Thursday, October 27, 2011

One Year Reflections…has it really been that long?

Well, a year has come and gone in Rwanda, which means we have just over a year left in this amazing country. I figured that now would be an excellent time to reflect on what has happened and what I hope to accomplish in the coming year.

When we arrived in Rwanda, everyone was quick to say that the days would be long, but the weeks would be short, which no one believed as we were struggling through the packed schedule of PST (pre-service training), but boy were they right. Some days it feels like I’ve been at school for ten hours when it’s only been 3 or 4, while other days I have actually been there for 10 hours, though it feels like 3, and I’m begging myself to go home to my bed. The latter usually means I’ll be asleep by 7:30 without eating dinner and often with my door unlocked (luckily I usually wake up a few hours later to lock the doors and turn off the lights), while the former means I’ll be taking an afternoon nap or watching some Glee or How I Met Your Mother. But as Monday ends, Tuesday brings a morning mental struggle to get up and go to school, Wednesday is a little easier because I’m excited for evening aerobic with the local shopkeepers, and then suddenly the weekend is over and it’s Monday again.

So what have I accomplished? What do I wish I had accomplished? What went well? What was a major failure? What do I love about my life and what continues to be a challenge? For the most part, things have gone as planned (minus the little incident in February when all my valuables were stolen). All of the inefficiencies, long waits (“African time”), lack of information, and general un-organization have been as expected. Something that is supposed to start at 9 usually starts at 11 and often you don’t know about it until you’re sitting at home and get a call asking where you are.

What has been surprising has been people’s lack of trust towards others; the other person is always assumed to be lying or misleading you, which I hate. I like to think the best of everyone until proven otherwise, while Rwandans seem to assume the worst until proven otherwise. They are so reserved and it really takes some time to break them down and form really meaningful relationships with them. I can count a handful of people who I have accomplished this with and really wish it wasn’t so difficult. Even today, a shopkeeper said, “Sarah, you really like to smile. You are always smiling and laughing.” And I responded, “Yes, I love to smile/laugh. It is good for you.” Sadly there are not many opportunities to have a good laugh in daily life. I try to get my smiling and laughing in at school with my kids. Walking around town you might smile and wave at someone or greet them with a smile, but a good ab-exhausting, tear-rendering laugh is hard to come by.

The first year of PC has been about settling in, building relationships, and really getting comfortable with my primary assignment – teaching. Just as I was settling in in February, I was uprooted and moved to a different community, which really was a challenge. In the village I had gotten to know people, had a routine, and was generally comfortable. But when I moved, I was really busy at school and didn’t have the time to devote to meeting a lot of new people, which was really stressful. It took about 3 months for things to really feel comfortable. I now know a lot of the shopkeepers that work around my house; the children know my name; and though I don’t go into the village as much as I’d like, people know me and will approach me and greet me as I walk by.

For the most part I’ve been happy with my school; they have given me a lot of freedom to do what I’d like and to propose ideas for projects/programs to the administration. I really wish I had more help from teachers and administrators, but they always want money or food as compensation for “volunteering”, which isn’t realistic or feasible. I was really upset one day when another NGO came to ask about our ideas for school feeding and after we shared our ideas they gave every person 2500 RWF (what I spend at the market in a week), which just inflates their expectations of always receiving a handout. Rwanda has received a lot of handouts since the Genocide, which has really stalled the development of social responsibility/mobilization and volunteerism because people expect (a) to have things done for them, or (b) to be given money or food. But there are some people who are willing to help just because they think something is a good idea, but unfortunately there are only a few teachers at my school who fit that description.

Things that have gone well this year: English Club for students and primary teachers; a school feeding program with shared investment from the school and parents; a leadership and responsibility workshop for student leaders and administrators; and of course teaching and seeing an improvement in both English and critical thinking from my students.

My biggest failure, if you will, has been the lack of English club for secondary school teachers. I’m not all that sad about it because, to be honest, I’m kinda tired of teaching English; I teach all day and then have 2 English clubs, so not having one for secondary isn’t all that disheartening. Furthermore, I feel like I have a whole lot more to offer than just my English skills, so I’d rather spend my time doing other projects that not only help the school, but also challenge me a little.

So what do I think about this past year? I genuinely feel like I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing right now. This last year has allowed me to observe a lot of concepts and ideas I studied at Hopkins and worked on for both of my theses. I have realized I don’t want to be a teacher forever, but I still love education policy, especially why it is structured the way it is, and how it is implemented at the local level. I am surrounded by adults and children who surprise me each and every day and really make the best of what they have.

At the start of university, my friends and family probably couldn’t picture me running off to Africa with the Peace Corps. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind at that point. But, here I am loving the good and bad of living in Rwanda. As I started to travel more, I began to think of myself having two personalities. First, there’s the Sarah who went to a private high school and then to a private university; is materialistic; doesn’t like to get dirty; and despite her best efforts to help people, sometimes finds herself thinking that she’s better than those she is working to help. Then there’s the “Africa Sarah” who loves everything about African cultures and lifestyles; wants to live and work with the locals; doesn’t wear makeup and often wears the same pants multiple days in a row; washes her hair once a week-ish; is more patient; is always ready to get dirty and work with the community to clean or build classrooms; and most importantly, really has no interest in the material things that often seemed to define who she was.

I’m really happy with how I have changed, adapted, and really evolved (I know it’s cheesy) over the last year. Though I’m sure some changes have been the result of the environment, but I hope some of them stick (like being patient…I’d like to wash my hair more than once a week). I’m sure in a year I’ll return home and shop at J.Crew and Vineyard Vines and assume my New Englander identity, but I really hope I come home with an unshakable desire to work with people and genuinely understand who they are and how they live and remember that I have lived in a difficult environment and can relate to them in one way or another. Going to a good school, you begin to think that you know all, and though I feel like a lot of the time I can help find solutions to simple problems, I have realized that I have a long way to go before I have any right to step in and say, “This is what you need to do…” At this point, I am happy with who I have become, what I have accomplished, and the relationships I have formed and that’s enough. I know when I get home I will want to go back to school and know more about everything I saw in Rwanda and how some things can be changed, but for right now, I am OK with just “being” and living this life.

What will the future bring? The one year mark is a time to not only look back, but also look forward. In a month I will be co-directing a 5-day leadership camp for girls, which I am really excited about. Come January, I’ll be back to teaching, clubs, soccer, and who knows what other random projects will pop up. It’s crazy to think that come January, we will only have 11 months left in Rwanda. So of course I have started thinking about my return, and to be honest, I’m terrified. I have already woken up once having a panic attack about technology (got a new cell phone that had internet and apps which scared me). I’m afraid of supermarkets and spending money; having a choice of food (was dreaming about jelly beans and woke up chewing an ear plug :/ ); driving and going on a highway; answering the question “how was it?”; relating with people who were at home while I was in Africa; and most of all, people not showing interest or caring in what I have experienced. I know I have a long way to go before any of these things become a reality, but considering how quick this first year went and how fast everyone says the second year goes in comparison, it’ll be time to COS (close of service) soon enough.

Sorry this post was ridiculously long; it is mostly for me to recap everything that has happened since I have been horrible about keeping a journal.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Questions I’ve been Asking Myself

On a daily basis I find myself questioning what is happening at school and in the community, so I thought I’d share some of these questions with you all.

So here you go…

Is it going to rain today? Please say yes because I really need to shower and filter some drinking water!

