Somehow I am suddenly left with just
a handful of time left here in Rwanda, and in the Peace Corps. I had two years
of warning, and when there’s a set time limit it’s hard not to count down, yet
here I am surprised, and admittedly somewhat scared. How did I get here, and
where is here? I’m about to embark on another adventure where I get to come
full face with how the world I once knew has changed, and maybe even more
scary, how I have changed. Countless nights of having way too much time to
myself, thinking, delving into introspection uncontrollably, and now I actually
have to make all of it cohesive. How am I going to do that? Yeah, it’s scary.
And what of this world I am returning to? Granted I’ve had a once in a life
time experience that I have loved and hated and wouldn’t trade at all, but I
question if I’m behind all the other 25 year olds in the world, at least in the
context of existing in a different world. For example… what in the heck is the
Harlem shake? OY!
It’s hard to explain how things
change as far as a way of life. I remember telling my dad for a long time that
I won’t know how to exist back home anymore. Granted I’m sure things will come
back to me, but he somewhat insinuated that I couldn’t forget, until he
came to Rwanda. His tone almost instantly changed to something along the lines
of “yeah, you’re going to be so culture shocked coming home!” Don’t I know it? He
recently sent me a can opener in a package. The first time I used it, my first
reaction was, “this is way too easy!” I had been using a hammer and nail to
open my cans, and to be honest, although tedious, it seemed to work just fine.
Although I am so ready not to have to lug jerry cans of water to my house, to
be able to buy diverse and good food, and good brews, amongst other things,
it’s really going to be hard to say goodbye to this place that I have come to
call home, a place I’ve spent nearly a 12th of my life in. (Not high
in fractions, but it feels high!)
My community knows that I am getting
close, and they ask me regularly when I am leaving. I say about three months,
and they get sad and say that it’s not possible, it cannot be done. They ask if
I will return to Rwanda, to which I reply “I want to.” It’s hard to explain
that I don’t know what I’m doing three months from now, let alone when I will
be back here, if I will ever make it back here. Most of you reading know me
pretty well and know that I’m not so good at not having a plan. My parents are
probably getting tired of repeating, what should be an absurdly easy thing to
me now after two years in Africa, but somehow it’s not, and that thing is to be
patient. Surprisingly, I think I have become more patient and more easy-going,
two things that I never would have used to describe myself, but now my future
is looming over me, and I am taunting myself over my lack of futuristic
comprehension. OY!
So now I am wrapping up projects and
trying to prepare all my friends and the friendly faces I see each day for my
departure. But really, I’m working to prepare myself. My animal husbandry
project has been a surprising success in my mind. The first two months of the
project produced about 580 eggs for 52
chickens. One participant said her rabbits produced 30 babies, which I don’t
think is possible, even if all four female rabbits gave birth, but the babies
died. So, the rabbits haven’t been as successful, but I am still pleased with
the project. My gender based violence training has reached a somewhat stalled
point as it is now April, genocide commemoration month. Next week is
commemoration week. On April 7th 1994, the killing started in
Rwanda, and within 100 days over 1 million Rwandans were slaughtered. It’s an
intense month, and things kind of shut down around the country, especially next
week. There are meetings every afternoon in which role is taken and if you are
seen on the streets during the meetings you can be arrested (not so much if you
are a foreigner). It’s a big deal still, 19 years later.
So this world has been a wonderfully
absurd emotional roller coaster with some of my highest highs and lowest lows
of my life thus far. I am so relieved and happy right now that I am in the most
positive place mentally of my service thus far. I was proud of myself when some
idiots hoed up my garden, and all they could say to me when I called them out
about it was “be patient.” I just sighed, recognized that they probably didn’t
know any better, and walked away. There was no yelling, anger or frustration
that ate away at me, that I couldn’t let go of for hours, days or weeks. I
simply left it at that and walked away. It’s taken me a year a half to get to
the point that I could shrug off the more basic struggles of life and try to go
with the flow. It’s hard to really describe to another if they haven’t
experienced living this intimately in another culture, and that’s not to
downplay anyone else’s life experience, it’s just simply hard to describe.
