Back to Butare

So ive been back in Butare for almost a week now. God it feels good to be back. This last week has been so much fun, and the compound really feels like my home. The pastor I worked with was nice but I do have some issues with how that week went. Dont get me wrong, I'm happy that he's my counterpart. He has traveled quite a bit, and he is going on his second trip to the U.S. soon. I think he is fairly well known. I tried to speak as much kinyarwanda as I could muster but it was difficult to say anything of any significance, and even more difficult to understand what people said to me-- i felt somewhat like a toddler who's first learning how to speak and cant form complete sentences, just selects nouns and verbs. I have trouble conjugating, especially when it comes to the noun classes (there are 16 noun classes in Kinyarwanda-- the ajdective conjugates to the noun.)

I am so happy that I will have my own house-- living with a resource family would drive me crazy! I am soooo happy that our PCT is at the compound instead of with individual host families like most Peace Corps groups. I greatly value my privacy, and I already feel like i'm constantly under a microscope, so living with a family only increased this. Let me explain, so I dont sound like a whiny little brat.

I had a little bit of a sniffle while I was at my site that week. It's not a big deal, its usually allergies and it goes away. However, ANY TIME I sniffled even a little bit, whoever I was around would act like I was dying! They'd ask me a million questions-- was I ok? Did I need to go to the hospital? What did I have? They'd readily offer to go to the store to get me medication, and I'd have to almost yell at them so that they wouldn't. I explained over and over again (often to the same people) that it's just allergies, I get sniffles all the time and its not serious, plus I had decongestant meds already. Its like I had to say the same thing 20 times in order to get through to anyone. This sort of concern was not limited to the family I was staying with, but with ANYONE I even so much as said hi to. It happened while I was walking to school to teach, I was even talked to by a man who looked MUCH sicker than me, it felt kind of offensive.I wonder if it has to do with the fact that i'm white or a foreinger, or if Rwandans behave this way towards other Rwandans. I also had quite a few mosquito bites, and anytime I scrathed one I would again be bombarded with questions and looks of concern. To top it off, I cut myself while shaving my legs, and the skirt I wore didnt cover up the cut. I tried to hide it, but sure enough word spread that I was injured and needed medical help. Pretty frustrating.

Another incident which was both strange and entertaining happened one of the last days I was there. I hadn't locked the door to my room, and I was changing my shirt. Not naked, just changing shirts. The Pastor's daughter walked in while I was still in my bra, and she caught sight of my belly button piercing. She looked concerned and, thinking that something had gotten stuck in me, started pulling on it to take it out. I tried to explain to her (she speaks very good English) that i was not injured, that the metal bar was SUPPOSED to be there. There really is a big difference between Rwandans in terms of this. I was originally told that no one in Rwanda has tattoos/piercings or has even heard of them, but I have seen local women who have both, so I know that's not true.

One aspect of Rwandan culture that makes me feel very uneasy is that there is a heavy religous influence, specifically a Christian influence. Of course I know that I have to adapt, but I feel like there is a lot of conflict to come in terms of this. I remember that, many years ago, my cousin Cloe told me that when she lived in Senegal, she told people she was Jewish, because it is better to have some kind of religion than to have no religion at all in Africa. Even though I'm sure Senegal is vastly different from Rwanda, I took her advice, and I've been telling people I'm Jewish whenever I'm asked a question about religion. I have often been asked what church I go to, if i'm a Christian, etc. Asking someone if they are Christian is along the same lines as asking someone their name or what they do for a living. There are different branches of Christianity here, and there are Muslims as well, but as far as I've been told, there are no Syagogues. I guess there are very few Jews in Rwanda, if there are any at all. When I told the pastor that I was Jewish, he appeared to be somewhat familiar with Judaism, but I think the majority of the people here do not know what it is, and it's difficult for me to explain to people. I'm still going to stick to telling people I'm Jewish, it's too late to change now, and since i'm not lying (i'm cutlurally and ethnically Jewish, but not religous), I figured it would be the best thing to say. I thought that telling people this would stop them from pushing me to go to church all the time, but i'm not so sure that's true. The principle of my school was familiar with the holocaust, but then he went on to ask me if this meant I was rich, and if i'm orginally from Israel. Oh well.

I just really need to learn how to deal with these sorts of situations better. Right now I still feel uncomforatble when it comes to this. The pastor had some guests over to the house, a very nice couple who spoke fairly good English, and then out of nowhere the woman asked me if I was saved. I felt caught off guard, so I just said yes (I don't even really know what being saved means), and then she asked me if my family was saved. In hindsight, I should have answered differently, but I still don't know what I should have said exactly.

I did however, agree to go to church with the pastor's daughter one time. I really don't mind going to church once in a while, in fact, I feel like I should out of respect since I'm working primarily with a pastor and with all the people who attend his church. However, I don't want to go every week for hours at a time, and I don't want anyone to try to convert me. I respect their beliefs, so they should respect mine. I don't go around telling people God sucks or is fabrication just because I'm athiest-- I honestly don't care what people believe in as long as they let me be.

Anywho, going to the church was quite an experience. I walked in expecting the typical scene, but the pews were all backed up in a corner. Instead, there was a large circle consisting mostly of women sitting on the floor, with one woman in the center on her hands and knees. The man who I'm assuming was one of the pastors was standing above her with a microphone connected to two huge speakers. As the only caucasian walking into church in the middle of a service, I definately brought a lot of attention upon myself. I just followed the girl's lead, walking past people and then eventually sitting down. We watched as the pastor put his hand on the woman's head, then scream things I could not understand. This took some time, and he rubbed her back and shoulders as well. The woman was moved to tears, it was obviously very emotional for her. After he was done, they played recorded music while a bunch of people got up and danced around the woman. I watched as he and other pastor did this over and over again with different people, mostly women, but one man. The pastor would ask who was sick, or had a problem, or knew someone who was in trouble and needed help. A volunteer would come forward, and the pastor would then "cure" the problem by touching the person in a certain way and screaming for an unspecified period of time. Each "healing session" (i don't know what else to call it) would end with music and dancing. It reminded me of the church scenes in the movie "There Will be Blood". I really hoped that the pastor would not ask me to volunteer. At one point, I was given an interpreter. I woman got up and sat next to me, then suddenly started speaking to me in English. I was grateful for this, because it made me feel more included. It made me feel welcome there. The stories people had for needing healing were interesting. At one point, the pastor fixated his eyes on me and told me my fortune. My interpreter told me that he was saying I,("umuzungu", as they call white people) had come to Rwanda for a good purpose. I was going to help improve Rwanda, and then I would be going to the Congo to improve conditions there. This was fun and I was flattered, but was also a bit difficult for me to hold back laughter-- as a PCV, I'm not even allowed to go into the Congo. I managed to keep a calm composure, and shrotly afterward, the daughter led the way out, as I guess the service went on all day. It was an interesting experience, but I don't know how many times I'd be able to go in there. I don't know if the church has several different styles of serivce, or if it is always like that. I found myself craving the comforts of being surrounded by people who understand me, so I was relieved once I got back to Butare.

I guess this entry hasn't been the most upbeat. I want to stress that I still really like Rwanda and am proud to serve here. I guess I just feel like I have to tell it like it is while still censuring myself (trust me i'm leaving out a lot). I don't want to lie about stuff because years later, when I read these blogs, I want to remember what really happened and how things really went down. That's all.