Peace Corps service as prophesized in the 1800s

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity… we had everything before us…”

I’m pretty sure that Charles Dickens had Peace Corps service in mind, and maybe even PC service in Rwanda specifically when he wrote those lines in A Tale of Two Cities. So much of this roller coaster, this tragic romance novel with a happy ending, this attempt at understanding bipolar disorder, this unstable stock-market representation graph, this ultimately positive experience, is immensely up and down. It’s probably not for the faint of heart. This is not to say (disclaimer) that I am unhappy or struggling. Surprisingly, currently I am overwhelmingly happy and more confident than ever in having made this decision for my life. Weird how that happens right?

So, two weeks have gone by since last we met via my words and your interest in reading them, and life has continued non-stop. I went to yet another wedding, but this was the first one in which I was really friends with the bride or groom. All of the other weddings have been of co-workers, but the bride in this wedding is essentially my older Rwandan sister. So we awoke early on Saturday, March 17th and arrived at the wedding site in Kamonyi. Arms linked with my sisters, we traveled atop a hill overlooking what was once my Rwandan home and were greeted amidst the trees to brightly decorated pink and blue tents that were to be the place of the traditional wedding ceremony. In case you remember back to a posting, WAY BACK, when I was still in training about destroying stumps with garden hoes… this would be the same place.

Nine AM turned into 11 AM, with a bustle and hectic feel as the bride arrived from the civil ceremony (in front of local authorities) and attempted to change into outfit number two for the day. Her bridesmaids also had multiple outfits, as did her ladies in waiting. Finally they approached the tents, and the groom, who had just as large of entourage, greeted her. This was preceded by a seemingly endless amount of speeches by the father of the groom, and one of the adopted “father’s” of the bride. (Jenn’s biological father was killed in the 1994 Genocide). As we waited, it was really nice to see the faces of many an old friend, and again (if I have not mentioned this enough before) be able to communicate with them, almost fluently.

Food was distributed and speeches were made, although I can’t say that I truly paid too much attention as I was very much distracted by the bride in her neon pink dress with blue polka-dotted lace streaming from her hair and wrapped around the bottom of the dress like a mermaid tail. This ceremony was followed by another long wardrobe change as Jenn switched into the traditional white gown. Then we piled into little buses and headed to Kigali for the church ceremony. Fortunately this ceremony was particularly brief, as I have been in ones that have gone on for hours, and at this point, we were closing in on hour number eight. It was super hot in Kigali as well, which never seems to go away.

After the church ceremony, there was the reception. I finally received my first piece of wedding cake in Rwanda, and it was AMAZING! Whew… ten months without cake! Haha. We were also serenaded by a band singing, “We wish you a happy family” to the tune of “Happy Birthday.” Then we walked to the post-reception party at the new husband and wife’s house. Thankfully they fed us again here! People often ask me, when I get married, if I will have a Rwandan wedding. I have many qualms with this personally due to my beliefs and otherwise, but largely, I have no desire to sit through my own wedding if it’s 13 hours, and I’m pretty sure that many other people would feel the same way. I was honored (as a “member” of the family) with being the “holder of the gourd.” This is the first thing that enters the house of the new couple as a symbol of their future. It was really quite an honor, and, in spite of it being my longest wedding to date, it was also my favorite.

We made it back to my host-family’s home just before midnight. I was reminded around 9 PM of the fact it was Saint Patrick’s Day, and I have to say I was very un-Irish in not having a single drop of alcohol, but I did wear green, and it was a great celebration none-the-less. Sitting through church the next day kind of felt like I had spent my St. Paddy’s Day similar to those of previous years, but, nothing a little nap couldn’t cure.

The 18th, I headed into Kigali to help out with Operation Smile, a US organization that does surgery (for free) to fix cleft palates. They had asked Peace Corps if they could provide some volunteers to help out with entertaining and monitoring patients. So, I did that for a couple days. It was really interesting to be able to talk to people from all over Rwanda. There were a lot of mothers and their children, and a few men. We drew with chalk and crayons, and chatted and served food in the evening. Whether I was working with a really great crew of PCVs, or things were just easier those two days I was there, I’m not sure, as there seemed to be a lot of communication, logistical and comprehension problems throughout the entire ten days or so, between Operation Smile, PCVs and Rwandan counterparts. I a lot of times we weren’t quite sure what we were supposed to be doing. But, nonetheless, the experience was immensely rewarding.

Often it feels as if my service is relatively thankless. I will do a favor for a co-worker or friend, which seems to go unnoticed or followed by an observation which I can only assume is unintentionally insulting. “You are very big today Megan,” or “You are not smart today.” For some reason when complimenting how someone is dressed it is translated into “dressing smartly” so when you are not dressed well or you have a problem (shoes unwashed, too short of sleeves, etc.) it becomes, “you are not smart today.” I am aware that this is largely a cultural difference, and my perceptions of politeness and conscientiousness that do not translate well in this culture, but it is a struggle. This is summarized, I feel in the lack of the word “please” in the Kinyarwanda. Often I am told I must do something, give something, be something, without so much as asking or a “please” extended my way. I realize this has everything to do with my expectations, but again, it’s a struggle. So, being at Operation Smile and seeing tangible and immediate results (yes surgery, but also, the happiness from the people, who are obviously in recovery pain, to just sit and interact with you) was a really nice mentally clarifying experience.

Finally after a meetings with PC staff, I arrived back at my site after seven days of absence. I was immediately confronted by my struggling housing situation, which wiped me out almost instantly, that and all the travel. Unfortunately and fortunately I left again the next day for a weekend of Peace Corps stuff and some good volunteer time. The health 2 group has finished their two year stint as PCVs, which is awesome and sad, because they are such a great group of people. So, we had one last hurrah, so to speak. Friday, I helped Sally and Ryan (two H2 PCVs) along with some others, put the finishing touches on the world map they painted on a wall of a community library that Ryan helped build in the community. It turned out amazingly! Afterwards we went out for akabenz, pork that you order by the kilo, and a couple brews.

Saturday was spent in meetings and eating muzungu food. We had a multi-region meeting to discuss a ton of stuff, amongst a group of around maybe 25 PCVs. Three hours later, we adjourned the meeting, all a little bit more ready to face Genocide Memorial Week, plan future camps GLOW and BE, and with understanding of Peace Corps committees and functions. Unfortunately and fortunately it was too late to catch a bus back home. I was dreaming of my bed, my room, my house back at site, but I did have lots of fun at yet another Pork Place filled with new PCV friends, discussions, and later, dancing. I can’t say it wasn’t amazing to be back home on Sunday, although I need to clean my room, and it’s unclear whether this particular house will continue being my home, but tuzareba, we will see.

Life really is quite good and my world is moving forward, changing, not changing, but the world turns on, and me with it. Projects are moving forward alarmingly fast, yet seemingly slow. Does this represent the bi-polarness I seem to be feeling? Updates on my PC life include, the upcoming Genocide Mourning Week April 7th through the 13th, and the entire month of April is Genocide Memorial Month. My mother begins her African adventure on May 9th! Followed by my mid-service conference (PCVs have this after/around a year in service) in June. Ups and downs and greats and stress filled moments, but until we meet again, may the rains fall soft upon your fields (it is rainy season after all!) Miss you all!

Pictures: 1. The ladies in waiting at the wedding. My host sister, Aline, is the second one from the left. 2. The bride, groom, and me sandwiched between my host parents. 3.The bride and her bridesmaids (I love the maid of honor's hat!) 4.Aline, a random grandmother, me and Solange, a friend from Kamonyi. 5.Us doing a Jersey Shore fist pump in front of Sally and Ryan's world map.