Becoming....

            I remember sitting in my women’s studies class during the winter term of 2007. It was shortly after the plane crash. I was still living in Linds’ and my apartment, and I was sitting in this boring class with a horrible teacher who later told me she didn’t care if I was going to my best friend’s funeral, I couldn’t miss the midterm exam. I reflect on that class still with hostility, mostly because of that teacher and her terrible existence (as I said, hostility) but it’s also interesting that because of one person I met in that class, I began work at the Assault Prevention Shuttle as a first step towards forcing myself out there, to make a friend at school. She also introduced me to my college boyfriend… Weird all the things that came out of this one place… Anyways, I remember sitting there and writing this list, of things I wanted for my life. I stumbled upon it the other day and thought I should share where I was seven years ago….

      -          I want to make tons of friends, and carry on Lindsey’s laughter.

-          I want to take part in making people’s lives better.

-          I want to travel the world.

-          I want to be liked by everyone, but not anyone.

-          I want to quit caring about the little things and focus/remember the important ones.

-          I want to tell everyone and anyone how absolutely beautiful and wonderful they are.

-          I want to talk, listen, learn, know.

-          I want to be open-minded.

-          I want to love everyone and let them know this.

-          I never want to forget the people in my life.

-          I want to carry Linds and Steph in my heart no matter how hard it is, and let them continue to teach me.

-          I want to go to the middle of nowhere and scream and laugh and cry.

-          I want to experience everything like has to offer, that will make me feel more appreciative.

-          I want to be passionate.

-          I want to be sad, and know that happiness will always come.

-          I want to smile in the rain, and open my arms to the sky.

-          I want to plant trees and build homes.

-          I want to help my brother feel loved and independent.

-          I want to be my own person.

-          I want to splash in puddles, because that’s all that matters in the end.

-          I want to fight what I feel is wrong.

-          I want to promote what I feel is right.

-          I want to grieve and take back what has been lost.

-          I want my heart to break and be rebuilt with a multitude of love in many different colors.

-          I want to be someone’s world.

-          I want to find the end of a rainbow.

-          I want to go for a walk, to stop and take a step into a different perspective.

-          I want to BREATHE.

-          I want to travel the world, live by the sea, and make the world a more beautiful place.

Seven years have gone by since one of the most iconic moments of my story took place. Coming home has been interesting. I’ve had a lot of conversations about Lindsey and what she means to so many different people. It’s been hard and quite frankly, I’ve felt very much like an asshole, because relative to so many people, I have moved forwards. Not that they haven’t, but I’d find myself feeling like I don’t mourn her loss enough relative to others. I’m not focusing on her enough, I’m not putting enough…. something into this. But I know I haven’t forgotten or moved on or moved past it, I just love so much focusing on the good things about her and what she’s brought into my life, her and her sister Stephanie. A huge piece of who I am today is because of having known those two incredible women. Another huge piece of who I am today is because of losing them and how I lost them. For someone who outwardly admits to having a terrible memory, I can remember so many details of finding out, of reading her last message to me before she got on the plane, of taking care of Greg, of crying, of putting together the slideshows for the funeral, of all of it.

One of the things that came from this plane crash was an intense reevaluation of who I am and who I want to be. There were things I wanted to change about my life and goals that I had that I never really realized I had. I realized that there were things about me that I really hated, things that made me honestly question why someone like Lindsey would want to be my best friend. I learned a lot about who I was and who I wanted to be, and it wasn’t really until Greg and I broke up that I had the freedom and the will to pursue this person. So I made this list as my terrible teacher was lecturing about the history of feminism, and I came up with a driving vision for myself.

Looking at it now, it’s interesting how many of these things I’ve accomplished or am currently accomplishing. It’s interesting to me, how many of these things I still value immensely but have forgotten to be actively pursuing, and it’s interesting how far I still have to go. There are so many things that I could add to this list, as my vision for the next seven years is becoming hypothetically more focused. But really what it comes down to is that I want to be a better person. Coming back has also shown me that this person I was working towards has not completely come to exist yet. As I said, I have more work to do. I have new challenges as well. I’ve become who I am currently, and probably sacrificed some of the good in me for other pieces of good, but I want them all. Maybe I’m being a little selfish, but on this note, I’m ok with that. I hope that the pursuit of becoming who I want to be never ends. But I also hope that I like myself throughout this pursuit…