One of the most challenging things
I’ve had to deal with here is this emotional roller coaster. At times I would
walk away after yelling at a child for calling me “white person” and instantly
wonder where inside of me such hostility came from. I would wake up and have to
interact with a neighbor when all I was trying to do was make it to the
bathroom, and my day would be ruined. The neighbor was never mean, just
something inside of me was triggered and I wouldn’t be able to stop my
hostility for the rest of the day. I would snap at a coworker or some person
who came to stare at the white person and instantly wonder why I was acting
that way, yet turn around and do it again seconds later. There were many times
that I really didn’t like the person I was emanating and would recognize that I
wanted to change it, yet my emotions were always on the surface and seemingly
uncontrollable.
That’s not to say that this
experience wasn’t also filled with laughter, love, happiness and wonderment. It
has been, and it has been amazing. It’s so amazing to go from not knowing how
to say bathroom, to being able to have real conversations about the war in
Congo with my host mother, and explaining how to use a computer, and having
inside jokes with everyone I know. It’s nice to see people light up when
they’re with me, and feel myself transformed by their inner light. It’s nice to
see an entire community advocating for me, informing others of who I am and
what I mean to this place. They say I am “Munezero wacu” or “our Munezero”
(Munezero being my Rwandan name). It’s nice to have people laugh with me, share
curiosity with me, and genuinely care. How far I have come. This is amazing,
and I am very happy. That’s not to say that I’m not ready to come home,
although it’s going to be really hard to leave.
As I am nearing my end I have
continued to do some traveling. Recently I traveled to the east to visit some
of my friends from the health group who arrived a year after mine (almost all
of them were stationed in the east). It was rainy and cloudy which was perfect
for me as the east is known for being hot. It was really nice to spend some
time in the east though and really soak up the landscape. As it’s the rainy
season everything was green, but more savannah green, less rainforest green
like where I live. I had so many great conversations with the different people
who hosted me. We talked about life in Rwanda, life back home, discussed issues
and pop culture. It’s always nice to talk to people from the United States who
are experiencing the same things that we are.
It is also kind of cool to see the
house and environment that we each make for ourselves. What do we hang on our
walls, what furniture do we have made. What are our cooking habits like. Aside
from still getting overheated, and some mosquitoes, the trip was wonderful. The
place that had the most mosquitoes was down by a volunteer named Ian. He lives
really close to the Tanzanian border, by the waterfall, and we were able to go
back and check it out, which was beautiful… again. But he so kindly gave me his
room to sleep in and I stupidly didn’t open any windows initially. It was so
hot! I’ve become a radiator. I don’t know if I was like that in the states, but
I always seem to be warm, especially when I’m sleeping. I’m so glad I live
where I do here.
The trip east was full of bus rides
to random towns and random bars for lunches and a few beers. The longest day
was coming home. I caught a bus at around 8AM to Kigali, and from there, within
20 minutes was on a bus to Cyangugu. I arrived back home at about 3:30PM, after
a very full day of travelling. But it was worth it. I don’t have any other
travel plans, but within a month I have my close of service conference in
Kigali. Cinco de Mayo this year will also mark my two years of being in Africa.
Goodness gracious that’s weird. It feels like there’s so much left to do, yet
also not that much. My life is in a weird sort of fast forward coupled with a
somewhat static seeming existence. Everything seems contradictory at times, but
maybe that’s how my life was back home… I just can’t remember. Soon enough. I
am planning a short trip to see Victoria Falls after I finish… my brother might
not let me come home without seeing it. Then I will be homeward bound, two days
of flights later I will end up in PDX. OY….
Well, in the belated sense of St.
Patty’s Day… Until we meet again, may Spring finally take the place of Winter,
and flowers and trees begin to blossom again, coloring the landscape like the
fabrics of Africa, and may the river levels hold high enough for rafting until
after I’m back (mostly the river levels thing though)! Much love!
Pictures: 1. My friend Evelyne in her and her husband's shop in my village. This is where I buy almost all of my food and supplies (mostly meaning toilet paper)! The blue material wrapped around her is holding her four month old baby boy on her back while she works. 2. The view from my "back yard" looking up towards Nyungwe. 3. My first broken down bus in Rwanda, not too bad of a rate, 1 every two years. 4&5. The waterfall at the border of Tanzania and Rwanda in a place called Russumo. And of course, the African version of myself. 6. The view of the valley above the waterfall. 7. A little village, and Rwandan bus right by the border.
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