So... first few weeks at site. Just basic life here is a lot to get used to. At the compound, we were kinda spoiled. I didn't even always do my own laundry, since the cleaning women at the nunnery did some of it for us. I really miss washing machines, refrigerators, running water, reliable electricity, and paved roads. I also miss set prices, because I'm tired of bargaining for everything, knowing that I have to work twice as hard because a white girl like me is always given the "muzungu" price first.
A little about my living situation. So, as I mentioned earlier I work for a pastor, which should be interesting given my personal beliefs. Hopefully there wont be too much conflict. Im really excited about teaching, and I’m really happy that ill be teaching adolescents and young adults instead of children. I have my own house, which is bright turquoise both inside and out, so I can see my house from quite far away-- as you can imagine, it stands out what with the color and all. I’m pretty sure everyone and their mom already knows where I live. I have bars on all my windows, two gates, a guard, and I live right across from the police commander's house, so there’s no need to worry about my safety (ahem, Mom). This is way safer than the rickety apartment I lived in while in college.
I live at the bottom of a hill (well, in my opinion it’s more like a mountain) which I have to hike up using a steep and at times windey and rocky path. There’s another way, which is the way the taxis and SUVs go, but it takes WAY longer and just isn’t worth it. I was worried about getting fat here, but now I’m realizing that I may have the opposite problem. Even though a lot of the food here is starchy and fatty, I don’t eat big portions and this walk up and down the mountain everyday may ensure that I never need to worry about watching my waistline. In fact, I have to pull up my pants every two seconds to avoid giving someone a nice clear view of my gorgeous arse. I’m always worried that I’m doing just that when I hear people hiking up behind me, giggling like crazy. Maybe I'm just self-conscious-- they do seem to giggle a lot here.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Swearing In Ceremony
So, we had our Swearing in Cermony, and I am now officially a PCV! Yay! I knew I filled out that long assed appliaction, got blood drawn, and had all the other medical stuff for a reason. The ceremony was held at the American Ambassador to Rwanda's house, which I have to say is NIIICEE. Wow. We didn't see much of it, mostly just the backyard, but I noticed that the kitchen was about the size of my entire house! The food was sooo good, probably the best samosas Ive had since I got to Rwanda (they're a triangular shaped fried egg-roll type thing filled with meat), hotdogs, and delicious cookies! The cups and even the napkins we used had the US seal on them-- made me feel special.
Of course there were speeches. By the ambassador, by some of our volunteers (in both Kinyarwanda and in English), and by other guest speakers. After we raised our right hand and repeated the oath, making it official, we hugged each other and our Kinyarwanda teachers. I was surprised to see the pastor along with his wife among the audience. They greeted me and we talked a bit. Im really glad they came, because I feel that it means they have a real interest in working with me. That I'm not just some piece of free labor.
Later that night, at a bar, we saw that our swearing in ceremony was on the news! Im sure only people in Rwanda saw it, but it was still pretty cool seeing ourselves on TV and being talked about. We're also featured on www.newtimes.co.rw, the embassy's website, and recently, Paul Kagame made a speech about us. It feels good to know our presence is appreciated and wanted.
15 anniversary of the genocide
Yes, I know its been forevor, but im seriously crazy busy, and blogging just isnt at the top of my priority list, so im about a month behind. Ill do my best to highlight the important events.
The last week of training in Butare before swear in was a little particular. It marked the beginning of the 15 anniversary of the genocide. THe first week, and especially the first day, is a HUGE deal in all of Rwanda (and understandably so, of course). THe first day, all schools and businesses are closed, and for the rest of the week, all stores and businesses have very limited hours. There are also conferences held everywhere all week long. I did not attend any of them, since the ones I knew about were all in Kinyarwanda, and I wouldnt be able to follow anything.
The first day was really something to experience, especially since all of our Kinyarwanda teachers who weve gotten to know quite well were there with us. THe streets of Butare were completely empty, except for the silent march which we joined. I dont remember if there were many (if any) signs being held up by people, save the large purple banner (purple is the color of mourning in Rwanda) with the words "never again the genocide...." in the front of the group (Im parphrasing, since I couldnt comprehend the rest of the kinyarwandan words).We marched all the way to a grave site for the victims of genocide, and as we progressed more and more people joined. It really felt deep and meaningful, walking with a large group of Rwandans where every group seemed represented. We walked with beggar children, nuns, professors, government officials, students... I really felt a strong notion of solidarity. Even though some of us, including myself, were not in Rwanda at the time, and some people were not even born until after 1994, it meant something that we could all participate in this event and support each other.
