So I’ve said and done some pretty dumb things here and I thought, in all fairness, I should recount my mistakes as well as my triumphs. It’s part of the cultural experience, right?
From least dumb to dumbest:
10. 1st Time I Washed my Clothes By Hand: My sister stared in horror as I weakly scrubbed random parts of my shirt and then wrung the water out inch by inch. My brother’s 24 year-old friend fell out of his chair laughing. I pretended to ignore them, not in the mood to be patronized to. My brother’s friend told me I wasn’t getting the dirt out of my clothes that way and I retorted I was doing fine by myself. He disagreed and demonstrated, according to him, the “right” way to do it. I must admit that his way was better. Considering he’s been doing this all his life and I was just in a bad mood, I quickly adopted his methods and can now wash my clothes by hand. Kind of.
9. Walking in on My Brother in the Bathroom: Third day with my family, I went to the bathroom to shower. The bathroom door is always shut. I knocked but my brother said something from across the hall, trying to warn me to not open the door. My brother in the bathroom also said something. But people here don’t speak loudly ever, even in urgent situations like these, and with noise coming from both sides of me, I didn’t understand what was being said. I opened the door to the picturesque sight of my brother, who I have only known two days, sitting on the toilet. I backed out quickly and had to force myself to make eye contact with him at breakfast. What a great first impression to make on my family.
8. “Can I Take a Picture?”: We were warned to always ask people’s permission before we take a picture of them. My Ugandan brother Dean told me he gets mad when foreigners take pictures of him without asking. Well, 3 weeks into the homestay I cooked dinner for my family and wanted to record the event. I brought out the camera and asked Dean if I could take a picture of him, to be polite, you know? He burst out laughing. He said it’s fine to take pictures of people you know, family and friends. He shook his head at my fumbling, awkward question and I felt like an idiot.
7. Nakivale Refugees: On our last day in Uganda, on our way to Rwanda, we stopped at a refugee camp. We split into two groups. One group talked with a small group of Rwandan Hutu refugees, many of whom are suspected of being genocidaires. The other group talked to a large group of Congolese refugees. I was in the Congolese group and only heard about the Hutu group. Two days after the refugee camp, we met our Rwandan families for the first time. And on that first night, I mentioned I stopped in Mbarara and visited Nakivale. Don’t ask me why I felt the need to include this information. Really, I shouldn’t have. My brother David took the bait and asked if we talked to Hutu refugees. I told him part of our group had. He asked me what the refugees said about why they would not return to Rwanda. Now I knew I was in a tight spot – his voice was full of contempt. I told him the half truth: that the refugees were afraid to return because they thought the government would arrest them and torture them to admit to something they may or may not have done. My brother’s observant and judgmental smile, suggested volumes about his opinion. “Rwanda is safe. They should return. Rwanda is safe.” I had nothing to say to that so we sat in silence for a few seconds before Mommy was kind enough to change the topic.
6. C’est bien and c'est bon: C’est bon and c’est bien are not interchangeable in French, but it’s tricky to figure out when one is used instead of the other. I knew there were multiple instances for when you used c’est bon, but I came down with amnesia and just stuck to what I remembered: c’est bon is for food. But there were other times I would accidentally switch them up. My mommy is too sweet to correct my horrible, ridiculous, amaterurish mistakes (really, I learned this in French I). So for a month and a half I would make mistakes with the two before I started to clear up the instances when one is used instead of the other.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Daily Annoyances in Rwanda
I have a small confession - I don't love EVERY moment in Africa. Here is a small sample of my daily annoyances in Rwanda that I don't find joy in:
“Ssssssttttt! Sssst. Ssssssssssssttttttttt! Mazungu! Mazungu!” [I turn. They laugh]. I walk for 30 seconds down the road before I hear, “Ssst. Ssssssttt. Sssssssssssssstttttttttt! Mazungu! Mazungu! Mazungu!” [I turn. It’s new people. These new people laugh. And watch me walk away until I’m out of sight].
Walking up hills. Then walking down. Then walking up again. And, finally, when you think you are going to pass out in the middle of the street and beg for water, you reach your destination.
I just walked up and down and up a bunch of hills, on the side of the street no less, with cars whizzing by me. I am covered in sweat, dust, and car exhaust. I really need to take a shower. [I walk to the bathroom. I turn the shower faucet on. It wheezes, and shakes, like a Little Faucet that Could. Except that it can’t. After four drops leak out of the shower head and mockingly moisten my hand, the faucet shutters to a stop. Yelling to my roommates at the top of my lungs] “We’re out of water! Again.” [Three responding groans echo through the house. The Gods laugh.]