Is my hair that interesting? (there is much debate about whether my hair is natural or whether I have a weave)

Neighbors, can you please not blast the music and bass at 5 AM? Please and thank you!

Am I hearing a lizard, a mouse, cockroaches, or a bat in my ceiling? How about behind my trunk?

Why don’t chickens really cross the road in an efficient fashion like all the ’why’d the chicken cross the road’ jokes suggest? (this came after I almost hit a chicken while I was riding my bike to school)

Is there really a goat in my classroom right now?

Did my student just ask me if I knew how to do circumcisions?

Why does a woman have to look so miserable at her wedding? (it’s tradition for the woman to not look happy with what is happening and her future with her husband)

Shouldn’t all the teachers be here with me and the rest of the community helping to build new classrooms for umuganda?

Why aren’t secondary teachers as motivated to learn English as the Primary teachers?

Do some adults really think that if they have sex with a child they will be cured of HIV/AIDS? (this is supposedly something that traditional doctors tell people to do)

To wash my clothes or not to wash my clothes today?

WHERE IS MY PACKAGE??!!

Why is customer service so awful here? (if you go to a shop or restaurant they always seem utterly miserable to help or serve you)

Why can’t drinking one Primus (beer) be enough? Why is it considered rude if you don’t drink two?

What part of the goat am I eating right now? Intestine? Liver?

Remember the days when you could get food in under an hour and it would be hot when it came?

Why would a bus company let a bus run if it can’t switch into the correct gear to get up the big hills? Do I really have to walk up the hill while the driver tries to get an empty bus up the hill?

Is that blood in the shattered windshield on the bus? Shouldn’t that be replaced and not just covered with plastic?

How many boards on the bridge will be broken today?

How did my name go from Sarah to Sandrine?

Why can’t there be a warning that the power is going to go out so I can get my lantern and everything ready?! I’m tired of tripping and falling around whenever the power goes out!

Is that a flat rat? (dead of course)

Can you please say excuse me instead of shoving me out of the way? (manners don’t seem to come naturally here)

Do I really want to go out on market day when the population quadruples and I’m called muzungu every 2 seconds? Not so much…I’ll continue to read.

So that’s a little insight into my daily interactions and questions/thoughts about what’s going on around me. In general, things are going good. The third term has started off a little slow, but I’ve made myself busy starting up a GLOW (girls leading our world) club at school and organizing Camp GLOW with fellow PCVs, which will take place in December and teach 40 girls about life skills. This term is really short and soon it will be the long vacation, which means I need to find another project to work on during the three month vacation so I don’t go crazy.

I’ll be posting another blog soon, but for now, know that I am healthy and happy and really feel like I’m falling into a good rhythm with Rwandan life as the norm (I find myself comparing my life here to my life in the US a whole lot less, which I’d argue is keeping me sane).

Friday, July 22, 2011

Day in the Life

So I realize that I have written about what I do every day, but I haven’t really told you how I go about doing it, which is by far one of the most unique parts of living here. It is not really what I do, but how I go about doing it that makes my experience here in Rwanda what it is. So now I am going to do my best to give you the general feel for life in Ruhuha, Rwanda.
                So my typical day starts around 6 AM with me being woken by the rooster and the cow next door. On Tuesdays and Fridays, the start is a little earlier with the chanting and drumming from a local church waking me. If I try hard enough and don’t have to get to school I can usually go back to sleep until about 7:30 at the latest, but the birds chasing lizards on my tin roof make it difficult. If it’s a school day, I roll out from under my mosquito net and head outside to use the bathroom (or latrine if someone has already beaten me to the nice bathroom) and shower. I’m lucky enough to have water in my compound and a real cold water shower, but it’s the dry season so I often wake up in the morning to no water coming from anywhere, which then leads to a shower-less morning. If I’m not lucky enough to get into the good bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face outside with a jug of water and spit the toothpaste on the ground. Then I head inside and if I have time, heat up some water to make oatmeal with brown sugar or bread and peanut butter. I shove all of my school stuff in a bag (notebooks, papers, pens, laptop, book, lots of water, and a snack) into my backpack and drag my bicycle outside, which sounds a whole lot easier than it is. I have to bring it down stairs, then up stairs, out a very narrow gate, back downstairs and up an alley to the dirt road. Out on the road I great the usual shopkeepers who are starting to open up shop for the day. It’s now about 6:50 (7:05 on a really slow morning). I jump on my bike as the masses start to accumulate to watch the muzungu ride a bicycle and then it’s a 10 minute ride to school.
                So I have never been much of a bike rider. I like my spinning classes and the summer bike rides on the Cape Cod Bike Trail, but I am in no way a pro at mountain/off-road biking and Rwanda hasn’t made it easy for me. The road is shared by buses, cars, motos, and bicycles and there is little concern for the little man out there on his bicycle riding up the dirt road. So as I ride up the first hill, trucks go flying past me throwing huge amounts of dust and dirt in my face and all over my clothes – so much for not turning orange today. As I ride I have people yelling my name and greeting me good morning, which I do my best to reciprocate as I huff and puff up the hill. Once at the top I regain my breath, but things only get more difficult. There are sharp rocks coming out of the dirt that I have to avoid, which wouldn’t be so bad if there weren’t so many or so close together. The lane for bikes has also been worn down so that there is a tire-wide space to ride and then the road goes up a few inches on either side, so you have to stay in line or you’re going over. Then of course there’s the slow or the aggressive riders that are blocking your way or riding right up on your tail and you want to yell, but well, that’s not acceptable, so I just ring my bell like crazy (yes, I have a bell on my bicycle). I keep saying my mwaramutses and bites and after another gradual climb, I’m at school – sweaty, dusty, thirsty, and usually hungry. I bring my bike down the hill as morning meeting is going on, which then leads to the kids whispering about my fancy bike or about how sweaty I am. Lovely.
                Teaching is nothing too special or unique. It’s just me, the students, chalk, some paper, and a lot of really really slow and enunciated English. After teaching I usually eat lunch at school (kawunga, which is corn flour mixed with hot water, and beans) and continue my day there until clubs or teaching teachers or I head home. The bicycle ride home is no more enjoyable then at 7 am. It is hotter, it is up hill all the way going home until the last 2 minutes, and there are a lot more people out in the afternoon than first thing in the morning, which leads to a lot of talking, waving, and near-accidents as a child runs in front of me or someone screams my name and I look around. When I get home I usually lay down for a bit and then cook if I’m feeling up to it or I ask my house girl to do it.
                So food and water are not immediately rewarding; they require preparation, which takes a whole lot longer here than in the U.S. If I want drinking water, I have to go fetch water from the tap outside; fill the bucket; dump the bucket into the filter inside; add a few drops of bleach; and wait for the water to filter to the bottom tap. If I want hot water, I have to fill an electric tea kettle and wait for the water to boil for a hot bucket bath or tea. Since all the food here is so fresh and manure is a very common fertilizer, all the fruit and vegetables need to be washed, bleached, peeled, cut, and then finally eaten, which is a long process. You fill a basin with water and wash and peel the vegetables then put it in another bucket of bleach water for about 20 minutes before you can eat it raw. If you are going to cook them then you can skip the bleaching. All of the food scraps get added together and then at the end of the night they are thrown in the garbage pit behind my house. I usually cook on a kerosene stove, but sometimes I use the charcoal stove, which takes a while to heat up so I only like to use it if I’ll be cooking a lot of things (kerosene is expensive) or baking (I am perfecting cakes, brownies, and cookies from scratch).
                After cooking it’s time to clean the dishes then myself up before eating. The dishes are washed similarly to the vegetables-a basin of water, soap, a sponge, and a final rinse. Then the dirty water gets tossed outside. A cold evening shower or warm bucket bath is nice. You feel accomplished as you watch the water turn from brown, to orange, to foggy, to clean clear water as all the dust and grime from the day is scrubbed off.
                Other random things that are a big change: washing clothes in a bucket then rinsing them multiple times to get all the soap out before hanging them on the line; ironing sheets before putting them on my bed to kill any bugs that got in there; having to walk to the local bar if I want cold water or soda; using students’ homework when there is no more toilet paper; a growing love for the radio and Voice of America (much better than sitting in silence); killing cockroaches without flinching; dumping a bucket of water on the floor and squeegeeing to clean the floors; and finally learning how to wait...and wait…and wait until things happen or start hours late.
                In the U.S., I eat, wash clothes, do dishes (though my mother will say otherwise), make my bed, go to work, but what truly sets this experience apart from home is how I do everything. Everything is more labor intensive and takes a whole lot longer. I’m lucky enough to be able to pay someone to do a lot of the work and I only do it on occasion (washing and cooking dinner mostly), but even the daily chores of getting drinking water or going to work are so totally different. It is hard to remember what it was like using modern technology and amenities and I’m sure I’ll be confused when I get home and have to use a washing machine or have the luxury of cooking frozen vegetables, but for right now, this is the norm and I’m not hating it – yet.

