My Coljaction agrees like a dog*

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.