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).

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 4^th 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.

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.

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 4^th 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

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.