4th of July

I have now experienced all major American holidays in Rwanda with the 4th of July beating out all the rest as the most American. Halloween was nice, Thanksgiving was delicious, Christmas Eve/Day was a blur, and New Year’s Eve was memorable, but American Independence Day beat them all as truly the most American of all. Peace Corps let us go to the embassy for their celebration and boy did the U.S. Embassy do it right. Though it was more of a family event – a carnival really – it was really nice to be surrounded by a couple hundred Americans, enjoying American food, drinks, and music. At the embassy, they took our cell phones and cameras before we could go in, but if I had a camera, I would have taken pictures of the absurdly disturbing clown and telatubby (sp?); the Peace Corps Rwanda Director being dunked in the dunk tank by a fellow PCV; ice cold Budweiser; hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza, ice cream, and brownies; carnival games; the ambassador walking around and greeting everyone; the flags of all 50 states; and the overly satisfied group of PCVs who made the trip. What was funny was all the PCVs in attendance were from my group, which one of the PC doctors said was because our group is the most daring. Not quite sure what that means. I guess we like to push the limits? At the close of the embassy party, they projected fireworks up on a huge screen. Though I didn’t stay long enough to see them, I don’t think they compared to lying on the beach watching fireworks on the Cape. I certainly missed the Chatham Parade and Cookware sandwiches, but this Embassy celebration and the subsequent night of celebrating were certainly a close second.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

A Note on Personal Relationships – Struggles and Successes of Maintaining and Forging Relationships in the U.S. and Rwanda

I would argue that maintaining relationships in the U.S. and forging new ones in Rwanda has been one of the greatest challenges I’ve faced in Rwanda. I had heard that maintaining a connection with home was difficult and that making true friends in a very reserved society like Rwanda is no easier and I can say that both have proven true. After being in Rwanda for nearly eight months (can you believe it’s been that long cause I can’t!), I have found communicating with friends and family at home has been a struggle. It is so hard to maintain a connection when our lives are so different; all of my friends are doing their thing in cities up and down the East Coast, while I’m off living in an African village. It’s not easy for them to understand what my life is like here and I have a hard time hearing about their seemingly exciting urban lives which I often find myself envying. Even when I look on Facebook and see they are off to a concert or the theater or out on the town for a night, I can’t help but think about how our lives have diverged. A crazy night here in Ruhuha is going out until 7, baking cookies with the girls on a charcoal stove, watching movies, and laughing a lot – far different from the lives twenty-something year olds are living in Boston, D.C., or NYC.
Then you fall to the problem of talking and communicating. I often find myself calling home only to be told to call back another time or being told that they will call me soon now that they have my number or send me a letter or package and then I go months without hearing from them. I have yet to get a piece of mail from a friend – Facebook posts and messages are nice, but there is something special about getting a letter ($1 to send) or a small package ($15). My family has done well and I’m always so happy to hear from them, but I always get jealous when I hear from a fellow PCV how they got an awesome letter, newspaper articles, or a flash drive full of music and movies from their friends. After talking with some other PCV friends, my concerns over and frustrations with maintaining friendships in the U.S. seem to be pretty common and a big stressor for a lot of volunteers during their service; for the first couple of months people are super supportive but then interest just dies down and it’s really easy to drift apart. So, if I could enter a plea to those of you in the U.S. – please try to stay in touch. I miss you all dearly and try to communicate as best I can, but would like it to be more of a two-way street. I don’t want to come back in two years and be strangers.
Now on to making friends – real friends – in Rwanda; it’s not easy. There are three people (one English speaker, one French speaker, and one Kinyarwanda only speaker) who I totally trust and know I can go to with any problems or just to hang out. One of them, I spend hours laughing with every week. Unfortunately, they are all Mamas, so despite the fact that I am very close with them, we have very little in common because our lives are so different. I am desperately in need of young single girlfriends, but that is also a struggle because most of the girls my age are still in Secondary School, at university, or have finished their secondary studies and still live at home and are treated very much like children. Even for me, people call me a girl and it is difficult for me to get people to take me seriously despite the fact that I am capable of taking care of myself and have finished university. But that doesn’t mean that I’ve given up and I’m starting to make some progress. Last week I was visiting a family in the village and a single nurse was there and turns out she lives in Ruhuha, so I am determined to befriend her. As mentioned in my previous post, last night I had a meeting with a group of girls and I shamelessly made it known that I need some single friends and if they ever want to do anything, to let me know. Please don’t think I’m lonely cause by no means is that the case, I just miss the sort of friendships I had in the U.S. with all my girlfriends and would very much like to find one or two close girlfriends here. Mamas are great, but they have kids, a lot of housework, and other obligations that prevent them from filling the void completely. Last week two female volunteers from Bugesera came to visit for the night and reminded me how fun it was to have a girls’ night with friends who are my age. I know I’ll have to tread carefully because I am still the outsider and people have many different reasons – good and bad - for wanting to get close to me, but at this point not having young friends seems to be the only thing lacking here.
One really exciting development has been the changes in the relationship between me and my host family. Mama and Papa Robert are very private people and despite our cordial relationship, we never really talked much unless there was a problem. A couple weeks ago I had a bad cold and Mama Robert brought me food and tea multiple times a day. I’ve started bringing them food that I bake or American food that is sent to me. I had never been invited to visit them or do anything very personal…until this weekend. Last night I was invited to have dinner with Mama, Papa, and Providence (their truck driver who lives here too) at their house. It was really nice; we talked a little and watched t.v. for a bit after. Then, this morning Mama invited me to have tea and bread for breakfast. This may not seem like much, but I’m excited about these baby steps and really hope that we will become a lot closer over the coming weeks and months.
Sorry if this blog seemed like I was complaining a lot; that wasn’t the intent. I really just want people at home to know how difficult it is for me to go without hearing from them and how I really miss the friendships I have in the U.S. – they are so very important to me and I am trying to recreate them here because of how happy they make me. Anyways, I am off to relax for a bit before Mama Luange and her 3 year old daughter, Luange, come to visit this afternoon. I miss you all and really hope to hear from some of you soon!!