Once we got to the grave site, we listened to government officials and representatives from different churches give speeches and words of hope. Some people wept, including some of our Kinyarwanda teachers, and I felt guilty somehow. I felt like I couldnt possibly understand what they were going through or how they felt, how many people they had grown up with who were brutally killed or in jail due to involvement.
Since we didnt have class that day, and everything in town was closed, us PCVS, as well as some staff, stayed at the compound to watch sevearl movies about hte genocide. I highly recommend the movie Sometimes in April, it seems really accurate and real to me having lived in Rwanda for a few months now. the movie 100 days on the other hand is complete crap and i dont recommend it to anyone, since it was made by people who didnt even take 5 minutes to research the genocide.
The last week of training in Butare before swear in was a little particular. It marked the beginning of the 15 anniversary of the genocide. THe first week, and especially the first day, is a HUGE deal in all of Rwanda (and understandably so, of course). THe first day, all schools and businesses are closed, and for the rest of the week, all stores and businesses have very limited hours. There are also conferences held everywhere all week long. I did not attend any of them, since the ones I knew about were all in Kinyarwanda, and I wouldnt be able to follow anything.
The first day was really something to experience, especially since all of our Kinyarwanda teachers who weve gotten to know quite well were there with us. THe streets of Butare were completely empty, except for the silent march which we joined. I dont remember if there were many (if any) signs being held up by people, save the large purple banner (purple is the color of mourning in Rwanda) with the words "never again the genocide...." in the front of the group (Im parphrasing, since I couldnt comprehend the rest of the kinyarwandan words).We marched all the way to a grave site for the victims of genocide, and as we progressed more and more people joined. It really felt deep and meaningful, walking with a large group of Rwandans where every group seemed represented. We walked with beggar children, nuns, professors, government officials, students... I really felt a strong notion of solidarity. Even though some of us, including myself, were not in Rwanda at the time, and some people were not even born until after 1994, it meant something that we could all participate in this event and support each other.
Once we got to the grave site, we listened to government officials and representatives from different churches give speeches and words of hope. Some people wept, including some of our Kinyarwanda teachers, and I felt guilty somehow. I felt like I couldnt possibly understand what they were going through or how they felt, how many people they had grown up with who were brutally killed or in jail due to involvement.
Since we didnt have class that day, and everything in town was closed, us PCVS, as well as some staff, stayed at the compound to watch sevearl movies about hte genocide. I highly recommend the movie Sometimes in April, it seems really accurate and real to me having lived in Rwanda for a few months now. the movie 100 days on the other hand is complete crap and i dont recommend it to anyone, since it was made by people who didnt even take 5 minutes to research the genocide.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Presentation
So I wrote a very long and detailed entry here, but, since internet here moves at the speed of a diseased snail, and cuts in and out all the time, everything was completely lost and i'm so bummed. TIA (This is Africa). Basically, I gave several presentations in Kinyarwanda to an orphanage in Nyanza along with about 6 other PCVs. It went really well. We went over basic hygiene and hydration with the kindergartners, and came back the next week to do a presentation on sexual health to the teen orphans. I really liked Nyanza and the orphanage there. We got really positive feedback from the teachers and the students, and it felt genuine. For the first time since I've been here, I really felt like I could make a difference in Rwanda.
I got a dress made for my swearing in ceremony. It's not very African looking but I think it's really beautiful. It's gold with sequins, and poofs out at the bottom. Kay, I realize this information may be very boring for some...
I passed all my tests and I'll be swearing in as a PCV on Weds. I signed the papers and everything so now it's official. We got super fancy invitations to the ceremony, which will be held at an undisclosed location ( I can't say on the blog). Anywho, I gotta finish up packing. I'll miss Butare but I'm sooo excited!
I got a dress made for my swearing in ceremony. It's not very African looking but I think it's really beautiful. It's gold with sequins, and poofs out at the bottom. Kay, I realize this information may be very boring for some...
