I realize that I’ve been very bad about updating this blog.
Which, in my defense, I knew I would be before I even started. As I pass the
10-month mark of my service I’ve finally become comfortable with work and life
in the village. Of course, in terms of blogging this means I feel like I never
have anything interesting to write about, and sometimes it takes talking to
someone outside of Rwanda to remind myself that yes…my life is still weird.
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| The local watering hole. |
I had finally made a new friend at work. He was about my age
and spoke a little bit of English and we hit it off well. He would come to
visit before we started work in the various services and we would chitchat
about various things going on in the Health Center. One day my roommate had to
leave for an all day meeting at the District Office, so I decided to invite my
new friend over for lunch. I was debating what to make, boiled bananas or rice
and beans? I went up to ask him, and we were having a nice conversation, when
all of a sudden the police showed up, cuffed him, dragged him out of the Health
Center, and threw him in the back of the cop car. Apparently he had fake
credentials as a nurse and is now in prison. Even more alarming is that this is
a nation wide problem (estimates say 10% are working with fake credentials!!)
and the government chose that day for their purge. I still never found out if
he was coming to dinner.
* * *
In an attempt to get away from the Health Center every so
often, I have begun an English club at the local High School. The first activity
we’ve been doing is a weekly debate, and it’s been going very well! The
students decide on a debate topic early in the week and then various classes
are assigned to argue the opposing sides. Throughout the week I stop in to make
sure everything is going well, and then Friday evening is the big event! I say
that because it actually is the big
event in the village with various local celebrities attending, including the
Health Center muzungu. Because
I’m a celebrity. The most exciting thing about the debates is the crazy topics
they pick (Marriage: all about love or money? For example) and some of the crazy answers that come up. I’m
trying to encourage the teachers to participate in a little bit of the Socratic
Method, so that students are forced to defend the things they are arguing, but
that’s still a ways to go. With exams coming up the club is going to be on hold
for a few weeks, but when we return in April, I’m hoping to add a drama
component and maybe even put on a play!
* * *
Recently, my High School literature teacher spent a month in
Nairobi, but made the trip over to Rwanda to see the mountain gorillas. We
agreed to meet up during her trip, and I made the trek into Kigali to see her
and her travel companions. We ended up taking a crazy bus ride (record time,
but way too scary to handle) back to my village, where I showed them around the
Health Center, school, and community. They stayed in a hostel in my market town
and I think overall they had a great experience. I enjoyed having a little bit of
Wisconsin come to my community, and having them buy me dinner and drinks didn’t
hurt either! Also, when you’re High School literature teacher ask what she can
bring you to make your experience in Rwanda better, I gave the only answer that
makes sense: red wine.
Of course, the week after they left I fell ill. Recently, I
had been bragging about my seemingly super immune system. Almost a year in and
I haven’t been sick even once! Obviously, everything that was avoiding me
decided to hit me all at once. I had a nasty head cold with a fever which
turned into the worst diarrhea of my life followed a nasty juicy cough that has
all the villagers convinced I’m a TB patient. Literally, I’ve heard the word tuberculosis whispered as I walk past. I think I’m better now.
I’ve taken about every drug concoction my little med kit allows but I still
can’t hear out of either ear.
* * *
In every other aspect, life is normalizing. I have my
favorite shops, my favorite people at work, the paths I walk to decompress, and
my favorite TV shows. In many ways, it’s like life back home, except in four
different languages. And with hills.
But as comfortable as life is becoming, there are still the
moments that jar you and make you remember you’re not in Kansas anymore. The other day I was sitting in my room when the
power went out, which is becoming the norm around 8PM. It was quiet except for
the sounds of the crickets outside, when I could hear a screaming. It started
softly, and I estimated it to be coming from the Health Center, but then I
could hear running and scuffling, and soon the screaming was coming from the
road right outside my window. I couldn’t understand every word he was saying,
but some things ring very clear: he was screaming that the genocide
is starting again.
At the moment I was alone and scared. I’m never sure how
serious to take these things. When my roommate finally returned home I was
relieved to see him and ask him what was going on. It turns out someone entered
the man’s home with a machete and took a chunk out of his head. He ran to the
Health Center but soon became delirious and wouldn’t allow any Hutu to touch
him. According to my roommate, he ran off down the road still bleeding heavily.
The moment scared me for a number of reasons, but the biggest one was the
realization that no matter how ‘integrated’ I think I am, I’ll still always be
in the dark.
I try not to think about things like that too much, and
instead focus on the blessings I have here in Peace Corps. I have a great
family of PCVs here. We look out for each other and support each other through
the tough times. I also live in a country that is jaw droppingly beautiful. Whenever I’m feeling down, a quick walk amongst the
Thousand Hills provides me with
clarity of mind. Being a volunteer is balancing act in more ways than one, and
so far I’ve managed to avoid tipping too far to one end.
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| Rusumo Falls |