Settling Into a Very Busy Rhythm

As many of you know, I am not one to keep much free time for myself; I like to stay busy and get involved in many different things. For the last five months I’ve been becoming more and more stir crazy; teaching sixteen hours a week was not enough and I was struggling to get other projects up and running. Well, I can now say that has changed for the better. I now have my hands in many different pots and there are some exciting prospects for secondary projects. So all and all, things are looking up and I’m more motivated and excited about the coming weeks and months.
                All in all, teaching is going well and I am starting to have fun with it. I teach listening and speaking to S1 and S2, which means that no one really cares what I am teaching; students take the national exam in S3 and the exam doesn’t test on listening or speaking, so in the eyes of the administration at school, what I am teaching is relatively inconsequential. So, I might as well have fun. I have my S2s working on making a newspaper in groups, which has been a huge challenge because it involves so many new skills and creative thinking on their part. The whole concept of anything being OK and correct in terms of titles, sections, subjects of cartoons, etc. is very difficult for these students who are often taught in a way that suggests that there is only one correct answer. My S1s are slowly improving; there has been an increase in participation from the students and marks on homework have increased all around – we’ll see how the first quiz of the term goes next week. Because I teach two, two hour, lessons four times each every week, I get pretty bored and sometimes feel bad for the students who are stuck with me at the end of the week because by that point I’m sick of answering the same questions a million times. So I’ve started to make myself laugh in class. A fellow volunteer told me how she makes her kids do jumping jacks as a punishment – the kids are embarrassed and the teacher gets a good laugh – so I’ve started to do something similar. I had a problem with kids doing work for other classes during English, so to nip that in the butt I now make students do push-ups if I catch them looking at their Biology book or copying Entrepreneurship notes. It is absolutely hilarious to watch and the kids are so embarrassed that they stay pretty focused on me for the rest of class. I have also gotten more strict, kicking students out if I have to tell them to stop talking multiple time or if there is any physical contact of any kind (hitting, punching, and stealing notebooks/pens was on the rise), but at the same time I feel the kids appreciate it. I put question buckets in classes at the beginning of the term and on a regular basis I get notes from students telling me how they love the class and if I’m out sick I get notes about them missing me. In a couple of classes I have finished the lesson to a round of applause which definitely feels good when you are tired of teaching for the day.
                So that’s about it for teaching students. I really wish I had my own class so I could really get to know the students and see them more than once a week, but I’ll definitely ask for a change next year. I teach Monday through Friday from 7:20 to 11, which is enough to leave me wanting a grande sugar-free vanilla americano, but now I’ve found myself working 10-12 hours Monday-Thursday, which leaves me wanting a triple shot americano. After teaching I usually do some marking for an hour before lunch and then eat with the teachers. After lunch I try to visit some people in the village or go to meetings with people to try to start secondary projects. Then, starting at 4 pm, I have to be back at school Monday-Wednesday. Monday afternoons is English club for students. On Tuesdays I teach English to the Secondary teachers. And on Wednesday, I teach the Primary teachers.
                Since I’ve arrived I’ve really wanted to get involved in projects outside of teaching; community development is something I really love and working with the community that I live with seemed like a great way to get to know people. That has taken longer than I had hoped, but now project ideas are starting to fall into place. At school I’m starting to work on a school feeding program for Tuesdays and Thursdays. A couple of years ago Bugesera District suffered from a horrible draught and many families couldn’t feed their children, so the World Food Program stepped up and started a school feeding program at all the schools in the District. Unfortunately, this was just a program of handouts and when the WFP decided to cut the handouts to three days a week, they didn’t give any help to the schools to figure out how to supply food to their kids on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Though my headmaster has known about the cuts since January, a search for a solution did not start until last week when the cutback started. So, the kids now go all day with no food twice a week and the teachers complain more than any grown adults I’ve known. They like to say that with no food there is no life, which I suppose is true, but not eating lunch twice a week until 3 pm is not the end of the world. They and the students had become so accustomed to these handouts, that when it was cut they started to blame the school and said it had to feed the kids, but with the cuts, the schools did not get an increase in their operating budgets, so they don’t have money to buy food for nearly 700 people. So, along with some teachers and hopefully some parents, we are going to start working on a budget and figure out a contribution scheme for parents, teachers, and the school so that all parties are invested in the system and the sole responsibility does not fall on the parents or the school. I’m looking to put a Plan of Action together this week and begin discussing with the teachers and the headmaster to get a budget together. From there we can have a discussion with parents and teachers to determine who can contribute what. From what I’ve heard, the maximum needed to feed students twice a week for a month is about $1.20 US, so hopefully if the cost is divided amongst three groups, we can make this happen.
                Last week I had the opportunity to meet with the Social Affairs officer at the Sector Office and he helped to highlight some of the problems that I could help with in the community. Of course, the first thing he mentioned was teaching English, but I’m kind of trying to avoid expanding my English teaching; I know that I have a lot more to offer than just teaching people English and I’m getting pretty tired of my days being taken up with teaching English to students and teachers. He also discussed job creation for youth and women, HIV/AIDS, family planning, alcohol and drug awareness, all of which I would be very interested in working on. We decided that we would have a joint meeting with the Youth Council and the Women’s Council this Wednesday and discuss with them what they would be interested in working on. Stay tuned for more info on that later this week.
                Last night I had a meeting with a small group of girls who are my age. My reason for meeting with them was two-fold: I want more single girlfriends and I feel like this big push for girls’ education and gender balance serves girls who are going to school and for university educated women who are competing for jobs in bigger towns or the city. There seems to be a gap for girls who have finished secondary school and don’t continue on to university. There is no sort of support system or public campaign for low-level jobs for secondary school educated girls, one reason is because so many children finish secondary school and don’t continue to university leaving a huge difference between the number of available low-level jobs and the huge number of young adults looking for work in the villages and small towns. So I asked a shopkeeper who I have become very close with to help me put together a group of girls to see what they had to say. For the most part their ideas required a lot of money (starting a jewelry and women’s clothing shop), but one idea really stuck out – creating a cultural center where people can learn traditional dances, music, and crafts. These are skills that the girls are able to teach and it would provide them with a job and the community as a whole could benefit from it. I told them that I want to focus on ideas that will help give them a job or experience, but also be something that more than just this small group of girls would benefit from. Whether it is starting a public campaign to help the many prostitutes in Ruhuha or starting some sort of cooperative that could be used as a model for others, I want them to think of more than what they want and think of things that they could support and others will learn from. I don’t know if this will turn into anything, but we are meeting again on Thursday to see what else they were able to think of.
                Between teaching students and teachers, starting projects at school, and holding discussions in the communities, I am really busy and loving every minute of it. It is really nice to hear people’s ideas and see how our skills and ideas can work together to benefit people within a specific group or community. Usually when I come home at 6 every night, I function for maybe another hour/hour and a half and then I enter a semi-vegetative state and pass out by 8:30. By Friday, technically my day off, I try to sleep in to 8 or 9, but then I always find myself running to school to work on something or appeasing the many mamas who call during the week asking me to visit and I have to politely tell them I’m really busy. Peace Corps really is turning into a 24/7 job; even if I’m not doing any formal teaching or working on projects, I still have to be “on” – talking to people in the community in Kinyarwanda and visiting people. In the U.S. if I go to visit a friend or family I can relax and joke around, but here I’m still the foreigner and the differences in culture and language can often make visits exhausting and stressful. Going for a walk or running errands is also a challenge; people are yelling “muzungu”, or “Salah Salah” (that r in the middle is a struggle for Rwandans), talking to me in fast Kinyarwanda (cause a few too many people have spread the rumor that I’m fluent in the language). The smile has to always be there; anonymity is never an option when you are the only foreigner in a community. Though I might be singing a different tune in a month or so, for right now, I wouldn’t have things any other way.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Perfect Beach Day in a Land-Locked Country