I’m not really sure where my life is going to take me. I have been at my job for six months and I usually love it, for the time being. I know it’s not my forever, and there are a lot of things that I’d really like to do, and a lot of things that I’d really like to be. It’s hard to pace myself and let me grow into me in the way I want to without hurting others, and then figuring out that balance, and figuring out how to make myself better because of that… But maybe that’s what I meant when I titled this blog, Some Kind of Wonderful…. I am really happy with my life thus far and all the adventures that I have been enveloped in… and maybe that’s a little of what I meant when I named it that too… Maybe I don’t know yet… and I think that’s ok too.

Ramblings from the post-adventure adventure....

            So, let me begin by acknowledging how long it has been since I posted to this blog. I recognize that six months have gone by, and to be honest I’ve started writing a few posts, and never felt like they were things that should actually be finished. That’s the problem with writing. Sometimes something starts as a seed with so many wonderful possibilities, but as it grows it becomes something that the writer didn’t envision, or it doesn’t quite match the image in the writer’s mind. So much of this blog has been me passionately sharing my adventures and ideas about experiencing these adventures. Sometimes I find it hard to match my experiential definition of adventure with that of which I am currently living. Don’t get me wrong, this is an adventure.

I have spent much of the last six months immersed in what I would call domesticity. This is not a bad thing, or a bad word, or a disappointing thing. It simply is, and although I love my job for the time being, and my home, and being closer to family and friends, this is a very big change for me, as I assume you all thought it might be. Part of the reason I wanted to do this, get a “career” like job, or a “grown-up” job as I like to call it, was to see if this was an avenue I wanted to pursue in my life, for the long-term. I haven’t come to any conclusion yet, however, I do believe I’ve been able to narrow down the general skills I’d like to pursue having for a career, or series of employment experiences that I may choose to have throughout my life. Sounds somewhat ambiguous huh?



  Well, I spent this last weekend down at my dad’s property, and for the first time in a long time, I felt much more like myself than I remembered feeling for a while. I woke up eager to do some manual labor, nail stays on the fence that I was a part of building seemingly forever ago. Throughout the last three years, I’ve commonly had to drag myself out of bed to face this kind of task, but it finally felt normal again, and for that I am immensely grateful. Although I wouldn’t say I’ve experienced much of the things people say returned Peace Corps Volunteers experience when they return to this world (freaking out in grocery stores, snapping at loved ones because they don’t want to hear about your experience, frustrated at the consumerism of this country, annoyed at the pettiness of American’s problems – admittedly I’ve found that last one to be quite comical rather than frustrating). I feel as if I adjusted pretty well, picking up where I left off is what it seemed like.

 

  Yet also over the last six months, I’ve spent a good deal of time feeling pretty crappy about myself and things that I was doing. Case in point: the holidays were exhausting and drug on forever. I can say that I contributed to other people’s unhappiness during that time. And these are people I care about and hold very dear, but I said or did some things that aren’t like me at all, and were not thought through, and were ultimately very hurtful. I don’t need to rehash all of these things again, but I would like to apologize again for these things, because hurting people I love is never my intention nor is it something I want to be a part of who I am. So, I’ve been trying to get back to being a person that I like that I feel is a positive person for people to have in their lives, and although I ultimately feel that way about myself, I do know that I have some work to do.

The holidays were filled with family. My mom came down from Alaska, and my brother, K, and Gracie all came and spent five days with me. I loved having them and being back around family, although it did feel weird after Christmases in Africa. I got to see my cousin Jax and all of the extended Foster clan, which I always enjoy, and I got to see my dad in and out throughout the holiday season. New years was actually really good this year. It wasn’t the beach in Zanzibar, but it was filled with friends and family, and some really good food courtesy of my dad. As many of you know New Years is just simply my least favorite holiday and will probably always be so. I was pretty apprehensive this year to be spending it in Bend, with many of my girlfriends who I actually spent New Years so many years ago with. There were some wounds threatening to surface, but all in all it was a wonderful night. We were walking down the empty streets of downtown when the countdown happened, and it just felt like a good way to celebrate. No countdown, no wasted shenanigans, no big show, just a group of amazing ladies to hug in the middle of the streets at midnight. It was a great night, yet I still hate new years.