I’m reading a really good book. I’m on the edge of my seat, almost done. I won’t let myself go to bed before I know the ending. Right as I turn to the last page, the light of the world dies and darkness reigns. I sigh, exasperatedly, and sit in complete darkness, waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. It’ll happen. You just have to be patient. So I wait. But I’m not a patient person. I scramble in the pitch black for my phone. I accidentally knock it off the table and my cheap phone shatters on the hard floor. I fall to my knees and grope in the darkness for the pieces. I find them and clumsily piece my phone back together. I push the power on, reset the time, pretend to know the date, and turn the phone’s flashlight on. As I sit back down, shining my phone’s brightness on the book’s last page, the darkness flickers once, twice, and then God shines light once again upon me. I turn off the flashlight and finish my book and go to bed.
I’m in a rush. I don’t have time for a bus (called a taxi here). I flag down a moto (a motorcycle) and tell them my location. “Karibu.” “Karibu?” “Karibu.” At the moto driver’s confused look, I question, “Tu connais?” He lifts his eyebrows, which signifies ‘Sure, why not.’ I ask, “N’agahe?” “1500.” My mental Hah! escapes my lips in a snort. “Ni menshi. Gabanya, gabanya. 500.” Now it’s the driver’s turn to snort. He looks away, looks back at me, and says “1000.” I manage to keep my laugh suppressed but shake my head with a smile. “C’est très chère. No mazungu price. 500.” He laughs but shakes his head. But I can tell I’m winning him over. “I know it is 500. Je connais.” He looks away, looks back at me, studies me a moment. “700.” “500.” “700.” I pause, frustrated, knowing the price is 500 but also remembering I’m in a hurry. With a small stamp of my foot, I resign. “600.” He nods quickly, obviously waiting for me to say that price. He hands me the helmet, I snap the loose chin straps, straddle the seat, and away we go!
“Ssssssttttt! Sssst. Ssssssssssssttttttttt! Mazungu! Mazungu!” [I turn. They laugh]. I walk for 30 seconds down the road before I hear, “Ssst. Ssssssttt. Sssssssssssssstttttttttt! Mazungu! Mazungu! Mazungu!” [I turn. It’s new people. These new people laugh. And watch me walk away until I’m out of sight].
Walking up hills. Then walking down. Then walking up again. And, finally, when you think you are going to pass out in the middle of the street and beg for water, you reach your destination.
I just walked up and down and up a bunch of hills, on the side of the street no less, with cars whizzing by me. I am covered in sweat, dust, and car exhaust. I really need to take a shower. [I walk to the bathroom. I turn the shower faucet on. It wheezes, and shakes, like a Little Faucet that Could. Except that it can’t. After four drops leak out of the shower head and mockingly moisten my hand, the faucet shutters to a stop. Yelling to my roommates at the top of my lungs] “We’re out of water! Again.” [Three responding groans echo through the house. The Gods laugh.]
I’m reading a really good book. I’m on the edge of my seat, almost done. I won’t let myself go to bed before I know the ending. Right as I turn to the last page, the light of the world dies and darkness reigns. I sigh, exasperatedly, and sit in complete darkness, waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. It’ll happen. You just have to be patient. So I wait. But I’m not a patient person. I scramble in the pitch black for my phone. I accidentally knock it off the table and my cheap phone shatters on the hard floor. I fall to my knees and grope in the darkness for the pieces. I find them and clumsily piece my phone back together. I push the power on, reset the time, pretend to know the date, and turn the phone’s flashlight on. As I sit back down, shining my phone’s brightness on the book’s last page, the darkness flickers once, twice, and then God shines light once again upon me. I turn off the flashlight and finish my book and go to bed.
I’m in a rush. I don’t have time for a bus (called a taxi here). I flag down a moto (a motorcycle) and tell them my location. “Karibu.” “Karibu?” “Karibu.” At the moto driver’s confused look, I question, “Tu connais?” He lifts his eyebrows, which signifies ‘Sure, why not.’ I ask, “N’agahe?” “1500.” My mental Hah! escapes my lips in a snort. “Ni menshi. Gabanya, gabanya. 500.” Now it’s the driver’s turn to snort. He looks away, looks back at me, and says “1000.” I manage to keep my laugh suppressed but shake my head with a smile. “C’est très chère. No mazungu price. 500.” He laughs but shakes his head. But I can tell I’m winning him over. “I know it is 500. Je connais.” He looks away, looks back at me, studies me a moment. “700.” “500.” “700.” I pause, frustrated, knowing the price is 500 but also remembering I’m in a hurry. With a small stamp of my foot, I resign. “600.” He nods quickly, obviously waiting for me to say that price. He hands me the helmet, I snap the loose chin straps, straddle the seat, and away we go!