Today I found myself sitting in the teacher’s room at school staring outside and thinking “Today is the perfect beach day.” The sky was blue with huge fluffy white clouds rolling through and there was a light breeze – you know, to cool you down while working on your tan and to keep the greenheads away. I then sadly remembered that I live in Rwanda, a beautiful country, but still a country without an ocean. As the school years come to an end at home and the summer tourist season begins on the Cape, I can’t help but think about the beaches, longer daylight hours, band concerts in Chatham (and penny candy of course!), the 4th of July parade, my birthday with family, late night ice cream runs in our pajamas, grilled food, and all of the other wonderful things about summer on Cape Cod.
                This wonderful land-locked beach day has become a common occurrence. The wet season is coming to an end and the wrath of the dry season will soon be upon us. We are working our way through the “spring” (an 80 degree spring) in Bugesera district where we still have a little rain, but soon the dusty roads will begin to coat my clothes, water will become scarce (so I’ve been told), and middle-of-the-day outings around the widest road I’ve ever seen (the market used to be in the middle of the shops, next to the road, but it moved and now the space it occupied has made room for an abnormally wide road). I’m sure this will all have a lovely effect on my students. The classrooms are like ovens and even on a warm day it can be unbearable, so I can’t wait for a hot day to really slow us down.
                On a different, but similar note, I have been thinking about my life muri Amerika and my life mu Rwanda and found another funny parallel between the two – bridges. Growing up on Cape Cod, it was always a huge deal when we made a trip over the bridge to go shopping or to visit family or to spend a day in Boston. Well, much like the good ‘ole Sagamore and Bourne Bridges, whenever I want to leave my site to go to Nyamata, my district capital, or Kigali, my trip is highlighted by the trip over two bridges. Now these bridges are certainly not like the mammoth bridges we are used to; there are no tug boats, yachts, or ships going through the channel. Over the Cape Cod bridges, I always held my breath worried that I would go too far left on the narrow bridge and side-swipe another car. Here, I hold my breath in fear that the bridge will collapse at any second. The bridge from Nyamata to Kigali is nice and I often see small wood dinghies transporting wood up the river, but the bridge over the marsh from site to Nyamata is made of cracking, crumbling, and rattling wood beams that lay across metal supports. The bus goes over the cement hump on one side then rattles across these boards – many of which have broken in the last few months – then back up over the cement hump on the other side. For those of you who know Chatham, it is not like going over the draw-bridge; a solid sturdy wooden bridge. Imagine going over that bridge with all the boards loose and some sagging lower than others, making it difficult for the bus to pass over.
 Despite the fear associated with this bridge, passing over it at sunset or just after dark is an amazing site; the marsh is full of fireflies, crickets and peepers so not only does it look like there are tiny lanterns throughout the reeds, but it sounds like a late summer night sitting on the back porch at home. Just like the Sagamore and Bourne Bridges marked our departure into the real world; these bridges mark my journey from village life to a slightly more modern life (Nyamata) and to an overwhelming, modern, loud and chaotic life (Kigali).
                I’m sure I’ll be drawing parallels between my life here and my life in America for the rest of my time here, but I thought I’d share these two with you all. The ocean, the beach, and the Cape (and the bridges) have been such huge parts of my and my family’s lives, so sitting in the teacher’s room today and realizing that this will be my first summer without even the shortest visit was a little sad. I won’t miss sitting in traffic on the bridge or suicide alley; I won’t miss New Yorkers driving the wrong way around the rotary; and I won’t miss battling tourists on the sidewalk or in the Squire. But, I will miss going to the beach on my day off with sandwiches from the local shops; I will miss the battle over who is driving to get ice cream and who’s paying; I will miss attempting to grill some new fruit or vegetable; and as the dry season approaches, I will surely miss having central AC J

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Pictures

I am continually adding pictures to my Picasa web album, so keep checking back for new additions!

www.picasaweb.google.com/sarahdoyle14

I'm working on getting more shots of my community, but because Rwandans are so private they tend to get nervous when you go to take pictures. The plan is to wake up very early at some point and run out into the street and start snapping away, but that's easier said than done at 6 AM when my bed is a lot more appealing then looking like the crazy American running around with a camera.

