Each blogtown entry I try to give a theme. I’ve been feeling
so much these past weeks but have difficulty expressing it and therefore
difficulty in settling on a theme. The strongest emotion I’ve felt recently is
love from my community so we’ll go with that since it has curtailed my
criticism of myself.
I experience it everyday and it is a gentle reminder to
smile. I see it in 3 year-old Divine who waits for me in the street in the
morning with her arms open wide. And I feel it in her small, soft hand as I
take it in mine. My heart is warms when I see the community’s approval of my
Kinyarwanda attempts and they pay for my bus ride. I see it when I visit my
neighbors in the evening and the youngest children run around the yard like
chickens clucking “Good morning
Peacher!” (A mix of teacher and my nickname Penina.) The oldest boy, who dreams
of being the “Chucken Norris” of Rwanda, sings to me, “Low low low low your
boat gentry down the streeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaa.”
The recent theft and return of my camera showed me what the
community thinks of me. The family that returned the camera to me invited me into their barren house – no
cushions on the couches – and told the story of its theft. I tried hard to
follow but all I really caught was “camera… shoes… I really like her… small
white person.” It was a typical Rwandan conversation in that every 20 words
spoken in Kinyarwanda somehow equated to only about 5 in English. This is to
say, it was a long conversation. In the end, I gave them the equivalent of $20
for returning the camera to me and not selling it in Kigali. Judging by the
barren walls, dirty children and missing cushions, this would be a lot to them.
And it meant a lot
to me. The Mama spent the last 5 minutes talking about how much she likes me
even though we had never met. The Mama, her name is Gloriose, said, “this
little white person (akazungu) is like a child (umwana), how can you steal from
her? It’s a shame. (Mama weeeeeee!)” I am often confused as a child here
because of my size and this was the first time it did not upset me. The Mama is
a vegetable vendor at the market who now sends me home with a heavy bag of my
favorite food: Rwandan corn. My
new house guard brings me corn, too. There is nothing in the world like grilled
corn from your friend’s field.
I spent Saturday harvesting corn with my neighbor and the
following day, she invited me to participate in a women’s march for
development. Little did I know I was one of the guest stars of this national
holiday. I sat with the mayor and some of the strongest Rwandan women I know as
we heard testimonies about women’s development in our district and watched live
performances. Rwandan traditional dancing is beautiful and shows off the female
body without making it sexual. When I joined in, all these women whipped out
their camera phones (I know! Development!) to take pictures. The mayor spoke
about women’s rights and said, “I know some men here do not like what I am
saying but as long as I am mayor of Burera, no man may beat his wife.” I was so
happy this day, surrounded by big mamas and progressive-thinking males that I
was brought to tears several times.
I know there has been a lot of negative press recently about
Rwanda and the upcoming elections. I want everyone to know how safe and
accepted I feel in my community. We are hoping the elections will pass with
minimal violence, the tensions will subside and we’ll continue to kick it Peace
Corps style. That is to say, Chacos, the inability to speak any language
correctly, cramped bus rides, large spiders to keep us company in our solitude
and catchy Rwandan pop music.
* The title of this blog comes from a game of telephone. The original sentence was Michael Jackson laughed at the ugly dog. That is what a student wrote.