21st Birthdays
Last night we celebrated my friend’s 21st birthday. We went to an Indian restaurant, drank beer, and had a spongy, kind-of-tasteless, but icing-ed cake! Fun, random Tuesday night and Saturday we are going to Heaven to see The Nightmare Before Christmas and Julie and Julia during Happy Hour. Heaven, movies, and Happy Hour, what more could you ask for?
Heaven is an American restaurant that is crazy expensive but has good happy hour specials. On Saturday nights they show movies. They also offer unlimited free internet. Heaven’s pretty grand.
Speaking of 21st birthdays, mine is coming up! In four months. For those of you who haven’t heard, I have been accepted to the Dakar, Senegal study abroad program for next semester, which is where I will be celebrating my 21st. Guess where, according to the program’s schedule, I will be on my super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic birthday. No, not the beautiful beaches Senegal is well-known for. Guess again. Nope, I won’t be hiking in the green hill country. Try again. A mazungu resort you say, for my week long Spring Break? No, my spring break is in March. My birthday is in April. You really need to work on your guessing skills.
My super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic 21st birthday will take place during the ONLY week we are in our rural homestays, separate from everyone else in the group. Four days of the whole semester I will be staying in the middle of nowhere with people I don’t know and my super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic 21st birthday just happens to fall within those four days.
At least it’s a super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic story to tell my children. What other American has their 21st birthday in the middle of Nowhere, Africa? And because I don’t deserve your forthcoming pity, I must tell you that the day after my birthday we all return to Dakar and can celebrate then. So I get a super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic story while also getting to do the traditional drinking and partying thing with my friends. Really, I get the best of both worlds. Only in Africa.
Heaven is an American restaurant that is crazy expensive but has good happy hour specials. On Saturday nights they show movies. They also offer unlimited free internet. Heaven’s pretty grand.
Speaking of 21st birthdays, mine is coming up! In four months. For those of you who haven’t heard, I have been accepted to the Dakar, Senegal study abroad program for next semester, which is where I will be celebrating my 21st. Guess where, according to the program’s schedule, I will be on my super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic birthday. No, not the beautiful beaches Senegal is well-known for. Guess again. Nope, I won’t be hiking in the green hill country. Try again. A mazungu resort you say, for my week long Spring Break? No, my spring break is in March. My birthday is in April. You really need to work on your guessing skills.
My super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic 21st birthday will take place during the ONLY week we are in our rural homestays, separate from everyone else in the group. Four days of the whole semester I will be staying in the middle of nowhere with people I don’t know and my super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic 21st birthday just happens to fall within those four days.
At least it’s a super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic story to tell my children. What other American has their 21st birthday in the middle of Nowhere, Africa? And because I don’t deserve your forthcoming pity, I must tell you that the day after my birthday we all return to Dakar and can celebrate then. So I get a super important, once-in-a-lifetime, epic story while also getting to do the traditional drinking and partying thing with my friends. Really, I get the best of both worlds. Only in Africa.
Thanksgiving
For Thanksgiving my friend Thammika and I went to this delicious (and expensive) pizza place. The restaurant was gorgeous, the atmosphere was relaxed, and the food was real – they had actual mozzarella! My friend had her first salad in three months and I had my first actual pizza in three months. I designed it myself! A dough base with marinara sauce, mozzarella cheese, pili pili sausage (sausage cooked in chili sauce), green pepper, tomato, and basil. So good. I also ordered a juice concoction of pineapple juice, grenadine, passion fruit juice, and Smirnoff. Yummy.
Then Thammika and I re-enacted our lives in America, just chilling and chatting at the restaurant for a couple of hours. Then we got hit on by drunk older South African men (which does not happen in my American life), bailed, and went to the casino. Where we ran into the same South African guys, only they were drunker. But my night ended well: I won $41 dollars!!!
Then I motorcycled home because it’s the cheapest way to travel at night. And the funnest. Talked to a good majority of my fam at home, which was super nice. It sucks I had to miss the holiday with them and the best meal of the year.
That was my first African Thanksgiving! I’m sure it won’t be the last, but it was epic all the same. Hope y’all had a Happy Thanksgiving!
Then Thammika and I re-enacted our lives in America, just chilling and chatting at the restaurant for a couple of hours. Then we got hit on by drunk older South African men (which does not happen in my American life), bailed, and went to the casino. Where we ran into the same South African guys, only they were drunker. But my night ended well: I won $41 dollars!!!