  So, anyways, I’ve thought a lot about content for this posting. I could talk about Zambia, which was amazing. I was kind of in a crabby mood for parts of it, because I was about to come home for the first time in two and a half years, but my friend Kate was a wonderful trooper. We traveled down to the Victoria Falls, which is amazing…. Absolutely beautiful! We did a walking safari where we got within 30 yards of a mother rhino and her baby, and we did a lovely booze cruise on the Zambezi river at sunset where I finally got to see my hippos! They’re so cool! Zambia was wonderful, and someday I might flashback and share more about it with you…

I got back to the states on June 30^th. My best friend Katie picked me up from the airport, and it felt like we picked up exactly where we’d left off. I was hosted by Ry and K on the fourth of July, but didn’t make it to the fireworks. The jet lag had full blown caught up with me at that point. Then there was a family rafting trip on my all time favorite river. Several years ago, I mean A LOT of years ago; I wrote a piece at a place called Fishtrap, a writer’s workshop in northeastern Oregon. This piece is entitled “I’m Home” and it is entirely about the Grand Ronde river and what it’s like to have a set of oars in my hands and floating down this river that has felt more like a home to me than many of the places I’ve lived in. Moving around my fair share as a youngster, I had my battle with trying to find my place, that sense of belonging that is seemingly supposed to accompany the nuclear family style dream of a home. It dawned on me one day, that my home was not where my house was, but rather it is there in the Grand Ronde valley.

I’ve come to discover as I’ve gotten older, up into my wise years of early adulthood, that I actually belong in many different places. I have many homes. There are many places that spark this feeling in my heart that I equate to feeling at home. A family friend once used the phrase, “citizen of the world” while talking to me, and this phrase has stuck with me consistently over time, and although I can’t speak to their definition, I’ve come to love defining that phrase for myself and experiencing the adventure that comes with my own personal definition of this. That being said, one of my homes, and probably my oldest home, will always be the Grand Ronde river, so what a place for me to return to when I am fresh off the plane, and really have the opportunity to be at home. It was Gracie and Kaleigh’s first rafting trips and I also took my friend Katie. I can’t honestly do justice with words explaining how great it felt to be there in my raft, oars in hand, reading my favorite river.

I spent a great deal of time immersed in the stress of job hunting, qualifying my skill set, my ideals, and my passions and figuring out if there was even a possibility of merging them into this shape that made sense to me and was actually possible. The first job to call me back is the job I now have, and I’m very happy doing this, direct service, working with teenagers, and helping people make better decisions for themselves. I’m very happy with it, for now. Unfortunately this tension and interviewing and job hunting, overshadowed a few pieces of my trip to Alaska, but it was still a wonderful trip just the same. I met my mom in Anchorage in the “slug mobile” as she calls her gynormous diesel pick-up truck and slide in camper. We road tripped around Alaska, went to Denali, and Wrangell-St. Elias and hung out in her spacious traveling home.

I never actually saw Denali, but in my mind I got to see something better. Don’t get me wrong, I love mountains, but I think and I hope that someday I will get to see Denali the mountain. We were on the bus back to our camp ground and we stopped to see a beautiful bear on the hillside across from us. My mom said she thought she saw something white further up and I saw this beautiful wolf slide into the brush. No one but my mom and I saw it, and I was feeling like one of those tourists cry wolf when looking at a coyote or something. The bear started walking up the hillside towards the brush, and he too disappeared into it. Shortly thereafter the wolf came running out with a caribou leg, and the bear was following close behind. The wolf dropped the leg and the bear plopped down on top of it, reclaiming his territory. It was so amazing to see them interacting with each other, and to see a wolf! How cool!

