Tuesday, November 30, 2010

This is why I'm here...




New site in the south 

It was day one at my new site, the Kitabi College of Conservation and Environmental Management. I woke up to silence, light and a feeling of change. Outside my house are rolling hills of forest and tea. Here in Kitabi we are up high where it is cold and the clouds are constantly changing their mind.  I spent time with new colleagues then organized my new room and walked the campus but by afternoon, I had a familiar, unpleasant feeling. It was a feeling of disappointment and emptiness, inevitable after any big expectation is checked by reality. What am I doing here? Will it be too much? Too little? How do I take care of myself while helping Rwanda? Is this site too different from my last one? These are common questions I ask myself but today I decided they were intolerable and restrictive.

I was not in the mood to hole up in my house so I ventured outside and off campus for a little walk.  To my left was a heavy storm cloud and to my right was forest where just this morning I had seen a baboon. I continued straight and decided to buy some airtime for my phone. This led me from boutique to boutique, with lots of confused-looking Rwandans wondering who this Kinyarwanda-speaking foreigner was. I made it to one house that promised to have airtime when the kids started shouting to get the camera because the white person was there. “Appareil appareil!” they shouted.

As I got to the house and paid, it started pouring. This Rwandan woman, Mama Yvette, ushered me into her house where I sat with eight other children. The children passed around a broken Polaroid and “took” pictures of me all afternoon.

The rain kept me for a while, enough time to make some friends, eat some bananas, see the bath of a two month old and exchange some English-Kinyarwanda lessons. It was chilly and damp and the electricity was intermittent; still, there was a beautiful energy in the room. One girl was knitting a scarf using to sticks as needles. Two of the boys turned out to be some of the most talented dancers I have ever seen… although their song “ipusi ipusi” (cat cat) was not so great. One of the boys, Zidane, was smitten. He had dirty clothes, gap teeth and a shy spirit like mine. He started a chorus of “will she stay the night? Will she stay the night?” that continued until the rain slowed and I left. His pleas, “ararara, ararara?” turned in to a song and I was sorry to disappoint.  

I was accompanied home and have carried a smile ever since. For me, this experience exemplifies Peace Corps. Just walking out of your house and using your language and cultural skills to spend the afternoon with a village family is unique to Peace Corps. I couldn’t have done this before Peace Corps and for this skill, I am grateful. 

Colleagues from my old school

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Just*



Goodbye Kirambo...

Sorghum replaced the corn and now beans have taken the place of the sorghum. From my yellow house in the valley, I’ve watched the fields shift from purple, to red to lime green. In the middle of this rainy, bean season, I find myself saying an emotional goodbye to the North and preparing for next year’s adventure in southern Rwanda.

I had my final market day yesterday, which I took in slowly as I meandered the aisles and greeted everyone. We laughed, touched and chatted and I promised to return to visit. I commissioned my last project at the tailor while her child screamed and covered his eyes at the sight of me. I took photos of my kids and exchanged numbers with everyone (because everyone in Rwanda has a cell phone!).

I have loved my final moto rides, which cleared my head and fed my heart. The scenery in the North is so breathtaking. I will miss the hustle and bustle of Base, the town where I catch motos and am offered rides on bicycles, motorcycles and cars by smiling men that call me Umurerwa or Kayitesi.

I have taken the chance to say goodbye to my favorite villagers, like the shop keepers, Mama Shafik and her new baby, my dear old Mama Devotha and of course, my bestie Christine. She is my lifeline, my number one. We share walks, tea, meals, conversations, music and laughs. And recently we shared bacon and French toast. I will miss these friends. I will also miss my morning wake-up call from the mosque. And those children that drive me crazy… I will miss their echoes of “Good morning Penina!” that reverberate across the valley.

It has now been 13 months since I left for Peace Corps and this means over 11 months at site. I recently left site for a while and coming back helped me see just what those 11 months mean. Those months of exposure to a Peace Corps Volunteer have left my village open, accepting and loving. Upon my return, I was greeted with “where’ve you been?” and “we missed you!” and “our muzungu!” Absent was the judgment and hurt I was expecting. Cultural exchange is a huge goal of Peace Corps and it is happening… in fact it is working! I have settled into a comfortable pattern of life in which I have accepted many Rwandan traditions and norms but kept some of my own. My village seems to have accepted this too.

Someone recently challenged me to find things that I love in Rwanda. Can you tell by this blog post that there are many?

Just.

Final market day in my site



Some Peace Corps Volunteers acting like turkeys on Thanksgiving. Look at our feast!

*Rwandans often say "just" to mean yes. It drives us English teachers crazy.