Then I motorcycled home because it’s the cheapest way to travel at night. And the funnest. Talked to a good majority of my fam at home, which was super nice. It sucks I had to miss the holiday with them and the best meal of the year.
That was my first African Thanksgiving! I’m sure it won’t be the last, but it was epic all the same. Hope y’all had a Happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
How to Live in Africa with No Money - No, Seriously, Tell Me How.
So my research time has started. No more long lectures (2 hours! 3 lectures a day! German program director!) No more excursions. No more students – about ¾ went back to Uganda. I decided to do my research in Rwanda, considering it’s the reason I chose this program.
During our research time we are on our own. We’re handed some money and sent off into Africa. That money is very slim because, you see, everywhere in Africa is cheap. Africa is not developed. They can not compete in the world market. You can buy a meal for a dollar no matter where you go. Or so the SIT office in America thinks, an office which clearly does not hire anyone who has actually been to Africa.
Before coming to Rwanda I had heard that it was expensive. I, foolishly, interpreted that to mean expensive compared to Uganda and not expensive compared to the US. I was wrong. While many things are cheaper than in the US, things are definitely more expensive than I budgeted for. And everyday things that we don’t really think about in the US are crazy expensive here. Housing (Rwanda is the most densely populated country in Africa – land is hard to come by, especially in the capital), internet ($1 an hour – add up the amount of time you spend on internet a day and think about a college budget and then feel very, very sorry for me), and airtime (I spend about 10-15 dollars a week on phone calls because I have to call so many people about interviews). Basically, SIT sucks and is trying to steal our money. And I am the lone white person begging on the streets of Rwanda for the 20 cents that will get me 10 minutes of research time on the internet.
With all of the necessary costs that come along with research, housing was a joke. There was just no way to feed myself and to live in a student hostel all within the money SIT gave us. So I started searching for cheap places to stay in Rwanda back when I was in Uganda. I went on couchsurfers, an awesome website where people around the world let you stay on their couches for free while you travel the world. I posted a message asking if anyone knew of a cheap place and this Congolese guy responded saying he was going to Canada for the month and my friends and I could stay at his place. I met up with him here. He is an NGO worker who is starting a new program to combine soccer and forum theatre with kids as a form of informal peace education. He is super nice, speaks several languages, and offered to let me and my friends stay free of charge. We only have to pay for electricity and gas (a gas stove – I didn’t know those existed in Rwanda).
So now I have moved in with three other friends. And we definitely have the best living situation of all the people in the program. Sure sometimes our water runs out for days at a time and we live off the charity of our neighbors; and sometimes we slide down the driveway to our house and curse the person who decided making a driveway out of rocks in a country where it rains everyday was a good idea; and sure sometimes we accidentally tear our mosquito nets from the ceiling and aren’t tall enough to replace them. But overall I am having an amazing month in my gorgeously decorated, gate-enclosed, comfortable house in Rwanda. Life is good.
Except research is hard. And having no money while doing it is even harder.
During our research time we are on our own. We’re handed some money and sent off into Africa. That money is very slim because, you see, everywhere in Africa is cheap. Africa is not developed. They can not compete in the world market. You can buy a meal for a dollar no matter where you go. Or so the SIT office in America thinks, an office which clearly does not hire anyone who has actually been to Africa.
Before coming to Rwanda I had heard that it was expensive. I, foolishly, interpreted that to mean expensive compared to Uganda and not expensive compared to the US. I was wrong. While many things are cheaper than in the US, things are definitely more expensive than I budgeted for. And everyday things that we don’t really think about in the US are crazy expensive here. Housing (Rwanda is the most densely populated country in Africa – land is hard to come by, especially in the capital), internet ($1 an hour – add up the amount of time you spend on internet a day and think about a college budget and then feel very, very sorry for me), and airtime (I spend about 10-15 dollars a week on phone calls because I have to call so many people about interviews). Basically, SIT sucks and is trying to steal our money. And I am the lone white person begging on the streets of Rwanda for the 20 cents that will get me 10 minutes of research time on the internet.
With all of the necessary costs that come along with research, housing was a joke. There was just no way to feed myself and to live in a student hostel all within the money SIT gave us. So I started searching for cheap places to stay in Rwanda back when I was in Uganda. I went on couchsurfers, an awesome website where people around the world let you stay on their couches for free while you travel the world. I posted a message asking if anyone knew of a cheap place and this Congolese guy responded saying he was going to Canada for the month and my friends and I could stay at his place. I met up with him here. He is an NGO worker who is starting a new program to combine soccer and forum theatre with kids as a form of informal peace education. He is super nice, speaks several languages, and offered to let me and my friends stay free of charge. We only have to pay for electricity and gas (a gas stove – I didn’t know those existed in Rwanda).
