A funny thing happened on the way home from work:

At least I'm pretty sure it was a funny thing. I wasn't told the joke, but apparently I was a riot walking home from work today. The road to and from my health center cuts in between two schools, though I don't understand how so many children come from just two schools. I got out of work just as school was letting up. I saw the small bodies swarming around and I gave up on my idea of a semi-peaceful walk home. The advice I got during my training in Nyzanza, the best way to integrate is to say hello to everyone, especially the children. So, I start saying hello to passing children. Pretty soon, hello isn't enough and the kids want to shake my hand. I feel like some celebrity, having to touch each child's hand before moving on. At this point, I've given up asking names since I wouldn't be able to tell one from the other. By now a mob has formed around me as I make my way down the hill. Amazingly, there is little pushing and shoving as the whole group moves seamlessly along. Every now and then an older child will come up and vie for a spot near me. They are already laughing so I figure I might as well make it worth their while and start with the "mother may I" giant steps, stopping abruptly to see if I can trick any of them. A couple get close to colliding, but they are all much to quick to actually bump me. My little antics have caused the laughing fits to descend into full-blown hysterics. Like I said, I wasn't told the joke, but I must have been funny. Who knew it was so easy to entertain kids. My mob followed me all the way back into town and a few of the braver ones even tried following me to a store to buy water. Unfortunately I lost my fan base when it was clear I was back to doing those ordinary things like buying stuff. Overall, the walk home couldn't have been better. Make friends with the local kids; check.

Rubengera, here I am!

Coming up on my second week in Rubengera, I am still working on calling this place my home. If you head due west from Kigali until just before you hit Lake Kivu, you will run smack through the bustling little big city of Rubengera. My best, but woeful attempt at estimating the population here would put it around 50,000; give or take some 10,000. (Estimating size is clearly not my strong suit). It is about the size of Nyanza, which doesn't help anyone who hasn't been here. My house, (the one with the blue gate!) is located at the edge of the town proper. Basically you walk past the market, a few more stores, restaurants and such, and it's the only noticeable house before you hit the next cross road.

In brief, my house consists of a bedroom, tiny sitting room, bathroom big enough for a toilet bowl and meter square shower, and a "kitchen prep room," which is a sink. (If anyone has heard of the book, Left to Tell, the area where the women stayed is where I now live.) The rest of the house is closed off to me, which is fine. There is garden of gargantuan proportions, a cabana, guard house, and a whole brood of random animals. The caretaker / guard / gardener / animal keeper / neighbor who runs the property is a boy by the name of Everest who speaks little to no English or French, but is always willing to help. Supposedly it is Everest who takes care of the 3 dogs, 2 goats, random chickens, ducks, and one cow. I keep expecting rabbits and pigs to jump out of the woodwork. It's small, but I can already imagine my next two years in my cozy new house.

Work is a 15 minute walk up the hill to the health center, passing a primary and secondary school where they love to remind me that I am white. The health center is really a fledgling hospital, boasting a maternity center, PMTCT - prevention of maternal to child transmission which doubles as a prenatal clinic, nutrition center, Family planning center, voluntary counseling and testing for HIV/AIDS, ARV disbursement, pharmacy, 'surgical' rooms, pharmacy, laboratory, and other random bits and pieces. Technically I work for the Rwandan Presbyterian Church whose projects are directed and funded by USAID / CHF. My office sits in the forgotten annex behind the PMTCT building.

Walking through town is an adventure unto itself. It takes courage to steel yourself for the market and other shops that carry the daily necessities of Rwandan life. Integration, integration, integration has been the Peace Corps' motto for us. It's an interesting concept to attempt to fit in when simply walking through town turns heads. You just have to get used to the curious, unashamed but blatant stares. My coping mechanism; saying hello in Kinyarwanda and watching their face light up with laughter and disbelief, followed immediately by 20 more questions in Kinyarwanda in an attempt to discern if I really know the language. I don't. Usually my bravado shrivels up to a stupid grin as I continue on my way through town. Despite my uncertainties, I can always count on being cheered by the very Rwandan nature of Rubengera. Cows wandering through backyards, the smiling Mamas with infants on their backs, motos roaring through town with the matching green helmets, and the endless vistas of mountain after gorgeous mountain.

