were filled with falling asleep to the pouring rain of the beginning of rainy season and adjusting to the side effects of Mefloquine, the antimalaria drugs we’re on (not too many crazy dream s yet, but apparently the more drugs I put into my body, the weirder they can get!).
On Saturday afternoon we visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, an experience which I am honestly still processing. It was incredibly moving and brought up many emotions and questions I didn’t realize I would feel and think about this soon into my time here. We are living and working in a country that only 16 years ago was in utter chaos; yet if you look around today it’s impossible not to see why Rwanda is fast becoming a development gem, with incredible steps being taken to improve their economic, education and health systems. The country is indescribably beautiful and clean and the people we have met have been kind, generous and determined. I often find myself forgetting the tragic events that occurred here, but then I will suddenly see someone in the market with only one leg or a scar across their face, snapping me back into reality.
On Sunday we drove 2ish hours south from Kigali to Nyanza where we will be spending the next 10 weeks in Pre-Service Training (PST). The 36 other trainees and I are split among 4 houses where we share living space with 3 Rwandan Peace Corps staff members who act as cultural and language facilitators. My house (fondly called “Tech House” after I presume the technical sessions we’ll be participating in) is a 20-25 minute walk from the training center where we eat and have classes. We have electricity (though as the rainy season kicks in it may become a bit less reliable) and running water in one of our two bathrooms. But I’m becoming familiar with all things “African” including bucket baths and pit latrines. Luckily, my health is great so far and I seem to be successfully making the change from bottled water to boiled/filtered water.
Last night was a momentous occasion as we were introduced to our resource families! They are resource families as opposed to host families; Rwandans are extremely private people and the program is still very new, so they’ve been unable to secure overnight homestays for us. But we are still expected to spend at least 4 hours a week with our resource families, practicing our Kinyarwanda and experiencing Rwandan culture firsthand. My resource mom’s name is Jeanne and her and her husband, Alexis, have 4 children ranging from age 2 to 10. I’ve only met Jeanne, but will meet the rest of her family tomorrow hopefully! Jeanne doesn’t speak English and neither of us know enough French to communicate much of anything ,so our first interaction (while unforgettable and joyous) played out in hand signals, broken French/English, picture drawing and some translating from other host moms. I’m extremely excited for the time I will spend with her and her family, learning about this beautiful culture and language.
We officially began Kinyarwanda lessons today and my head is already spinning with unfamiliar words, phrases and sounds. With only 24 letters in the alphabet (they did away with those pesky Q’s and X’s), letter combinations that are pronounced nothing like the letters they contain, 16 different noun classes, as well as the longest words and sentences I’ve ever seen, the next 10 weeks are promising to be nothing short of stressful and frustrating. But if you ever get the opportunity to hear Kinyarwanda spoken (*insert plug for “you should really come visit me!”) take advantage of it, as it is truly a beautifully complex language.
Ok, I apologize for the rambling, but there’s just so much to share! I’ll leave you with “Story Time: Rwanda Style” and then (hopefully) some pictures from Kigali and Nyanza.
Story Time: Rwanda Style –
1) Donny Strong does not in fact exist. The current Rwanda Peace Corps volunteers created a fake facebook account to prank us. Too bad, though, I was REALLY looking forward to discovering why a gun –toting, skoal chewing, “African gobbly gook” hater, crazy conservative from Orrville, Ohio would ever want to join Peace Corps.
2)The last minute pregnancy tests I heard about also turned out to be a lie. Though the Yellow Fever vaccine wasn’t pleasant. Neither were rabies or typhoid for that matter.
3)In Kigali we stayed at a Catholic-run facility, so I wasn’t surprised to see a crucifix on the wall above my bed. I was surprised, however, when we turned the lights off and discovered that Jesus was glowing in the dark. Rockstar.
4)Goat is actually pretty good (but does not taste like chicken, fyi), I now know what “fresh milk” really tastes like, and Rwandans have actually discovered even more ways to serve potatoes than Americans.
5)If you greet a child on the street by saying Good Evening (“mwiriwe” in Kinyarwanda) don’t be surprised when they say “Good Morning” in English back to you.
6)Before I left DC I was able to meet a girl who I’d be doing Peace Corps with. We had a great evening and it was nice to see a familiar face in Philly. Well, it must have been fate because we ended up being not only housemates, but roommates, as well as in the same Kinyarwanda lesson group. Crazy how things work out huh?
Until next time, enjoy the photos!!
At dinner tonight (while full of rice, beans, GUACAMOLE, and tree tomatoes) a few of us realized we have been Peace Corps Trainees for a week, though it feels as though I’ve already been in Rwanda for months. But I figure the one week mark deserves my first blog entry. And a quick dip into my secret chocolate stash while I type (ok, not so secret anymore considering I live with 9 other people). After a whirlwind “staging” in Philadelphia and 16 hours on flights, we arrived in Kigali, the capital, on Thursday evening. We stayed in Kigali through Sunday and our days were filled with meetings, paperwork, immunizations, food (seriously, Mom don’t worry, Peace Corps has been feeding us about every 2 hours!), and being stared at like we were the most fascinating things Rwandans had every laid eyes on. And our nights were filled with falling asleep to the pouring rain of the beginning of rainy season and adjusting to the side effects of Mefloquine, the antimalaria drugs we’re on (not too many crazy dream s yet, but apparently the more drugs I put into my body, the weirder they can get!).