So now I have moved in with three other friends. And we definitely have the best living situation of all the people in the program. Sure sometimes our water runs out for days at a time and we live off the charity of our neighbors; and sometimes we slide down the driveway to our house and curse the person who decided making a driveway out of rocks in a country where it rains everyday was a good idea; and sure sometimes we accidentally tear our mosquito nets from the ceiling and aren’t tall enough to replace them. But overall I am having an amazing month in my gorgeously decorated, gate-enclosed, comfortable house in Rwanda. Life is good.
Except research is hard. And having no money while doing it is even harder.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Holiday and Halloween
It’s happy post time! I thought I would divide my posts into happy and unhappy posts because otherwise I might get bogged down posting about the “unhappy” and you might get the impression I am not having a fantastic time here (which I am).
To de-stress from all of the genocide memorials, my directors took us to the village of Kibuye to relax. How is a village relaxing, you ask? Well this particular village happens to be the home to a resort on Lake Kivu near the Congo border. And it is gorgeous. And I had one of the most relaxing times in my life there. I swam in the lake surrounded by islands, watched fun movies (as opposed to genocide movies, which we also watched but I’m pretending we didn’t), read fun books (as opposed to genocide books), hiked, ate a cheeseburger (a big treat here), and just gazed at my beautiful surroundings. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. My sanity, after all of the genocide, was restored. And when most of the students returned to Kigali, a few friends and I stayed for the weekend (for $6 a night!). Best weekend this semester by far.
Another happy event was Halloween. My director threw a party at our school and invited a bunch of her foreign friends; it was a nice change to talk to non-Africans and non-Americans. After the party a group of us went to the Kigali Casino. I walked away with money, which took care of my gambling debt from Kampala. We left the casino at closing time (5 am) and because none of us wanted to wake our families up, we decided to sleep in the lobby. During the two hours that we slept on the lobby couch not one hotel employee approached us to tell us to either pay for a room or leave. My theory is that when we do stupid stuff like this, that no one here would ever do, not even the youth, they honestly have no idea how to react. So they don’t react. Which means that you can pretty much get away with anything you want.
After our public sleeping, we bused it to town for a mazungu (white person) breakfast. Best omelet I have ever had. And the most expensive. Then I took my to-go coffee cup (so rare) to gacaca. Gacaca is a traditional justice system implemented post-genocide to prosecute genocide perpetrators. It is widely viewed as a productive and efficient traditional justice system, one of the best in the world. I have waited to attend a session for several years now. I will definitely write a separate post on the gacaca because I think it was relevant to understanding post-conflict justice.
Overall, awesome Halloween.
Yay for happiness!
To de-stress from all of the genocide memorials, my directors took us to the village of Kibuye to relax. How is a village relaxing, you ask? Well this particular village happens to be the home to a resort on Lake Kivu near the Congo border. And it is gorgeous. And I had one of the most relaxing times in my life there. I swam in the lake surrounded by islands, watched fun movies (as opposed to genocide movies, which we also watched but I’m pretending we didn’t), read fun books (as opposed to genocide books), hiked, ate a cheeseburger (a big treat here), and just gazed at my beautiful surroundings. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. My sanity, after all of the genocide, was restored. And when most of the students returned to Kigali, a few friends and I stayed for the weekend (for $6 a night!). Best weekend this semester by far.
Another happy event was Halloween. My director threw a party at our school and invited a bunch of her foreign friends; it was a nice change to talk to non-Africans and non-Americans. After the party a group of us went to the Kigali Casino. I walked away with money, which took care of my gambling debt from Kampala. We left the casino at closing time (5 am) and because none of us wanted to wake our families up, we decided to sleep in the lobby. During the two hours that we slept on the lobby couch not one hotel employee approached us to tell us to either pay for a room or leave. My theory is that when we do stupid stuff like this, that no one here would ever do, not even the youth, they honestly have no idea how to react. So they don’t react. Which means that you can pretty much get away with anything you want.
After our public sleeping, we bused it to town for a mazungu (white person) breakfast. Best omelet I have ever had. And the most expensive. Then I took my to-go coffee cup (so rare) to gacaca. Gacaca is a traditional justice system implemented post-genocide to prosecute genocide perpetrators. It is widely viewed as a productive and efficient traditional justice system, one of the best in the world. I have waited to attend a session for several years now. I will definitely write a separate post on the gacaca because I think it was relevant to understanding post-conflict justice.
Overall, awesome Halloween.
Yay for happiness!
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