Reflections on a Week of National Mourning - Icyunamo

So icyunamo, the week of mourning to commemorate the Rwandan Genocide against the Tutsis, has come and gone and I’m sorry I haven’t taken the chance to comment on it sooner. Starting on April 7th, the day after that the President’s plane was shot down in 1994, which many say was the signal for the start of the genocide, until the 13th, every city, town, and village in Rwanda spent at least a couple hours every afternoon discussing issues surrounding the genocide and development in Rwanda since ’94. As I’m sure you all know, in 1994 800,000 Tutsis were killed by Hutus over a period of 100 days. Thousands of people were massacred by the machete-wielding hands of their neighbors, husbands, family, and other members of their community. Hutu husbands who had married Tutsi wives murdered the women and their children. Priests harbored Tutsis in churches throughout the country and then directed the interhamwe and Hutu militias to the churches to kill them all. French soldiers were supposed to be here as a humanitarian force, but instead checked the Rwandans’ identity cards and directed Tutsis towards their Hutu killers. It’s a tragic history, which I cannot begin to recount in this blog post, but if you have any questions, I’d be happy to direct you towards some excellent sources.
In Ruhuha, the town where I live, the genocide had a profound effect on the community, so there were many events that were unique to the community throughout the week. On the 7th, all of the villages lined up at the top of the hill in town and marched to the Catholic Church where mass was said to remember the 700 Tutsis that were massacred in the church. The lone survivor (I was told she was the only survivor, but do not know how true that is) then stood and bravely told her story about militias searching the classrooms for people hiding in the ceiling and how they surrounded the church and killed everyone inside. The woman I was with pointed out the wife of the man who took charge of killing all the Tutsi children in the area, another woman who spent 12 years in prison for killing but was released when she started to tell authorities where they buried and threw bodies, a woman who was Tutsi and wasn’t killed because the militiamen thought she was beautiful and instead gang raped her every day-she now has full-blown AIDS, and an older man whose entire family was massacred. All of these people were coexisting together. Hutus sitting with Tutsis. Perpetrators sitting with survivors.
 It is difficult as an outsider to understand the reconciliation process, but somehow, at least publicly, ethnicity has been cast aside and everyone is Rwandan. Despite what is said, ethnicity is still present under the surface and Hutus and Tutsis still have strong opinions against one another. I have only been here for six months and do not want to comment on it too much, but as I acquire a better understanding of the continuing presence and dynamic of ethnicity in Rwanda, I will post about it.
From the church we all walked to the Genocide Memorial at the Ruhuha Sector office. I had been there the week before for umuganda when we worked to cut the grass, weed, and clean the memorial to prepare for the ceremonies. On umuganda Saturday, the memorial was open and I looked inside to see rows and rows of skulls. On the 7th, I tried to get a figure for the number of people buried there and got estimates of 10-20 thousand. At the memorial, we listened to the President’s address to the nation. Then survivors along with all the religious leaders, the Mayor of Bugesera, and all local leaders placed flowers on the memorial and the day was over.
That was Thursday. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday we had afternoon meetings in the village to discuss different issues like the history of the genocide and its definition, economic development since ’94, education and health care, and many other things. One thing that was missing was a discussion of ethnicity- the cause of the genocide and a continuing underlying problem in Rwanda. I understand why the government doesn’t want to continue discussing this issue – everyone is Rwandan – but based on side discussions, it appears that there is still deep resentment and many parents are passing their ethnic identities and ideas on to their children. Furthermore, ethnicity and the genocide cannot be discussed at schools, except for between a headmaster and a student. So nowhere in Rwanda has there been a continued discussion on ethnicity and the damage it can cause. While understanding why, I found this very frustrating along with the fact that in general there were no discussions about any of the issues. In every village, the government provided a text to be presented to the members of the village, so every day in every village in Rwanda, the same text was presented to the communities, but unfortunately in mine, the people accepted all of the information and no discussion took place. Granted, most of the info was pretty basic, but there was no deep interest in the issues or how it applied to Ruhuha. Critical thinking is a challenge for adults and children alike in Rwanda, but that is neither here nor there and I’m sure I’ll talk about it more in the future.
                On Sunday, I found out that on Monday there would be a burial of remains that had recently been recovered. Because of that, all night on Sunday, there was a traditional mourning period where everyone came together at the Sector offices at 8 PM and stayed until morning to remember those who had died. We watched videos of victims; people sang songs; and survivors told their stories as a bonfire blazed and people huddled together for warmth and comfort. One woman discussed how she was the only survivor from her family and had gone out into the streets after a couple of days to find food and no one would give her any food or water because she was Tutsi. Another talked about fleeing her family’s killers. The hardest part of the night was when one woman broke down while another woman told her story. The woman was young and had a baby in her lap, but something sparked a flashback to the traumatic events that she had experienced and she went crashing to the grown, sending the baby to the dirt. She howled blood-curdling screams – screams like I had never heard before and hope to never hear again. She was paralyzed by trauma. A woman took her baby and some men came and picked her up off the grown and helped her to a building. She couldn’t stand and her feet dragged behind her as she continued to scream. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I sat there shaking, not quite sure how to react. This breakdown sparked small outbursts from other people sitting around me. But together, everyone supported one another and the woman whose story sparked the flashback continued with her story. The woman’s screams could be heard from the building until an ambulance came to get her about an hour later. I eventually went home and digested everything I had heard and seen in preparation for what would come at the burial the following morning.
                Monday morning I went to the memorial where the burial ceremony would take place. In true Rwandan form, the ceremony that was supposed to start at 9 didn’t start until 11. It started with twelve men carrying out two coffins filled with the remains of twenty people. Tutsis were not simply murdered, many were butchered and the different pieces were often scattered so only small parts are usually recovered. The presentation of the coffins sparked a very strong and sobering emotional response from the thousands of people that had gathered. The families of those who were to be buried presented flowers and then the leaders of every religious denomination said a prayer. The pastor of ADEPR, the church where I used to leave, stood and told his story – I had no idea he was a survivor. He talked about fleeing Kigali before the massacres started and sleeping in banana fields and the murder of his father. He talked about running through the rain because that was the time when militias sought cover and the killings stopped for a bit. He talked about laying on the ground under the leaves and palm fronds and the killers stepping right over him. Finally, he talked about running through the valleys at night until he finally reached Burundi, where he stayed for many years. His wife, a teacher at my school, is also a survivor and she and her family were there to bury a member. The Catholic priest said their final rights and blessed the coffins with holy water before they were brought to the memorial and laid to rest. The choir sang a beautiful burial song in Kinyarwanda – I was told the lyrics, but I don’t remember. After the burial, many speeches were given and then we were all sent home. Again, the ceremony was marked by many breakdowns and the ambulance came about four or five times to take those who were traumatized to the health center. Many towns did not have burials – they did not recover any new bodies over the last year – but I feel lucky to have been able to experience not just the burial, but the mourning rituals the night before. After spending my senior year at Hopkins writing a thesis about France’s role in the Rwandan genocide, I am thankful to have been given the opportunity to experience icyunamo with my community in a very positive and peaceful manner – peace is not something that has been guaranteed in past years.
                I could tell more stories I heard about survivors and how some are still being psychologically tortured by their families’ killers (receiving notes saying it will soon be their turn to die, or people pounding on their walls at night to scare them), but I’d rather end this post with my thanks to my community. During a very difficult week of mourning and personal struggles, many people opened up to tell me their stories or to translate or just try their best in simple Kinyarwanda to explain what was going on. I feel very lucky to have a new community that really wants to include me as best they can and help me navigate not just icyunamo, but Rwandan life in general. If I have dirt on my clothes they try to wash it off immediately (it’s no good to have dirty clothes, no matter how poor you are). If I have peanuts in my teeth, they don’t hesitate to tell me (personal appearance is so important). If they know I like limes or green beans, they go to the farm and bring me some back. If they know I want a certain style outfit, they find me fabric and take me to the seamstress (I’ll have a new pants and tunic outfit next Friday). If they know I like sports, they ask me to go to the women’s community aerobics class to meet more women (first class is tomorrow so I’ll let you know how it goes). I am so happy in Ruhuha and thoroughly enjoy being considered an umunyarwanda kazi (Rwandan woman) by other community members and experiencing all of the happy and sad moments that come with that title.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Life as a Teacher - The Joys of Vacation

Who knew that teachers looked forward to vacation more than the students? Well, after twelve weeks of teaching, reviewing, testing, and grading, I am extremely happy to be on vacation for three weeks. I teach English to all of S1 and all of S2, which is the equivalent of teaching every student in grades 7 and 8, but with bigger classes. My S1 classes average about 65 students and S2 averages around 50, so in total I have nearly 500 students. Not only is grading homework compositions a pain, but grading a comprehensive term exam is the farthest thing from a cake-walk. Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching, but I have found it very difficult to get to know the students and form a positive relationship with them since I just pop in and out of their class 2 hours every week. Anyways, after a week of proctoring exams (and catching 3 students cheating) and grading, there was a week to fill out report cards and then we were free to relax. On the last day of the term, there was a ceremony with the parents where all the teachers introduced themselves and we announced the top 5 students in each class. From there, the administration took us to a restaurant and we celebrated the end of the term and had a constructive conversation about challenges and possible solutions in both the primary and secondary school.
                So now, the first week of vacation has just come to a close, during which I did a lot of nothing. I’ve really gotten sucked into The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo series, so after a week, I’m on the third book. I had a sleepover with the other girls from my group who live in Bugesera District, which was a nice break, but on Thursday, April 7th, Genocide Memorial Week, or icyunamo in Kinyarwanda, started and every day since then has been occupied by various events and discussions. I do not want to devote too much time to Memorial week because I plan to write a whole blog post on it when it ends Wednesday, but for now I’ll say that I have been very impressed by how Rwanda has chosen to celebrate such a horrific event and rather than looking at what happened, they focus on all the progress that has been made since ’94. Expect a full post Tuesday or Wednesday about my thoughts on Memorial Week.
                Once Memorial Week ends, I will be venturing eastward for a couple of days to visit Akagera Park and go on a safari before heading all the way west to Kibuye, for one week of training with all the other PCVs from my group. I’m really looking forward to IST (in-service training) since I’ve only seen a handful of people since arriving at site. It’s also a time when we can all relax among Americans and just spend some time being “American” outside the microscopes that we live under at site. Though I love site and I’m slowly getting to know people in my new community, I am expected to abide by Rwandan cultural norms, which can sometimes pose a challenge for a young American girl. Unlike the guys, by 6:30 PM, when it gets dark, I have to be in my house for the night. I can’t be seen drinking alcohol. I’m a single girl living alone, which always leads to the “why don’t you take a Rwandan husband?” questions. So, after three months of being as Rwandan as I can, a week of training with 60-ish other Americans sounds like a good break. 

