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.