I passed all my tests and I'll be swearing in as a PCV on Weds. I signed the papers and everything so now it's official. We got super fancy invitations to the ceremony, which will be held at an undisclosed location ( I can't say on the blog). Anywho, I gotta finish up packing. I'll miss Butare but I'm sooo excited!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Music and News from Home
So at this point, I have recieved two packages from my mom, and I have a third on the way that I'm very excited about! I miss all the delicious food from home, so much that I dream about food almost every night. It's pretty rediculous. Just last night I had a dream that I had a plate full of delicious shrimp, and just when I had dipped it in sauce and was about to eat it, someone knocked on the door and woke me up. I was pretty pissed off. I can't even enjoy pretend food :(. Anywho, on to sunnier things.
Mom- thanks soooo much for sending me comfort items. Just seeing your handwriting on the box was such a huge relief, I actually kept the labeling for a while, much as a crazy obsessive stalker freak would. I also want to say congrats to my cousin Kevin for the job in Seattle. Mom told me a little about the job, it sounds cool. I know that you weren't planning on staying in San Fran for long, and now I have a place to crash in Seattle (I'm jumping to conclusions on this of course).
Since I dedicated a blog entry to food, I thought I'd also dedicate a blog entry to music. I have had the luxury of going to two concerts since I've been here. Well, one was a reggae concert at the stadium by the compound which was pretty cool. The other was an awards show with various performances. The musical performances at the awards show were very obviously influenced by American music videos. I didn't so much enjoy the long acceptance speeches in Kinyarwanda since I could only pick up a word here or there. The music was ok, a little too comercial/generic for my taste. It mostly included rap and R&B. What I enjoyed most was the dancing. There were some really good hip hop dancers, so even though pretty much every performer was obviously lip synching, i didn't mind. Since Rwanda is a relatively conservative country (well, outside of Kigali), it was surprising and, in a way, refreshingly familiar to see girls shake their asses in super tight outfits. What I found a bit odd was that this was supposedly a relatively fancy affair; there was actually a red carpet out front, and the artists are supposedly very well known (in Rwanda), but anyone could get tickets to this awards ceremony, and the artists who performed sat in the same seats as regular ticket buyers. There was definate cheering and jeering, but none of the locals seemed star struck the way people get in LA. I also found it odd that people would walk on and off the stage in the middle of a singer's performance.
I've also seen quite a few Rwandan music videos at this point. There are the more traditional videos that feature women or girls dancing Rwandan dances to drums while wearing conservative clothing. By contrast, the rap videos consist of quick camera shots, and often, girls shaking their ass in tight, revealing outfits. Rap culture is interesting. I feel like, generally, it used to be more about what life was like in the ghetto-- the violence, the drugs, the struggle. Today, commercial rap is all about bragging, especially showing off material posessions. It's interesting to compare American rap videos to Rwandan rap videos. While a Jay-Z or Lil Wayne video would show off an Escalade or a Benz, Rwandan rap videos show a bunch of guys hanging out by a 5 year old Honda. They're still showing off, but they're showing off what they can. I can't watch an R&B video without laughing. They're so rediculously corny, I don't understand how these people are taken seriously. This is not to say that there are not good music videos. Overall, I find them entertaining.
Mom- thanks soooo much for sending me comfort items. Just seeing your handwriting on the box was such a huge relief, I actually kept the labeling for a while, much as a crazy obsessive stalker freak would. I also want to say congrats to my cousin Kevin for the job in Seattle. Mom told me a little about the job, it sounds cool. I know that you weren't planning on staying in San Fran for long, and now I have a place to crash in Seattle (I'm jumping to conclusions on this of course).
Since I dedicated a blog entry to food, I thought I'd also dedicate a blog entry to music. I have had the luxury of going to two concerts since I've been here. Well, one was a reggae concert at the stadium by the compound which was pretty cool. The other was an awards show with various performances. The musical performances at the awards show were very obviously influenced by American music videos. I didn't so much enjoy the long acceptance speeches in Kinyarwanda since I could only pick up a word here or there. The music was ok, a little too comercial/generic for my taste. It mostly included rap and R&B. What I enjoyed most was the dancing. There were some really good hip hop dancers, so even though pretty much every performer was obviously lip synching, i didn't mind. Since Rwanda is a relatively conservative country (well, outside of Kigali), it was surprising and, in a way, refreshingly familiar to see girls shake their asses in super tight outfits. What I found a bit odd was that this was supposedly a relatively fancy affair; there was actually a red carpet out front, and the artists are supposedly very well known (in Rwanda), but anyone could get tickets to this awards ceremony, and the artists who performed sat in the same seats as regular ticket buyers. There was definate cheering and jeering, but none of the locals seemed star struck the way people get in LA. I also found it odd that people would walk on and off the stage in the middle of a singer's performance.
