- 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 :)
Monday, April 19, 2010
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!!!!!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The day we got our site assignments (yay!)
My original plan had been to skip dinner. I had spent the majority of the day in bed, watching movies, drinking passion fruit juice and struggling to fight off my newest African ailment. Then Jessi’s phone rang; it was Sally, who explained that Mup and the other Peace Corps staff would tell us our site assignments before dinner if everyone came to the center right then. My stomach churned, for once not because of sickness, but from nervousness. So we trudged the 20 minutes to the center and were greeted with a large scale chalk drawing of Rwanda on the concrete, with the names of organizations placed next to corresponding stars within each province. My eyes flitted across the map, from the Eastern Province, to Kigali Province, to the Northern and the Western and finally the Southern Province. I recognized some organizations names, but most were foreign to me. I noticed where there were up to 4 stars in a row and other stars that seemed to be miles from the next one. Then I slowly reminded myself that those stars represented people’s futures, where I and the rest of my training class would be spending the next two years of our lives. So, I held my breath (and stomach) and waited.
Names were called, people began clapping and laughing with excitement as their organizations and districts were read off. Then I heard my name. I slowly stood up, walked towards the map and heard “Access, Musanze District in the Northern Province”. Wait a second. Can you repeat that? Did you just say Access (the project I’d been hoping for since I got here)? And did you say the Northern Province (the region I would have picked for myself if given the opportunity)? Yep, I heard them right; it wasn’t a joke. The stars aligned, the gods looked down kindly upon me, and all those other metaphors people dream up when things just go their way. As the remaining names, organizations and districts were revealed, my euphoria was slightly diminished as I looked around and realized how lonely me and my star were. The majority of my closest friends had been placed in the Southern and Eastern Provinces, and my star was definitely floating up in the Northern province pretty isolated. But then I realized where I was standing. For any of you who haven’t had time to brush up on your Rwandan geography, the Musanze District borders Volcanoes National Park on the border with the DRC and is supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful. Volcanoes National Park also just happens to be your ticket to…Mountain Gorilla Trekking. So, basically, those of you who hadn’t decided yet if you wanted to come visit me, you might want to start looking up flights now
I was (and am) stoked, content, excited, exhilarated and beyond words happy.
So what does this mean? It means starting in May, I will be spending the following two years (as long as everything continues to go according to plan) living and working in the Northern Province of Rwanda, specifically within the district of Musanze. I’ll be working for the Access Project as a Health and Community Development (HCD) Volunteer. I'll know more about the Access Project after this week but you can get more info here!! http://www.theaccessproject.com/index.php/home/
My job description goes a little like this: “The HCD Volunteer will work in all 11 health centers in Musanze and will work with the project District Health Advisor (DHA). Duties of the HCD volunteer will include working with the DHA within the domain of Data Management and IT Management.” It goes on but I can tell you that my favorite parts include: 1) Develop methodologies for collecting, assessing and improving quality of health centers’ data; and 2) Collect, analyze HIV, TB and Malaria data and ensure analyzed data is used for decision making. I’ll also be responsible for writing “Success Stories” recording new developments and progress at certain Health Centers.
For any of you who even have an inkling of my background and interests it’s obvious that I could not have been placed with a better organization or given a better job description! I’m beyond excited for this challenge. We're in Kigali now and will meet our supervisors tomorrow, then on Tuesday we’ll head to visit our sites for the rest of the week. I’ll be staying with a current volunteer working for Access, and am excited to hear more about her community and her experiences.
I’m sure I’ll have so much more to tell you all next weekend, but I can’t even explain how excited I am for what’s to come. Happy weekend everyone, and have a fantastic week!
Things that made me happy this week:
1) Site assignments! (duh!)
2) Dancing
3) Getting my first package!! (that I sent myself..before I left. Yes, I knew exactly what was in it and it still made my week)
4) Getting a roll of the “good” toilet paper. (Aka the kind that ISN’T reminiscent of crepe paper)
5) Giving two kids high fives and having the last kid, who must have been 3 years old, go to high five me but instead raise his hand up to his head (total “siiike” moment). This probably should have made me sad but I mostly just found it hilarious. No joke though, I saw the same kid the next morning and he ran up to me to give me a high five, so I think he still loves me.
6) Getting passion fruit juice brought to my bedside, and “accidentally forgetting” to take it back to the center.
7) Whatever that glorious carrot/unidentifiable vegetable curry concoction was at lunch on Wednesday
8) My wonderful housemates. Even Laurence. Hehe.
