I hear it blowing

No matter how many times I come back to it, it's always the rain. The rain that comes, stealthily, abruptly, quickly, eventually. When all else fails and I feel like I can't breathe in this place, this new life, I find the rain. From the first few drops, barely enough to penetrate the soil, to an out-right downpour which washes clean all the dirt and grime. People sometimes get shortsighted by the stresses in life, they forget to see the simple, the nature made. It's a complete orchestra. There are the slow steady pings of the drops on the tin roof turning into a steady hum as the pour increases, and then again the louder splat as they roll their way towards the ground. The wavering rush of the wind through the trees, taking the droplets off their course for a moment. A bright burst of bird-song exclaiming into the storm. The accumulated thrum of rain falling through the air. A distant growling of thunder rolling through the steel gray clouds. If you don't listen it's easy to miss. To stare blankly into the wall of water, thinking only of plans ruined and hinderances caused. But step outside, if only for a moment. Not only do you sense with your ears and eyes, but you can smell the sharp clean scent of wetness and greenery, mud, and cloudy days. You can feel the chilling breeze brought with the water and the faint mist as the drops break apart on the ground at your feet. Above you is a blank sky, uniform in it's dull grayscale but full of life and change. Such a quick, blazing moment of sheer joy. Of unconfined wild abandon when anything changes, if only for a moment. There is nothing about this to do and that to worry about, there is only sensing and emotion. Pure clean, uncomplicated emotion. No conditions or ultimatums, only happiness in it's most simple form. A natural gift. The rain that will make plants grow, turn skies to shimmering blue, tamp down the dust and let voices carry further on the clearer air. A living force that creates, destroys, helps, hinders. And, then too soon it has moved on, continuously rolling onward. It leaves it's renewal behind along with its shaded skies and although there is that slow creeping back to reality and awareness that regular life hasn't actually changed, it still pulls at my heart. That faint tempting song reminding me that it was here, if only for a few moments. Then, it's a return to everyday chores and tasks, waiting patiently until the rain makes its next appearance to set me free once again.

Kids imitate the darndest things

It has been well known for generations that one of the most prominent ways children learn is through imitation. A child will imitate their mother or father to learn basic skills such as language, social functioning, and behavioral norms. It seems pretty intuitive that a kid will pick up on what is around them in their environment. I do find it strange then, that children seem to exhibit so many of the same habits despite the culture they grow up in. After having been around American children, there are a number of behaviors that seem common. Playing 'guns' is a very common game among young boys. In the states this is attributed to watching too much violent T.V. How then do you explain Rwandan children playing the same game when they have no exposure to television? And in a country that probably has no knowledge of Superman or other caped crusaders, capes are both known and a great use for one of Mom's extra blankets. Even though it is probably not so much a cultural phenomenon but more a musical one, banging on pots crosses the seas and entertains the smaller ones in Rwanda as well. Walking in adult's shoes and trying on their hats will always provide entertainment regardless of their origins. Working in my garden I have realized two things; first that American kids would most likely not race to join you in pulling weeds, but secondly, kids will always be thrilled with the small jobs as long as they are included. Picking out rocks and throwing them off to the side kept one little one busy while we were digging my garden. Granted many of the rocks never hit their mark and ended up back in the upturned soil, but she persisted, following us around the entire plot. And finally, mainly because I would love to know what they are thinking, the way children are fascinated with any baby smaller than themselves, be it a month or more. Both in America and Rwanda, and I'm sure most other places, children love other babies. Maybe they don't perceive themselves to be that small and therefore don't know how something that tiny can be alive, but kids are forever trying to reach out and grab other babies. So, be in across states or across continents, kids tend to pick up much more than we give them credit for and somehow end up with surprisingly similar mannerisms.

I'm day-dreaming of a life back home

Through all my years I have known about homesickness. It came on when I would sleep over at a friend's house, when I made a major life change like moving to college, and when I left one of couple of places I see as 'home' for a long period of time. Being homesick and heartsick for Idaho or Dubai is understandable to me and I often wish I could go back and visit more frequently than I do. Being homesick for another life is something fairly new to me which I've discovered here in Rwanda. People always ask if I miss America or have pangs of homesickness. Of course, but what is difficult to explain is that this homesickness is a much most pervasive form than most see. It tends to linger under the surface and comes to light at random and unexpected times. It's always there and I am always aware of it, but more often than not it isn't a primary thought. I think of home every day, of friends and family, of things I miss, and also of things I could've had; a different life. In some ways, you are homesick for what could've been. I know that if I had stayed, I would've had certain things, a different lifestyle, different memories. It's almost like second guessing yourself. You see all the good things in your other decision. And so it is in Rwanda. I not only imagine the things I have left behind, but I see this other life that I feel like I am missing. Sometimes that is the harder thing to deal with. Friends, family, and things will always be there for when you get back, but the other 'life' feels like a missed opportunity. Everyone makes decisions that change the way their life is, but often times the other choice, the one left untaken isn't quite as clear simply because you didn't take it. I think that's why I feel it more poignantly in Rwanda. I know the exact life I left in America. I don't regret taking this course, I just didn't know this homesickness was a part of it. I expected it to be like college; you are bummed for a while thinking about what you left but then each day is lessens and your new life takes over. Maybe it is the same, just happening on a slower scale. You would think after almost 10 months living here, thoughts of America and Dubai would not be a daily constant, but they are. It's more that it is just there. They aren't intrusive thoughts, more observations or comparisons. There is always part of my mind that is stuck in America. So, for now I guess I just have to be content with living my life with my mind stuck in two places.