Years and years ago my brother and I learned what our totem animals were, me being the wolf and him being the bear. I think both of us have always been drawn to our individual animal representations over the years as well. That being said, I thought there was something familiar in the way the bear, we’ll call him Ryan, was chasing the wolf and stealing back the meat, then plopping down on top of it to keep the wolf from getting it. That’s not to say the bear (or Ryan) is selfish whatsoever, but it did seem like something we’d do to each other simply to remind the other that we’re not done playing our good-humored sibling rivalry game. It was an incredible sight and my mind was blown. Seeing a wolf…

            Oh and I got to see a lot of glaciers in Alaska, and I love glaciers. They’re so cool. Ok I’m beginning to get a little nerdy on here, but glaciers are amazing, living things. I know that sounds weird for those that have never been up close to a glacier but they breathe and move, and change and are just amazing. So I got to spend a lot of time with glaciers, and even hiked across one in Wrangell-St. Elias, with my mom. Glaciers are so cool! Anyways, I started work shortly after I returned from Alaska, and have been on this adventure ever since.

            I continue to learn about myself, constantly and incessantly, although this is what I hope for in my life. I want to constantly be growing and becoming a better version of who I am. I need this piece to fill some of the holes that I had and I’m glad that I have the opportunity to have this experience in a long line of experiences that I have had and will have. I’m not sure how to conclude an inadequate summary of the last six months of my life. It has been wonderful and it has been a struggle, and it has been filled with laughter and happiness. I assume that is much how most of my life will go, and I am absolutely ok with that, and feel immensely lucky because of that. And each of you are a part of that, so I cannot thank you enough. You’ve helped make my life something that I am very happy with… I only hope in some way I am doing the same for you…

And now….. pictures….

1. The Victoria Falls. 2. The bridge on the Zambian side and the mist from the falls. 3. Kate and I hiking down to the Zambezi river below the falls. 4. The falls yet again 5. The rhino mother and her baby. 6. Hippos swimming in the Zambezi above the falls 7. Sunset on the booze cruise. 8. My dad and Gracie sitting by the Grand Ronde, reminiscent of my childhood doing the same thing with my dad. 9. My raft (previously my mother’s raft) tied up at Malibu 10. My niece beating me up on the river! 11. Katie at the oars 12. Katie and I hanging out at Malibu 13.The Grand Ronde 14.The Wallowas in NE Oregon 15.-18. Denali National Park 19. Driving down to Valdez 20.-21. Glaciers are SO COOL! 22. Kennecott Mine in Wrangell-St. Elias National park, the biggest national park in the United States 23.-24. Wrangell-St. Elias National Park 25. Katie, Carina, Myself and Megan toasting to and celebrating Lindsey 26. Christmastime! 27. Mom, Gracie and I out on the beach 28.New Years: Gracie, Meagan, Me, Kelsey, Katie, Annette and Emily 29.-30. Megan and Katie and I celebrating Katie’s bon voyage to Ireland 31.-35. The property 36. Driving back through NE Oregon…

Enough pictures for you folks?

Murabeho Rwanda, tugiye n'amahoro.... Goodbye Rwanda, we are going with peace...

So, that’s it. I just had my final meeting with PC staff and as of midnight tomorrow night, I will officially be an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). I don’t really know how I got to this point… The last two years were full of ups and downs and crazy turns, and a few upside downs as well. Somehow through all of that I have emerged where I am now and as who I am now, although I still don’t really grasp what all of that means and what it all looks like. If all goes according to plan, I am on a bus, heading out of Rwanda at 4 am tomorrow, on to Zambia, and then back in the United States in 10 days.

My last few weeks have been amazing, full of more love and positivity than I ever thought I would receive in this experience. It is often said that Peace Corps and volunteer service go without much outward appreciation or validation, and this has definitely been true about much of my service. But these last few weeks were the complete opposite. With only one week left in my village, I jointly threw a good-bye party with my health center. Due to the abundance of free time I have had since my computer charger died, I was able to write every single health center employee a thank you letter accompanied by a picture of us together. In true Rwandan fashion, we got off to a late start, only acquiring the two cases of Fanta 15 minutes before the intended start time, although we actually didn’t start for another hour.

 Off to an awkward start, the main event (for me) of the party was when each of my co-workers stood up and in turn told me what they liked about me, what they’ll miss about me, and what they’ll remember about me. I was somewhat surprised to hear what they had to say about their two years spent with me, things that I definitely want to be remembered for. Almost everyone commented on how happy I am, how friendly. Their observations however also extended to how I greet every single person, how punctual I am (which I’ve really tried to become more lax in), my interest in all people, rich and poor, and how much I apparently love to work. To be honest, they give me way too much credit, and I’m really happy that people aren’t mind readers. I am so surprised though by the things they are holding on to when I thought so many people were relatively indifferent to my existence or at least the person I hoped I was emanating.

