I have been immensely fortunate in my life to be surrounded by amazing people, but especially amazing women. From my family, (my mother, grandmothers, aunts) to my group of women friends, I truly know incredible women. They are smart, intuitive, innovative, free-spirited, insightful, creative, unique, powerful, and life-altering (at least to my life).
Coming to Rwanda, I was dropped into a family where I now had four Rwandan sisters as well as a Rwandan host-mother. I found it easy to communicate with my sisters while I was living there, but I would sit in awkward silences across the table from my host-mother. I would point to something and fumble out “iki n’iki” which means “what is this.” She would say a word and I would struggle with saying it over and over as a way to fill these silences. I would walk out of my room unsure of cultural acceptability of my outfits and say “ntakibazo?” which means “no problem.” So this was my connection with my host mother. All I wanted, and I remember thinking to myself, all I want with my language level is to be able to have a conversation and therefore a relationship with this woman.
Mama Doka, my host-mother, got married at 17 while living in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC); her husband, Pastor Bonnke, is also Rwandan. She gave birth to her first five children in DRC before returning to Rwanda a year or two after the genocide. She speaks French, Kinyarwanda and Swahili fluently and never had much schooling, none after she got married. She is a pastor’s wife, and a Rwandan woman which means she takes care of her husband. She raises the children, she does the cooking, cleaning, laundry, everything. I’ve heard there is a saying in Rwanda, that once a man gets married he’ll never have to do his own laundry again. Her oldest child is in university in Uganda, their oldest girl just started university in December.
So, I sat across from her for ten weeks hoping to be able to have the slightest conversation other than, “what is this” again. This woman who raised seven amazing kids and had also taken in her brother’s son while I was living there. This woman who would walk to the market, returning with a large bag of produce on her head, who would farm cassava at dawn, then come home and make sure everyone was ready for school, including me. I am inspired by her, just like all those other amazing women who have helped shape who I am, how I look at the world, and what kind of woman I want to be.
Rwandans (in general) tend to have a look on their faces that I would equate to a scowl. This does not necessarily imply they’re discontent because as soon as I greet them they tip their hat and grin. I laugh regularly with Rwandans and we make jokes all the time. But many Rwandans, when taking on a face of non-expression, can appear unhappy. I received this look from my host mother a lot. In our silent breakfasts, or alone together, unable to communicate. But as my Kinyarwanda language level improved, the less I saw that face and the more I heard her laugh. Now when I talk to her on the phone, she has one of those voices you can hear the smile in.
So this is my tribute to my host-mother, but also to all the women in my life, friends and family, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, as well as how much you’ve given me without even knowing! This, of course, is not to downplay the men in my life, as I know incredible men too who have shaped and changed me for the better, who have taught me life lessons and helped make me into me. Thanks to you all as well, but I’m sorry, this particular post was dedicated to the women I know.
As for the rest of my life, not much has changed since my last post. Although it’s been almost a month, no special events or trips have occurred. Peace Corps Rwanda recently had a program review (being that it is a new program, only three years old so far since their return after the 1994 Genocide). People from Peace Corps Washington came out, amongst other PC characters. They came to my site to visit, and the fact that I’m living with three Rwandan men was revisited and brought to light, apparently. Although I voiced concerns initially, I have not actually had any problems and I’ve come to love my house, it is my Rwandan home. I have decorated the house, bought furniture, etc. On my way into Kigali the other weekend I got a call from my program director about having a meeting. Turns out, they want my housing situation to change, which I understand, but also makes me a little sad because I don’t want to leave my house. But, we will see what happens there.
As I mentioned I was in Kigali (the capital city) for a weekend and am going back this coming one for meetings. It was the mental break and rejuvenator that I needed. I was able to visit with other PCVs (volunteers), but also had access to wireless internet and got to Skype with my mom, as well as Ry, K and Gracie. It was the first time that I got to actually see my niece outside of a still picture. The baby in the picture above is my co-worker's daughter. She is about a month younger than Gracie. I got hot showers in Kigali, foreign food (by that I mean, not Rwandan) and was able to rest. My next trip will be full of meetings, but hopefully I can get some
resting done as well.
I had lunch with my site mate (Nick) the other day, who I hadn’t really spent any time with in about a month. He recently learned how to make refried beans, and the cilantro in my garden is finally big enough, so we made refried beans, tortillas and salsa. It was awesome! First salsa I have actually had in nine months!!!! Can any of you believe that? In case you didn’t know, I’m a salsa fiend! So, in other words, life is going well. The picture below is my host mother sorting beans.
I do not mean to consistently put a positive spin on my service, as I have had my share of struggles. For the last few months, I have been emotionally frustrated and exhausted. Consistently trying to be accepted into Rwandan culture, I began to feel like I wasn’t able to be myself. I got tired of being told what to do and how to do it, coupled with people, friends, believing that I couldn’t do it. Finding a “support system” here in country has been a unique experience and “fitting in” in every group I’m supposed to be a part of has appeared as a struggle before me. I recently heard (whether Peace Corps rumor mill or fact is unclear) that Rwanda is apparently a hard country to serve in emotionally, in the scheme of Peace Corps countries. Even before the genocide, there were apparently only 115-ish volunteers who finished their two year service in almost 20 years before PC withdrew in 1993. Whether these statements are true or not, they make me feel a little relieved.
Peace Corps service is not easy wherever it is done, in any of the 70+ countries world-wide that they serve. But these statements, made me feel better about my emotions in country as well as several of the volunteers I know who have gone home early since I’ve been here. I have complete respect for those people making the decision that they did, as I have learned in the nine months I’ve been here, this experience is not for everyone, and although I’m happy with my decision, and definitely want to be here, I’m still not sure if it was “the” right decision for me. I’m sure that is confusing, but I find it hard to articulate many feelings about Peace Corps to myself let alone to people who have not experienced it.
So this experience has had its ups and downs, as it’s supposed to. Not only have I learned a lot about Rwanda, Rwandan Culture, Peace Corps, and international development, I’ve learned a lot about myself, and I expect to learn lots more. How could I not, right? Although I’m not sure completely how this will shape me, I believe that I am here for the right reasons, and I’m learning the lessons that I need to. I’m nearing my tenth month in country, and am ¼ of the way through my service, leaving 1.5 years left. It helps me to think of it in months or quarters though. I have one set of six-months down and three to go. Three sets of six-months doesn’t actually seem that long. The group I came with, arrived in country with 20 people and we are officially down to 15. We are about to be the “senior” group of health volunteers as well, as the group before us finish in May. It’s almost like high school accelerated. One day you wake up and have no idea how you became an upper-classman.
I recently received packages from my mom, dad, and grandma, which was so awesome. Mac and cheese, sour gummy worms, homemade cookies! Although I am running out of room, and it will be slightly obnoxious if I do end up needing to move, these things really help to make me feel normal. It’s the same with any message of home, cards, e-mails, facebook posts. So, thank you all so much for your continued effort at communicating with me. It means a lot and brightens up my day. My wonderful friend Megan sent me to Rwanda with a gift of about ten cards with different scenarios on them. “Open this when you are feeling sick” and other such directions are written on the outsides. These combined with all the other modes of communication with home have been a mental life-saver! Thank you all so very very much! This post was unusual relative to my norm, although it still holds its randomness and general levels of stream-of-consciousness style writing. I hope it was still just as interesting. I love you all and miss you lots! Thanks for all your support and inspiration! I couldn’t do this without all of you back home!
(The first three pictures were just taken around my site, a woman bringing in her tea clippings, the main road that goes through my site and all the way to DRC, and sunflowers!)
No comments:
Post a Comment