A day in sounds

Before the sun crests the mountain tops, the birds have begun. Their twitters and chirping carry into my open window at an ungodly hour as they announce to the world that the day is here. Despite the time, the adjusting of a radio at full volume is the next to make sure that I am wide and fully awake now. As if suddenly realizing people might still be sleeping, the radio is hushed, only to be replaced with an engine roaring to life in my driveway for no other purpose it seems but to make sure it will start again today. The car sits in idle until the working order is established and is revved one more time before that too is silenced. Yes, yes I am up now. I will get ready for the day. The hour passes quietly until I step outside and am greeted with the dogs, grumbling that they are once again, hungry. Tin dog bowls clash together with their unnatural twang to dislodge the ants before breakfast is served. Finally to work we go. The lowing cows wish the mazungu a good morning as they munch on their grasses. At work I am overcome with sound. The musical interludes of phones ringing, doors crashing shut, Kinyarwanda spoken at speeds and volumes as if trying to outdo one another, each trying to hold 5 conversations with everyone else. A step outside when it becomes too overwhelming. The birds, mellow in their trees now are pleasant and peaceful while the wind shuffles the eucalyptus leaves. A breath of calm. Next door the whistles are blown for recess followed by hundreds of children's voices raising into the air, laughing and calling after friends. The repetitious thud of the make-shift soccer ball come from the boy's side while the girls are chanting and clapping, stomping their feet and jumping in time to the rhythm. I've made it to lunch. The lid of the amandazi bucket pops open while the ijanas jangle in my wallet. Two ijanas for two amandazi please. My feet crunch on the dry and dusty road home. It's the dry season now. No rains. I let myself in the gate with a scraping clank while the continuous indistinguishable conversation of passersby is left outside. Home sweet home, where I get to dictate the noises in my house. Ed Gerhard or Andy McKee inspire my yoga practices which in turn give way to something more upbeat as I move about daily chores. Outside again with a soft snap of the lettuce leaves for my dinner. A match lit, gas hissing, and then a flame roaring softly under my pot of water who will soon begin its rumbling boil so I have clean water to drink. My fork on the plate accompanies the sounds to a movie during dinnertime. Nearly time for bed. The cicadas have replaced the birds in the endless chirping drone of nature. A truck rumbles down the road, threatening to lose a spare part, or an essential one. A stick on the rusted tire rim signals that it is 9:30 and time for me to go to sleep.

Greetings from a long forgotten time

I know, I've seriously neglected my duties in keeping up with this blog. Habit I guess. I am great at starting things. I am enthusiastic and eager, and the routine settles in and it just isn't quite as much fun as it used to be, and yes, I am talking both about the blog as well as my time here.

Don't get me wrong. I would hate to give anyone a wrong impression of this experience. I wouldn't trade it for anything. It has been so eye-opening both in my own personal development, as well as a bigger world that I've only ever seen through rose-colored glasses. Life here has just become life, it just happens to be in Rwanda. Routine and habit have become day to day companions like anyone else's life. Therefore, it is sometimes difficult to weed out the 'experience' from the general living. People ask me if I like being here. After one year, yeah I still like being here. It is frustrating more often that I thought it would be and I still feel so unaccomplished, but that doesn't make this a bad experience. Just different. Any semblance to my previous life has dwindled down to where it only resides in my suitcase where I stash my American goodies to try and ration them, much to no avail. One year in Rwanda, and then later one year at site passed without too much celebration or grandeur. I for some reason thought I might have this great epiphany or a sudden uplifting of my daily life. But, like any other day, it is just any other day apart from the fact that it marked my half-way point in my service. Thankfully I was able to reward myself for that occasion with a trip to Dubai and the Balkans which one of the greatest, most appreciated vacations I've ever spent.

I'm sure some of you have grown bored of my constant refrains for how 'normal' my Rwandan life is. My new resolution is to dig further into some of what I see in Rwanda and how I am feeling in my life and service. Granted, it might not always be positive, and I will try to present all sides of my time here. This probably should've been my opening to my blog, but I might as well start sometime. Like I said, I am great at beginning things. And, this year is like a new beginning. A year of service down, and a year counting down to all the things I have been missing and dreaming about for the past 365 days. (Thank goodness for the Mac & Cheese in my care packages!) I wanted to remind everyone out there reading that this blog only reflect my own personal views and experiences and is not affiliated with Peace Corps on any official terms. I hope you all continue reading I promise I will try to be better about writing!