An Overdue Thank You

After much complaining and a few harassing emails from Mom, I have sat down this morning to fill you all in on what has been going on. But first, I must rectify an issue that has been raised: my not thanking my mother publicly for all of her help during my mini life crises a couple of months ago. Despite the fact that her solving my problems while abroad or traveling is nothing new, it was a minor miracle that she was able to replace all of my things as quickly as she did and ship them to my Country Director, who was home on vacation and was kind enough to bring as many things back as she could. The Director joked when I met her in Kigali that she’s having my mom pack for her next time because of the number of things that she was able to squeeze into every crevice of every package. This is nothing new for Mom. In high school I went off to Colorado with two left sneakers (they looked the same when I was packing!) and when I realized this it was the day before we were going white-water rafting, so sure enough Mom had to overnight me a right sneaker. Then there was the time in England when I threw my wallet away at a soccer field and she had to send me money. Then of course, let’s not forget the time when I went backpacking in Europe and went to make copies of my credit cards before we left and realized at the airport that I had left them on the copier at home. You guessed it, another overnight package was sent to my hostel in Paris. So as you all can see, I am not an easy daughter to send off on trips around the world, but luckily my mother just sighs when I say I’m off to a new destination and prepares for the worst. Well, the closest thing to the worst happened here in Rwanda and rather than dwelling on the crises at hand, the credit card was taken out and everything was replaced. So in summary, thanks Mom for all your help, but remember, it’s only been about 6 months…I have 21 more to go, so get excited J

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Life Update

Hey Everyone!
Sorry that it's been so long, but a lot has been going on. I'm going to do my best to update you on the good, the bad, and the horrible that has happened in the last month and a half, but don't expect much on the bad and horrible. The end of January was great; I was finally falling into a routine and getting close with people in my community. I started coaching the girls' football (soccer) team at school and I don't know, I was very happy with how everything was turning out. Then the bad and horrible happened...I went away for the weekend and a troop of people broke into my house and basically cleaned shop. They were kind enough to leave my clothes, shoes, food (except for my olive oil), and school/office supplies. Unfortunately, they took everything of value, including my mattress and my sheets (they did leave my stuffed animal and pillow - they must have wanted me to be comfortable sleeping on the floor). So that's pretty much all I want to say about that. It was horrible to come home to on a Sunday morning and it has been a pain in the butt to deal with, but in all honesty, things have gone as good as they possibly could considering the circumstances.

So I spent two weeks away from site, jumping back and forth between Kigali and a friend's house in Ngoma District (Eastern Province). I returned to site a week ago to a new house and things are going great. Many of my friends told me to think about changing to a different site and just leaving all the drama in my village behind, but to tell you the truth, the thought never even crossed my mind; I knew I wanted to go back...to a different house of course. If this happened in the U.S., I wouldn't change houses or move to another town; I would add a couple more locks to my door and maybe invest in a security system. I understand that Rwanda is not the U.S., but right now it is home and I have to treat it as such. I didn't want to throw away all of the great relationships I was starting to form or abandon my classes or football team. I knew I couldn't go back to the same house, but I definitely wanted to go back to the same village. So here I am, back at site and incredibly happy.

My new house is in Ruhuha, which is the town near my previous village and school. I live in a compound with a family who is taking great care of me. Mama is always trying to give me tea and will often send someone to buy me things without me asking. Papa is very nice, but I haven't seen him much. Their English and French are amazing, which definitely helps. Their children are at boarding school and I'm looking forward to them coming home during vacation in April. I've been upgraded to a real bathroom with a shower (only cold water), toilet, and sink with running water. It's pretty exciting. The layout of my house is pretty much the same - 3 square rooms with a window in each and a light hanging from the ceiling. I have an outdoor kitchen and I'm still perfecting the technique of food storage.

Coming back to site has gone smoothly. All of the teachers and community members have been extremely supportive. No one forgot my name while I was gone and adults and children still scream "Sarah!" as I walk down the street. The commute to school is a little long, well, it's only 20 minutes but at 7 AM it's a little long. Peace Corps gave me a new bicycle, so that will hopefully be getting me to school and football practice a little faster.

As things continue to progress at site and I have more to report on what's going on, I promise to keep you all updated.

I miss you all and feel free to come visit. Also, please send me mail!! Newspaper articles, candy, gossip magazines, and the such are greatly appreciated.

Love,
Sarah

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

High and Hilarious Moments at Site

  • Greeting all of the Mamas on the street in Kinyarwanda and listening to them whisper (not so quietly of course), in Kinyarwanda, “She knows Kinyarwanda!”
  • Walking home after a long day of teaching and shopping at the market with a crowd of 20 children fighting to hold my hands and play with my hair.
  • Eric, my one year old neighbor, dancing while we sing “do, do, do, do”.
  • The early morning and late night knocking on my gate by students and primary students wanting to greet me and practice their English.
  • Meeting another volunteer that lives about 40 minutes away by foot! Though I won’t see her too often, it’s good to know another American is close by if I need a break.
  • Opening my latrine door and seeing a HUGE toad sitting there. I got my mop and shoved it down the hole. I swear, if I am using the latrine and that thing some-how hops its way out, I will not be very happy.
  • Shopping at the market and being swarmed by people wanting to hear me negotiate in Kinyarwanda.
  • Learning how to light a kerosene lamp – do I need to say anything more about me, Sarah Doyle, trying to learn?
  • Being rushed by 20 goats on their way home. Yeah, I quickly jumped off the ground and stood on the steps.
  • Starting to teach. There is a serious need for English improvement at my school and the kids and teachers are very eager to learn, which makes it easier and more enjoyable to teach them.
  • Constantly being fed by my neighbors. After 3 months of rice and beans, I’ve decided to go with more raw vegetables and avocado/tomato/cheese sandwiches. But because I never cook hot food (and my neighbors know everything I do), they think I don’t eat. I will say though, I appreciate the fries the other day.
  • Getting free celery from the lady I buy carrots, tomatoes, and peppers from because I speak Kinyarwanda and I’m teaching the children English.
  • Getting used to showering in a cement room with a hole in the corner. After I shower and the floor is covered in soapy water, I have to mop it into the hole so it drains outside.
  • I should probably invest in a hammer…I’ve hammered every nail into the wall with a rock.
  • Feeding two kids peanut butter and jelly sandwiches…they ate it with a fork like it was dessert.
  • Walking down the street in my igitenge wrap (just a big piece of local fabric that you wrap like a towel and wear as a skirt) to buy a kilo of sugar (I don’t know what I will do with that much sugar, but it was only 700 francs!). It was 6 pm and everyone was lining up to get their water for the night and boy did I get some stares, but everyone seemed to love it. I think I talked to more people and more people approached me first than any other time I’ve walked down the street.
  • Trying to explain, in Kinyarwanda, to little children at 3 pm that it is no longer “good morning,” but rather “good afternoon.” A few kids have caught on, which I’m hoping will spread to the others.
  • So far I love my site and the people. Everyone said that Rwandans would be very conservative at first in our communities, but I guess I've been lucky. Of course there are some people who are hesitant and will only exchange a simple greeting, but my neighbors and a few families have been more than kind to me and have made it so much easier to go out into the community each day.