 

I also had many “goodbye” events in my community. One day I went up to the environmental college and said goodbye to all of the amazing people there. The nuns had me over for dinner where they treated me to wine, an entire cooked rabbit, and a bowl of fresh strawberries picked from their garden. I visited my favorite shopkeepers and community members, made banana bread for several people, and even had omelets with my great friend Justin for my “last supper” of sorts. I received a lot of gifts - jewelry, a basket, a statue of an old man drinking banana beer, a woven purse, and a map of Rwanda… Currently my absurdly overstuffed bags are sitting here next to me, and I’m trying not to think about the journey ahead in which I must lug them, across three different countries, through three different airports on the way home, and then back to Central Oregon… fingers crossed!

I’ve said so many goodbyes in the last month or so, I’ve lost track entirely, and I must admit I’m pretty darn tired, although each one was filled with great wishes, positive reminisces, and sad heartfelt “we’ll miss yous.” Many times people would come to me and ask when I was leaving, only to see me the next week or so and tell me they thought I had already gone… so goodbyes were said over and over to the same people, and although relatively tedious, they were also heartwarming and enlightening.

After the community goodbyes, I went back to where it all started, Kamonyi, to say goodbye to my host family. All of the kids came home for the weekend, and with my host family’s new trainee from the new health group, we numbered 12 in the house. It was a bit hectic at times but so much fun. It was great to be together with everyone again. I stayed up until 11 pm one night talking to my oldest host brother about everything from our definitions of faith, as well as politics and the values in humanity that we think most important. I cooked with my host sisters, danced with them and walked with them. We visited community members who have called out my name happily in greeting every time I’ve gone back over the last two years. I said goodbye and hugged each one of the kids before school, then spent the rest of the morning sorting beans and grinding cassava with the two oldest.

They walked me down the short road to the Peace Corps office to say goodbye, hugging me, all of us trying not to cry. The whole thing is completely and utterly bittersweet. I am so happy that I can look back on my time here with love and happiness, although it wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t always what I wanted it to be. But, I look back now on my adventure, my Peace Corps experience, and I must admit that I am so happy with where it took me and what I experienced. I will miss all my friends I have made, the community I have become a part of, the beauty of Rwanda. There are things I won’t miss, but so it goes. Although this blog is still just beginning, as my life is still really just beginning, it will continue once I am back, and I will continue to share how each experience is continuing to change and influence me. Although this is one of my shortest blog posts, it is one that is written in a place of peace, hope and such happiness, amidst a very expansive tiredness.

Tomorrow I am off, and soon back to the states, and soon maybe I will be able to rest again, then the puzzle pieces will begin to maybe make sense, or at least will present themselves to me so I can begin trying to piece them into the person I am becoming and hope to be. What an experience… what an adventure… what a world! Thank you all again for so much support, immense support, that you gave me over the last two years. I’m so lucky, and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to finish being a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Pictures: 1.Last glimpse of Nyungwe National Park from my front door. 2.Thanking my co-worker for his kind words about me. 3.The health center staff at my going away party. 4.Nick (my site-mate and I) at my going away party. 5.Saying goodbye to the nuns at my goodbye dinner. 6.Justin and me on my last day in Kitabi. 7.Me and my host fam - Back row: Nafta, Fragile, Ephrem, Immaculee, Chantal, Me, Aline, Middle Row: Byishimo and Saj, Front Row: Pastor Bonnke and Mama Dorcas. 8.Saj and me. 9.Nafta and I sorting beans. 10.Easperance (PC training staff member) and myself.

Guma Guma... Superstars!

            I can’t help but be fully immersed in the countdown of my time left in Rwanda these days. Especially without a computer, and at least for a day or two each week without power, I find myself with less and less to do, and more times to either drive myself crazy, read (although I only have a couple books left), eat (which I do a lot of), or simply sit and think about how drastically my life is changing but how slowly it seems to be doing so. Granted, one month is really not that long of time, but it seems somewhat like it’s dragging through the stasis of my life these days. I can see the horizon of emotions, the sadness to go, the excitement to leave, the anticipation of travel and being back home, yet right now, it’s just static. So I am trying to fill my time with the little things, like I did in the beginning, the small goals… today I am going to buy food, today I am going to do laundry, today I am going to visit this person, rather than ticking of the list of tasks I’ve kept myself busy with for the last two years. 