9) Walking home alone in the rain. (This unfortunately was followed by my unhappy moment of the week: realizing my book bag is not waterproof and that every book I had in it was soaked…)
10) Clean sheets and Pepto Bismol
11) Getting to participate in umuganda for the first time. Umuganda, held on the last Saturday every month, is a nationwide day of community service activities that all Rwandans take part in. We arrived in a field set on a hillside with hundreds of villagers and soon everyone was in a long row at the bottom of the field tilling the soil (umutaka) with their hoes (isuka). Of course we didn’t have tools and were left to simply watch for a little bit, but quickly enough all the mazungus were pitching in, much to the amusement of all of the Rwandans. The air was filled with laughter and countless explanations of the “correct hoeing technique”, which honestly does exist, I finally got it after an hour or so. We took turns with the Rwandans, and the entire hillside field was ready for planting within a couple of hours; something that would have taken days for a family or cost hundreds of thousands of francs in labor costs. It was by far the most rewarding thing I’ve done yet here, and I have the blisters (abamavu = wounds from farming) to prove it!!
12) Making homemade cheeseburgers and French fries. At our house. In the rain. In Africa. Particularly because it was the first hamburger our 3 Rwandan housemates had eaten; they devoured theirs down in seconds and asked for more!
13) Figuring out that if you really want to have a dance party in your living room, the “strobe light” feature on your headlamp can come in very handy.
Names were called, people began clapping and laughing with excitement as their organizations and districts were read off. Then I heard my name. I slowly stood up, walked towards the map and heard “Access, Musanze District in the Northern Province”. Wait a second. Can you repeat that? Did you just say Access (the project I’d been hoping for since I got here)? And did you say the Northern Province (the region I would have picked for myself if given the opportunity)? Yep, I heard them right; it wasn’t a joke. The stars aligned, the gods looked down kindly upon me, and all those other metaphors people dream up when things just go their way. As the remaining names, organizations and districts were revealed, my euphoria was slightly diminished as I looked around and realized how lonely me and my star were. The majority of my closest friends had been placed in the Southern and Eastern Provinces, and my star was definitely floating up in the Northern province pretty isolated. But then I realized where I was standing. For any of you who haven’t had time to brush up on your Rwandan geography, the Musanze District borders Volcanoes National Park on the border with the DRC and is supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful. Volcanoes National Park also just happens to be your ticket to…Mountain Gorilla Trekking. So, basically, those of you who hadn’t decided yet if you wanted to come visit me, you might want to start looking up flights now
I was (and am) stoked, content, excited, exhilarated and beyond words happy.
So what does this mean? It means starting in May, I will be spending the following two years (as long as everything continues to go according to plan) living and working in the Northern Province of Rwanda, specifically within the district of Musanze. I’ll be working for the Access Project as a Health and Community Development (HCD) Volunteer. I'll know more about the Access Project after this week but you can get more info here!! http://www.theaccessproject.com/index.php/home/
My job description goes a little like this: “The HCD Volunteer will work in all 11 health centers in Musanze and will work with the project District Health Advisor (DHA). Duties of the HCD volunteer will include working with the DHA within the domain of Data Management and IT Management.” It goes on but I can tell you that my favorite parts include: 1) Develop methodologies for collecting, assessing and improving quality of health centers’ data; and 2) Collect, analyze HIV, TB and Malaria data and ensure analyzed data is used for decision making. I’ll also be responsible for writing “Success Stories” recording new developments and progress at certain Health Centers.
For any of you who even have an inkling of my background and interests it’s obvious that I could not have been placed with a better organization or given a better job description! I’m beyond excited for this challenge. We're in Kigali now and will meet our supervisors tomorrow, then on Tuesday we’ll head to visit our sites for the rest of the week. I’ll be staying with a current volunteer working for Access, and am excited to hear more about her community and her experiences.
I’m sure I’ll have so much more to tell you all next weekend, but I can’t even explain how excited I am for what’s to come. Happy weekend everyone, and have a fantastic week!
Things that made me happy this week:
1) Site assignments! (duh!)
2) Dancing
3) Getting my first package!! (that I sent myself..before I left. Yes, I knew exactly what was in it and it still made my week)
4) Getting a roll of the “good” toilet paper. (Aka the kind that ISN’T reminiscent of crepe paper)
5) Giving two kids high fives and having the last kid, who must have been 3 years old, go to high five me but instead raise his hand up to his head (total “siiike” moment). This probably should have made me sad but I mostly just found it hilarious. No joke though, I saw the same kid the next morning and he ran up to me to give me a high five, so I think he still loves me.
6) Getting passion fruit juice brought to my bedside, and “accidentally forgetting” to take it back to the center.
7) Whatever that glorious carrot/unidentifiable vegetable curry concoction was at lunch on Wednesday
8) My wonderful housemates. Even Laurence. Hehe.
9) Walking home alone in the rain. (This unfortunately was followed by my unhappy moment of the week: realizing my book bag is not waterproof and that every book I had in it was soaked…)
10) Clean sheets and Pepto Bismol
11) Getting to participate in umuganda for the first time. Umuganda, held on the last Saturday every month, is a nationwide day of community service activities that all Rwandans take part in. We arrived in a field set on a hillside with hundreds of villagers and soon everyone was in a long row at the bottom of the field tilling the soil (umutaka) with their hoes (isuka). Of course we didn’t have tools and were left to simply watch for a little bit, but quickly enough all the mazungus were pitching in, much to the amusement of all of the Rwandans. The air was filled with laughter and countless explanations of the “correct hoeing technique”, which honestly does exist, I finally got it after an hour or so. We took turns with the Rwandans, and the entire hillside field was ready for planting within a couple of hours; something that would have taken days for a family or cost hundreds of thousands of francs in labor costs. It was by far the most rewarding thing I’ve done yet here, and I have the blisters (abamavu = wounds from farming) to prove it!!