On Saturday afternoon we visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, an experience which I am honestly still processing. It was incredibly moving and brought up many emotions and questions I didn’t realize I would feel and think about this soon into my time here. We are living and working in a country that only 16 years ago was in utter chaos; yet if you look around today it’s impossible not to see why Rwanda is fast becoming a development gem, with incredible steps being taken to improve their economic, education and health systems. The country is indescribably beautiful and clean and the people we have met have been kind, generous and determined. I often find myself forgetting the tragic events that occurred here, but then I will suddenly see someone in the market with only one leg or a scar across their face, snapping me back into reality.
On Sunday we drove 2ish hours south from Kigali to Nyanza where we will be spending the next 10 weeks in Pre-Service Training (PST). The 36 other trainees and I are split among 4 houses where we share living space with 3 Rwandan Peace Corps staff members who act as cultural and language facilitators. My house (fondly called “Tech House” after I presume the technical sessions we’ll be participating in) is a 20-25 minute walk from the training center where we eat and have classes. We have electricity (though as the rainy season kicks in it may become a bit less reliable) and running water in one of our two bathrooms. But I’m becoming familiar with all things “African” including bucket baths and pit latrines. Luckily, my health is great so far and I seem to be successfully making the change from bottled water to boiled/filtered water.
Last night was a momentous occasion as we were introduced to our resource families! They are resource families as opposed to host families; Rwandans are extremely private people and the program is still very new, so they’ve been unable to secure overnight homestays for us. But we are still expected to spend at least 4 hours a week with our resource families, practicing our Kinyarwanda and experiencing Rwandan culture firsthand. My resource mom’s name is Jeanne and her and her husband, Alexis, have 4 children ranging from age 2 to 10. I’ve only met Jeanne, but will meet the rest of her family tomorrow hopefully! Jeanne doesn’t speak English and neither of us know enough French to communicate much of anything ,so our first interaction (while unforgettable and joyous) played out in hand signals, broken French/English, picture drawing and some translating from other host moms. I’m extremely excited for the time I will spend with her and her family, learning about this beautiful culture and language.
We officially began Kinyarwanda lessons today and my head is already spinning with unfamiliar words, phrases and sounds. With only 24 letters in the alphabet (they did away with those pesky Q’s and X’s), letter combinations that are pronounced nothing like the letters they contain, 16 different noun classes, as well as the longest words and sentences I’ve ever seen, the next 10 weeks are promising to be nothing short of stressful and frustrating. But if you ever get the opportunity to hear Kinyarwanda spoken (*insert plug for “you should really come visit me!”) take advantage of it, as it is truly a beautifully complex language.
Ok, I apologize for the rambling, but there’s just so much to share! I’ll leave you with “Story Time: Rwanda Style” and then (hopefully) some pictures from Kigali and Nyanza.
Story Time: Rwanda Style –
1) Donny Strong does not in fact exist. The current Rwanda Peace Corps volunteers created a fake facebook account to prank us. Too bad, though, I was REALLY looking forward to discovering why a gun –toting, skoal chewing, “African gobbly gook” hater, crazy conservative from Orrville, Ohio would ever want to join Peace Corps.
2)The last minute pregnancy tests I heard about also turned out to be a lie. Though the Yellow Fever vaccine wasn’t pleasant. Neither were rabies or typhoid for that matter.
3)In Kigali we stayed at a Catholic-run facility, so I wasn’t surprised to see a crucifix on the wall above my bed. I was surprised, however, when we turned the lights off and discovered that Jesus was glowing in the dark. Rockstar.
4)Goat is actually pretty good (but does not taste like chicken, fyi), I now know what “fresh milk” really tastes like, and Rwandans have actually discovered even more ways to serve potatoes than Americans.
5)If you greet a child on the street by saying Good Evening (“mwiriwe” in Kinyarwanda) don’t be surprised when they say “Good Morning” in English back to you.
6)Before I left DC I was able to meet a girl who I’d be doing Peace Corps with. We had a great evening and it was nice to see a familiar face in Philly. Well, it must have been fate because we ended up being not only housemates, but roommates, as well as in the same Kinyarwanda lesson group. Crazy how things work out huh?
Until next time, enjoy the photos!!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
It's just the beginning..
Well, I'm off to the airport. Philadelphia by noon for orientation and then the long trek to Rwanda, arriving by Thursday night! I remarkably was able to finish packing and get a little sleep last night, and woke up this morning seriously at peace with my decision and this next step that I am taking. Next time I update you all I will hopefully be in Rwanda, and what a story that shall be. Take care and here I go!!!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
One week till staging. 9 days till I land in Rwanda.
I can't believe how fast the past few weeks have gone by.