Friday, January 14, 2011

New Address!

Hi Everyone,

Now that I am at site, I have gotten a mail box with the other volunteers in the area. There are many problems with the mail system between Rwanda and the US right now, but as far as we can tell we can receive mail, but cannot send anything home. Hopefully I will have more news on the situation soon so that I can start writing during my free time!

My address is:
Sarah Doyle
BP 28
Nyamata, Rwanda

Please write to me or send packages (the flat rate ship packages seem to be the best way to send stuff). Receiving a letter or a card really makes my day!

If you are wondering what to send me:
-powdered anything that just requires water, especially the drink mixes.
-mac and cheese
-pasta sauce and parmesan cheese (i miss italian food)
 -granola bars or cliff bars
-candy!
-magazines
-interesting newspaper or journal articles
-pictures! I desperately need more pictures of home

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Goodbye Life as a PCT, Hello Life as a PCV

Looking at the positives, I’m officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, but sadly that means I have to leave behind my comfortable worry-free life as a Peace Corps Trainee when I was guaranteed three meals and two tea breaks everyday. I am currently at my site in Rango after a whirlwind week and a half of tests, interviews, speech-writing, travel, and amazing eating and shopping in Kigali. The transition process started about three weeks ago when I was asked to give the French speech at the swearing-in ceremony with a fellow trainee, Jed Augustine (a fellow crane member from Model School). In true Sarah form, we found plenty of other things to do besides writing our speech and had the final draft done three days before swearing in. So what took up our time? Well, we had to score intermediate-low on our final Kinyarwanda language exam, so I spent a lot of time studying. We had Christmas and New Years, which we all managed to make the best of. On Christmas Eve we had a White Elephant gift exchange and spent the night dancing at a local hotel. On Christmas day we covered a classroom floor with mattresses, set up a projector and speakers, and spent the day watching movies. The week leading up to New Years was filled with tests. I scored Intermediate-high on my Kinyarwanda test and managed to pass tests for medical, PC policies, safety and security, tech, and cross culture. During this high-stress week, we also found out when we would be leaving for site. I was set to leave straight from Kigali after swearing-in with 4 others, while the rest of our group went back to Nyanza to celebrate. As most of you know, I am not a girl who travels light, so on top of studying and interviewing, I had to pack up my life into a trunk and 2 suitcases (I did it!). New Years Eve was plagued with the usual debauchery, but we also spent the afternoon saying goodbye to our amazing LCFs who helped us conquer everything Rwandan over the last 11 weeks; we all owe them so much and cannot thank them enough for all of their help and patience. On New Years Day, well…I woke up eventually and by the time I got my bearings, it was time to go back to sleep. On the 2nd, we all headed to Kigali to prepare for swearing-in and do some intense shopping to get ready for site installations.
            After hearing so much about this land of wonder, Kigali sure didn’t disappoint. I got a sugar-free vanilla latte (yes, that’s right) at Bourbon CafĂ©, my new favorite place. It felt like I was back in a Starbucks or local coffee shop. I bought pots, buckets, kerosene stoves, silverware, floor mats, staple foods, powder soap to wash my clothes (by hand), a blanket, and so much more. I’m happy that my site is not Kigali because it is not the real Rwanda, but I am happy to know that it is there and when I need some Indian food or a latte (or money to pay for those things), I can take a 2 hour bus trip to get it. After a day of madness and gorging on comfort food, I spent the night practicing my speech and preparing for the goodbyes to come.
Monday the 3rd – the day of swearing-in – was a very American morning. It started with the girls running around straightening their hair and doing their makeup, while the boys sat around in their suits trying to tie their ties. Mup was supposed to come with the buses at 8:30 so we could get some breakfast before the ceremony, but in true Rwandan form, the buses showed up at 9:30 with the ceremony starting at 10. We rolled up to the American Embassy around 9:50, where the Fulbright scholars (who joined us for training about halfway through) came to inform us that we were supposed to be at the Ambassador’s residence, not at the Embassy. So, back on the buses we went and arrived at his house with about 5 minutes to spare (but of course nothing starts on time in Rwanda). I would say around 10:15 the ceremony got underway with speeches from the Peace Corps Director, a representative from the Ministry of Education, the American Ambassador to Rwanda, the Rwandan Minister of Health, and then us PCTs. English went first, then French, and finally Kinyarwanda. All of the speeches went very well and drew many bouts of laughter and applause from the audience as well as our colleagues. Finally, we swore in, taking an oath that was surprisingly hard to remember sentence by sentence (so many big words!) and then ran off for pictures and some amazing American food. Eventually, we had to pull ourselves away from the comforts of the Ambassador’s residence and head to the Peace Corps office for another reception with Rwandan food – a little bit of a let down after we ate a ton of American food. After taking care of some house keeping issues, we said goodbye to the staff and went to town for one last shopping spree. We then piled back onto the buses with all of our purchases and headed back to the training compound where I had to say my goodbyes to the sixty volunteers heading back to Nyanza. We have all become so close over the last three months that it is hard to imagine how we are going to go three months without seeing each other, but luckily it is not Niger, as our Director and Medical Officer like to remind us (they both just transferred from there), and none of us are getting deathly ill, we have a decent climate, and we can easily communicate with one another. So, off the sixty volunteers went to Nyanza, while the five of us prepared for our journey to site the next morning.
The trucks and Gordie came to the training compound at 8 am on the 4th. We loaded up all of our stuff and then headed on our way. Allison was the first to be dropped off, second was me, and then went Thais, Katie, and Gordon. So last week during my evaluation interview, I asked one question: “Is my house ready?” I received the response, “Yes, of course!” Yeah, definitely not the case, which is fine because I love living with my headmaster and his wife, but boy did that short response a week ago set me up for a letdown upon my arrival. My headmaster said that they were doing some “painting” and I would be able to move in the next morning. So, we all went to visit the house, and well “painting” meant cementing, fixing the electrical, filling in a latrine, cleaning another latrine, sanding, building a wall, installing 2 new doors, and painting. So that was Tuesday and it is now 10 PM on Thursday and I am still at the Headmaster’s house. Maybe tomorrow I’ll move? Wenda…I love my site and today I was introduced to part of the community at a choral celebration for the opening of the newly renovated church, which was a very nice ceremony, but I am ready to unpack all of my things and settle in (and learn how to light a kerosene stove) before school starts on Monday.
My next task in my new community is to integrate – so easy to say and not so easy to do. In America, I’m a relatively shy person, but here that doesn’t fly. I have to go out and meet as many people as possible over the next few weeks and gradually become a part of the community. I need to make friends and earn the respect of my colleagues and elders in the community. I need to prove that I am not just a girl (I’m not considered a woman because I am not married and have no children), but a girl that has skills and is willing to share them with the community. I am ready to learn as much as I can about the culture. Today I was scolded by two older women for crossing my legs. I’m still not sure why, but in looking around it looked like only men crossed their legs while the women just kept their knees together. I don’t know really, but I went with it. The next month will be especially hard, but if I put in the time, I think it will also be extremely rewarding. I am excited to start teaching, coaching soccer (did I mention I’m starting/coaching a girls team?), teaching the teachers English, and organizing a library. The next two years will be difficult, but I can already tell they will be amazing and rewarding. I really look forward to sharing the good, the bad, the funny, and the sad – the ups and downs as a PCV in Rwanda – with you all.