12) Making homemade cheeseburgers and French fries. At our house. In the rain. In Africa. Particularly because it was the first hamburger our 3 Rwandan housemates had eaten; they devoured theirs down in seconds and asked for more!
13) Figuring out that if you really want to have a dance party in your living room, the “strobe light” feature on your headlamp can come in very handy.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
“Kubyina”: to dance
I have danced in Rwanda. Yes, we have Peace Corps dance parties. We jump around and form a big circle, pushing random people into the center for their 10 seconds of freestyle fame. But nothing compares to standing in first position, hand on the barre (er, back of the lecture benches) and beginning my first demi plie in Rwanda. It was a simple barre, with short center work, but it was still an hour where all the stress over language and tech classes and site assignments melted away. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve been in a ballet class. Yes, Mrs. Schwinn, it was last with you; in what, June of 2008 maybe? But it is incredible to observe all of the muscle memory ability that the human body has. The technique’s still there, the placement, the turnout, and most surprisingly, even the short term memory. However, long gone are the flexibility, the strength, and the extension. I even found my arch tiring from contracting to point my toes. But the feeling and result never changes; I walked out with a clearer head, a happier outlook on my day and the realization that tomorrow I will be really really sore. There are several dancers in our training group (3 ballet dancers, a jazz dancer, a ballroom dancer, a yoga instructor and many people who want to learn!) so our hope is to do class a couple of times a week, rotating genres and teachers. I’m excited…to say the least!
I plan on dance being an integral part of my service in Rwanda; particularly because of how integral dance is in the culture of Rwanda. Did I mention that the dance groups that we watched on International Women’s Day were in fact the Intore dancers, who perform nationally and internationally and who have existed for centuries, even prior to European arrival in Rwanda? Yeah, I now realize why they were so insanely good. And yet, pretty much every Rwandan has three times the rhythm and natural dance ability that your average American has. And a better voice for that matter. Sorry, I must speak the truth. But considering how much they sing and dance here, I’m thankful that everyone is so artistically blessed! Some of you already know this, but my hope is to be able to start a girls dance group in my community. I know I’ll learn just as much as I’ll teach (particularly some African dance!) and hope that it will allow me a platform to begin discussions on other issues, such as nutrition, education and leadership, but most importantly youth empowerment. Rwanda has an extremely young population, considering its history; and the children really do need nurtured, led and educated, while allowing them ample space and time to explore their interests/passions and realize their potential in this world. I know, I know. I’m an idealist, I’m talking motivational fluff, but I believe in it. It’s why I’m here, why I’m doing Peace Corps. I realize my overall impact will be limited during my time in Rwanda, but if I can affect the children in a positive way, I’ll consider it a victory.
Alright, enough of my rambling, I’ll write again soon. There’s a strong possibility that tomorrow we’ll be finding out our site assignments (*fingers crossed and crazy happy dance) and that’s causing a lot of whispers, excitement and anxiety. Promise I’ll let you all know as soon as I find out! Until then...
I plan on dance being an integral part of my service in Rwanda; particularly because of how integral dance is in the culture of Rwanda. Did I mention that the dance groups that we watched on International Women’s Day were in fact the Intore dancers, who perform nationally and internationally and who have existed for centuries, even prior to European arrival in Rwanda? Yeah, I now realize why they were so insanely good. And yet, pretty much every Rwandan has three times the rhythm and natural dance ability that your average American has. And a better voice for that matter. Sorry, I must speak the truth. But considering how much they sing and dance here, I’m thankful that everyone is so artistically blessed! Some of you already know this, but my hope is to be able to start a girls dance group in my community. I know I’ll learn just as much as I’ll teach (particularly some African dance!) and hope that it will allow me a platform to begin discussions on other issues, such as nutrition, education and leadership, but most importantly youth empowerment. Rwanda has an extremely young population, considering its history; and the children really do need nurtured, led and educated, while allowing them ample space and time to explore their interests/passions and realize their potential in this world. I know, I know. I’m an idealist, I’m talking motivational fluff, but I believe in it. It’s why I’m here, why I’m doing Peace Corps. I realize my overall impact will be limited during my time in Rwanda, but if I can affect the children in a positive way, I’ll consider it a victory.
Alright, enough of my rambling, I’ll write again soon. There’s a strong possibility that tomorrow we’ll be finding out our site assignments (*fingers crossed and crazy happy dance) and that’s causing a lot of whispers, excitement and anxiety. Promise I’ll let you all know as soon as I find out! Until then...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Let's talk about money.
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…
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…
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).
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