            It does seem to be giving me time to be a little more spontaneous however, most notably last Saturday going to Guma Guma Superstar 3 in Nyamagabe. This is kind of like the Rwandan version of American Idol. Down to ten singers/groups, they are touring the country and performing for free on a temporary stage made out of an RV or something. The people can come, watch and then text their votes in to the organization. It all started Friday evening. Another PCV and I were saying what we thought was our final farewell to Nyamagabe and toasting to our last two years, when a group of people comes in with a bunch of Primus (the PBR of Rwanda, and the main sponsor of Guma Guma) shwag and an “awesome” cutout where you could stick your face in the hole and become one of the stars. I won a Guma Guma hat and we took our pictures in the hole, and discovered that Guma Guma was coming to Nyamagabe the next day! With a little prodding from my friend, she convinced me and a couple others to go the next day to Guma Guma.

            Saturday began with my site mate, Nick, coming and making me pretty amazing belated birthday cinnamon rolls, after which we headed to Nyamagabe to meet the others and begin the Guma Guma adventure. I think in previous blog postings I’ve talked about the sometimes mortifying, sometimes obnoxious, and sometimes awesome benefits of being a foreigner in Rwanda. One of these is that you are often offered the nicer seats, which are usually more comfortable, shielded from the sun, and at the very front of whatever is happening. I admittedly have taken advantage of this at different times, for example receiving seats under tarps to protect me from the rain or sun, or getting a nicer seat on a bus to avoid being squished between creepy or somewhat drunk men. There are times when I have actively refused this, like at church when they’d like me to sit in front of the entire congregation as an “honored” guest, or to take one of the five nice chairs at the front of Genocide Commemoration ceremonies. 

            I didn’t come to Rwanda for two years to be set apart, to be seen as different, and “honored” or separated because of those differences. I came to integrate, become a member of a community, and work with the local population as an equal, as best I could. I tried as often as possible to deny this advantage. So, we arrived at Guma Guma and were instantly taken to the VIP lounge. Sitting with lots of other community “bigwigs,” the chiefs of police and armed forces for the district, amongst others, we were placed front and center, right by the stage, right by the speakers. Instantly we were handed free Primus, and we got free Guma Guma hats and Primus wristbands, and a completely unobstructed view of the stage. It was pretty darn nice, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty about all the Rwandans dancing behind the barrier who would probably value the experience so much more than we did. How many people who knew me were standing in the crowd watching us? The answer is too many, as I found out when I ran in to several of them later in the day. They laughed at my attempts to dance.

            The VIP lounge was pretty darn nice. We were never without a dry glass, but I also felt like “one of those” expats. I do think there is a place for each type of aid agency and aid worker, but I must admit that I tend to appreciate the Peace Corps model a bit more than the others, maybe simply because I’m headlong into it these days. There’s something to be said for the way we live, in my case in a house comprable to my coworkers, making about the same money each month as some of my coworkers and less then some others, taking public transportation (no agency labeled range rover driving me around). We work to become a part of the community and learn the language, and attempt the mythological feat of grassroots development, a task particularly difficult in Rwanda which utilizes the top-down approach seemingly exclusively.

            So, ingrained in me has become the desire and the drive to try to be “one of the community” to be seen as an equal (this was probably a part of me before admittedly), yet here I am instantly getting taken to the VIP section without a single word of protest on my part, and enjoying myself (in spite of the ringing in my ears for the next two days). I watched the teenagers constantly being pushed away from the barrier as they danced too close, some of them drinking Primus without a care in the world that the cops in front of them would enforce some semblance of a drinking age law. I was mortified when one of the artists came off the stage and tried to drag me and another volunteer up there to dance, and relieved when it was vehemently shot down by a stage hand who yelled, “No white people!” at us. So we (and I thankfully) danced just in the grass by the VIP lounge, but still drew enough attention to have our pictures taken and posted on the organizations Facebook page. 