Kinyarwanda essentials

Ihangane - Be patient

Buhoro buhoro - Slowly

Konje - Cold

Mutzig - Mutzig (Rwandan Heineken)

Guma Guma - Primus (2nd choice beer)

Simbizi - I don't know

Nta kibazo - No problem

Komera - Be strong

Abasazi - Crazies

Mwebwe mbese! - Ah, I see

Sawa - Okay

Umva - Listen

Mazungu - Foreigner / white person

Nkunda Rwanda - I love Rwanda

Life as a PCV

Life as a PCV

After leaving Nyanza, we traveled to Kigali to stay for a week before being shipped out to our own sites. Unfortunately we didn't get the hotel with wireless internet and a pool, but staying in St. Paul's ended up being pretty fantastic either way. It's right in the heart of down-town Kigali and it's small enough that everyone can know what others are doing. Plus, there were a bunch of amazing restaurants around. I don't think I've ever eaten out so much and with that variety. Everything from Italian and American, to Indian and Moroccan. It's easy to see how you could blow a lot of money in a very short amount of time.

We were officially sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers on Wed., May 5, 2010. We were graciously joined by the Country Director, and the US Ambassador. The ceremony was held at the amazing estate of Mr. Ambassador. Needless to say we were all impressed. We even had guards check under our buses for bombs. (Kind of reminded me of driving into the school in Amman.) Most of the ceremony consisted of various speeches. Six volunteers spoke, two in English, two in French, and then two in Kinyarwanda. The national film crew that was present happened to only catch that speech; understandable. There was also a speech by a Rwandan doctor, our country director, and the ambassador. We were informed that we are all connected by a web of light, which happens to be fiber-optics. We were also instructed to ask what Rwanda could do for us, and hopefully at the end of our service we have done more for Rwanda than it has done for us. Something of that sort. Eventually, we all stood and repeated after our Country Director that we swore to protect and defend the US Constitution against all enemies, and so forth. Apparently this was the same oath that is taken by the National Guard, Army, Marines, etc. It was pretty official. Then the best part; the food. There were all sorts of delicacies, including real cake! It was wonderful! Too bad Peace Corps felt the need to whisk us away before too long.

Thus far the life of a PCV is hardly different than that of a trainee. I still feel like such a newbie, which I'm sure I will be until the next group shows up. Amazingly though, we do get some more freedom, such as riding the bus by ourselves, staying out past 9:00, and deciding where and when we wanted to eat. We are grown-ups ... again!

Last weeks in Nyanza

The last few weeks of training proved to be fairly uneventful. We had random projects to do, a whole lot of language, a few more useless tech sessions, and even some useful classes, of course taught be other volunteers. It seems a little sad that the best training we got was when they were taught by other volunteers. Oh well. It's over now so there isn't much I can do about it. The last couple of weeks were a little stressful trying to prepare for our Language Proficiency Interview which technically determined if we would be able to swear in. Basically it's an oral test with two of our teachers asking about scenarios in Kinyarwanda and us sitting there trying to desperately remember random vocabulary and trying to keep tenses straight. We had to score a high intermediate on the test in order to qualify to be a volunteer. Thankfully everyone passed even though there were a lot of questions about the validity of the scoring and the arbitrary nature of how they placed us. It was all a little ridiculous and caused a lot of people frustrations.

Nyanza was finally starting to feel like another home. It was such a comfortable place, it was really difficult to leave. Especially saying goodbye to Elijah, Mama Odeli, and Parisa. Even though I never really had any conversations with the people that helped run things around our houses, there were still great to see everyday, always welcoming and smiling. It's strange to see how people touched our lives for such a short time but had a huge impact. They are some of the few that make excited to start my actual work here. They showed us love even though we could barely say two sentences in their language.

One fantastic thing about all of us being in Nyanza for 2 and a half months, we finally were no longer mazungus. We were just those white people that always walked through town. It's amazing how quickly you forget what being mazungu here is. The constant pleas for money, being the side show whenever you happen to be walking through town, and the laughs you get when you stumble with Kinyarwanda. You get so used to ignoring the random shouts that you forget that that makes you come across as cold-hearted, ignorant, selfish foreigner.