I had my last days at work, which were filled with goodbye happy hours, lunches, parties, laughs and a several tears. I was amazed with the warmth and generosity of my coworkers as they shared stories from their peace corps days, as well as some extremely useful (and often hilarious) advice and gifts. I know that I've left SCMS in extremely capable hands and I look forward to not only hearing about the amazing work they'll continue to do but also visiting our field office in Rwanda!
I also had to tearfully and stressfully say goodbye to my home for the last 8 years: Washington, DC. To anyone who has moved two days after close to 30 inches of snow have fallen, I know exactly how you feel now! Our ("our" being me and my wonderful friend and roommate Lucy) goodbye and birthday party was of course planned for Saturday, February 6th, after at least 26 inches of snow pummeled the nation's capitol, pretty much paralyzing the city and keeping out anyone who wasn't within the city limits. But the troopers that they are, so many of our friends were still able to trek out to celebrate with us, and I thank each and everyone of you for making that evening so memorable!
All I have to say is my father is a rockstar. He maneuvered his little Blazer all the way to DC and into the nightmare that was my neighborhood. We were able to pack up the car and get out of the city in close to 2 hours and made it back safely to Ohio last Monday, the 8th.
Since then, life has been full of pulling together everything I'll need to pack for Rwanda. This has been nothing short of a challenge. And I must say I'm doing remarkably well (though every few minutes I add something to my "to do" or "to buy" list). I'm hoping to practice packing tomorrow, so fingers crossed on that one!
My mom also went above and beyond (per usual) and threw a (what else) SAFARI themed goodbye party, for my family and friends here in Wooster. Despite being slightly embarassed at first, embracing the cliche-ness worked wonders, and I soon found myself decorating tables with cougar print fans and elephant and monkey shaped "duckies". The food was great (all my favorites I'll dearly miss), the company was fantastic, and well, I must admit this happened:
So, in a week I'll be at staging, overwhelmed and excited and anxious I'm sure. So for now I'm enjoying sleeping alot, hot showers, cold milk, my crazy family and friends, and all of the glorious snow that continues to fall each day.
Oh, and I did get my mailing address!! This should work for at least the first 3 months of training, but can also work for the duration of my service (though I may get another PO Box closer to where my site placement is, but more to come on that later on).
For letters:
Amy Studenic, Peace Corps Trainee
PO Box 5657
Kigali, Rwanda
Don't forget "Par Avion" or "Air Mail"
For packages:
Amy Studenic, PCV
US Peace Corps
PO Box 5657
Kigali, Rwanda
So, that's it for now. Stop reading this and go write me a letter :)
Until next time...
I had my last days at work, which were filled with goodbye happy hours, lunches, parties, laughs and a several tears. I was amazed with the warmth and generosity of my coworkers as they shared stories from their peace corps days, as well as some extremely useful (and often hilarious) advice and gifts. I know that I've left SCMS in extremely capable hands and I look forward to not only hearing about the amazing work they'll continue to do but also visiting our field office in Rwanda!
I also had to tearfully and stressfully say goodbye to my home for the last 8 years: Washington, DC. To anyone who has moved two days after close to 30 inches of snow have fallen, I know exactly how you feel now! Our ("our" being me and my wonderful friend and roommate Lucy) goodbye and birthday party was of course planned for Saturday, February 6th, after at least 26 inches of snow pummeled the nation's capitol, pretty much paralyzing the city and keeping out anyone who wasn't within the city limits. But the troopers that they are, so many of our friends were still able to trek out to celebrate with us, and I thank each and everyone of you for making that evening so memorable!
All I have to say is my father is a rockstar. He maneuvered his little Blazer all the way to DC and into the nightmare that was my neighborhood. We were able to pack up the car and get out of the city in close to 2 hours and made it back safely to Ohio last Monday, the 8th.
Since then, life has been full of pulling together everything I'll need to pack for Rwanda. This has been nothing short of a challenge. And I must say I'm doing remarkably well (though every few minutes I add something to my "to do" or "to buy" list). I'm hoping to practice packing tomorrow, so fingers crossed on that one!
My mom also went above and beyond (per usual) and threw a (what else) SAFARI themed goodbye party, for my family and friends here in Wooster. Despite being slightly embarassed at first, embracing the cliche-ness worked wonders, and I soon found myself decorating tables with cougar print fans and elephant and monkey shaped "duckies". The food was great (all my favorites I'll dearly miss), the company was fantastic, and well, I must admit this happened:
So, in a week I'll be at staging, overwhelmed and excited and anxious I'm sure. So for now I'm enjoying sleeping alot, hot showers, cold milk, my crazy family and friends, and all of the glorious snow that continues to fall each day.
Oh, and I did get my mailing address!! This should work for at least the first 3 months of training, but can also work for the duration of my service (though I may get another PO Box closer to where my site placement is, but more to come on that later on).
For letters:
Amy Studenic, Peace Corps Trainee
PO Box 5657
Kigali, Rwanda
Don't forget "Par Avion" or "Air Mail"
For packages:
Amy Studenic, PCV
US Peace Corps
PO Box 5657
Kigali, Rwanda
So, that's it for now. Stop reading this and go write me a letter :)
Until next time...
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