            For almost three hours we watched the musicians and the crowds, we sang along to the songs we knew, and gawked at some of the provocative dancing we were watching. One teenage boy was brought on stage and continued to grope and fondle the hostess of the event for a good five-ish minutes. I couldn’t help thinking that if that were me that boy would probably have been slapped up-side the head right quick! I kind of feel like an old conservative lady now, writing that (no offense to old conservative ladies).  Towards the end of the performance when the bad brews and loud music finally started to wear on me, the music seemed to turn into a repetitive mantra of “hejeru, hejeru” or telling the crowd to put their hands up… what had happened to the music? And we were all disappointed that the one female artist, Knowless, did not make an appearance.

            After the show we headed back into downtown and said our (what I think will be) final farewells to Nyamagabe and the Golden Monkey Restaurant. It was a fun way to finish that part of

 my experience. As for work these days, my counterpart (the health center employee who partnered with me on my animal husbandry project) Flandrie and I, agreed to go to one of the five cells in my sector each week for my remaining five weeks and visit the community health workers (CHWs) who have animals there. Two weeks down and three to go. It has gone well so far, there are some participants who have baby chickens right now, and others who complained that someone stole all of their animals. So a mixed bag I guess. 

It’s really hard to convey the magnitude of the number of hills in Rwanda unless you see it. Known as the land of a thousand hills, I think Rwanda is really closer to a million hills. I guess it all depends on how you define hill. In my part of this country however, the hills are tall and steep, descending into narrow valleys and starting right back up again. As I walked with my counterpart this week, I asked her why all the Rwandans live on the tops of the hills, and all on different hills. She took this question at face-value and launched into an explanation about the rainy season, as we trudged up yet another steep hill to the next CHWs house. I guess I should have spent some time explaining rhetorical questions in my two years here, as that is one of my major forms of communication. So I listened to her breathless explanation wishing that the hill would end, and eventually it did. 

We hiked about 13 miles that day visiting people, and I was greeted by name repetitively by different community members and children. My counterpart turned to me towards the end of the trip and said “So many people know you, and nobody knows me.” I explained that I’ve actively chosen to walk to all the rural villages the last two years rather than be seen as just another foreigner passing through on a moto. It felt pretty awesome though to see and feel the effects of this decision after two years, to see something so tangible as being more known in rural villages than my Rwandan counterpart. At one point a group of kids passed us and one of them yelled out “umuzungu” or “white person,” to which another kid calmly turned and said, “she is not umuzungu, she is the one who makes the children laugh.” That was pretty awesome too, even if the kids were calling me a clown. I think I would rather have spent the last two years being called a clown than white person.

So rarely in this experience do we get to see the tangible benefits of what we have done, and this simple walk through my community really showed me what I’ve done and who I am to these people. Although it might sound relatively conceded, it makes me feel pretty good that I am already remembered for being more friendly and present than my co-workers, and also for my sense of humor. As this countdown becomes ever smaller, I have been struggling with my common frustrations, being stared at, being treated differently for my skin color, being identified by my skin color. I call my friend here daily and sigh into the phone venting about some idiot staring at me for an entire bus ride, or some woman trying to increase the price of her peas because of my skin color. It’s tiring, and I must admit I’m happy the end is very much in sight. 

I’m going to miss this place, the people, the culture, so much. It has been my home for the last two years and I have become a part of a place, one that I never thought was an option or a possibility. It has changed me in good ways and bad, and it has created in me the visible opportunity to become the better person that I want to be. I look forward to seeing how this place, experience and these people have changed me, and who I will continue to become because of this experience. It is immensely rewarding to see the subtle impacts I’ve made and the feelings my Rwandan community has about me. I guess we all need a little ego stroking every now and then! So in spite of all the amazing things and the truly obnoxious or crappy things, I think it is officially and mentally time for me to move on to whatever comes next in my life, to leave Rwanda, at least for now.

Pictures: 1. Rita, Christine and me celebrating my birthday and one final farewell to Butare. 2. CHW Marcelline in front of the chicken house she built for the animal husbandry project. 3. Nick, Griff and Christine posing as Guma Guma Supertars. 4. The stage at Guma Guma. 5. Christine and I with the Guma Guma sign. 6. The sign for my work and the main road passing by it that goes all the way to the DRC. 7. Looking back on my village, just under the big hill. 8. One of the baby chickens. 9. Flandrie and me after marching up one of the many hills.