I've also seen quite a few Rwandan music videos at this point. There are the more traditional videos that feature women or girls dancing Rwandan dances to drums while wearing conservative clothing. By contrast, the rap videos consist of quick camera shots, and often, girls shaking their ass in tight, revealing outfits. Rap culture is interesting. I feel like, generally, it used to be more about what life was like in the ghetto-- the violence, the drugs, the struggle. Today, commercial rap is all about bragging, especially showing off material posessions. It's interesting to compare American rap videos to Rwandan rap videos. While a Jay-Z or Lil Wayne video would show off an Escalade or a Benz, Rwandan rap videos show a bunch of guys hanging out by a 5 year old Honda. They're still showing off, but they're showing off what they can. I can't watch an R&B video without laughing. They're so rediculously corny, I don't understand how these people are taken seriously. This is not to say that there are not good music videos. Overall, I find them entertaining.
Food!
First and foremost, thank you for the comments, they're greatly appreciated! It feels good to have "followers" to my blog, makes me feel less cut off from the world. Thanks for toasting me Sondra, and thanks Diane and Lisa!
So i decided to dedicate one blog entry to food, since that has been a subject many people have asked questions about. Rwanda is a beautiful country with a lot of greenery. It seems like good soil for a large variety of vegetables, but for some reason, there is very little variance. If we want to go out to eat without spending a lot of money or waiting 3 hours for food (yes, it sometimes takes that long)then we go out to resteraunts and use the buffet. Most resteraunts in Rwanda have buffets, and every place I have been to in and out of Butare has had the exact same items for the buffet: French fries, plantain, rice, kassava leaves, spaghetti, kassava bread, goat meat, beans, and tomato sauce. The price varies from about 800 to 2,000 RWF (Rwandan Fracs).
The food is not spicy, but people sometimes add some "pili" ( yellow pepper sauce) which is quite strong. I've had it a few times, but i usually just mix food items together then add salt. The food we are given at the compound is fairly good by comparison to what I have had elsewhere in Rwanda, so I feel lucky. One of my favorite days here, however, was the night the kitchen staff allowed some PCVs to cook dinner! I helped shop for some items, but I stayed out of the kitchen. We had delicious pizza (that actually tasted like pizza!), and one volunteer made mass amounts of guacamole. By far the best meal I've had since I've been here, and I really want to thank all the PCVs who've helped make food here-- your efforts are greatly appreciated.
Only a few days later, we had a "Rwandan cooking" day. We were split up into groups and assigned two trainers to accompany us to the market and bargain for food. It was fun, and I learned some new vocabulary. It was also a little depressing, seeing some very sick babies next to their mothers who were selling fruit.
When I say we cooked Rwandan style, I mean we really cooked Rwandan style. We got 4 live chickens which we had to slaughter. I didn't partake in the killing of the chickens, but I watched and took pictures. It bothered quite a few of the volunteers- both the ones who partook and the ones who watched. Maybe I'm just heartless, but watching the chickens get decapitated didn't bother me. I'd never seen anything like it. First they would step on the chicken to hold it still, pluck its feathers around the neck, then cut the neck as quickly as possible. There is quite a bit of blood, and like I thought, the chicken still moves around for quite a while after its head is cut off. The knife we were given to cut the chicken's neck was dull, so it took longer than it should to perform "the duty". What happened that day would have made PETA declare world war. When a volunteer was killing the last chicken, she said "i can't do this", then suddenly let go in the middle of the act. The chicken's neck was halfway cutoff at that point, and it went flying all over the place with it's head half on. It was a pretty terrible (but entertaining) scene. People freaked out and ran when the chicken came near them-- I mean, that thing looked like one bloody airborne ball. Even one of the male teachers freaked out and ran behind the wall. After about 30 seconds or so of this, one predictable male teacher grabbed the flying chicken, took it back to the grass, and swiftly cut off the neck without flinching. Needless to say, it was an intersting day! Hopefully I haven't made my vegetarian friends throw up with this story.
So i decided to dedicate one blog entry to food, since that has been a subject many people have asked questions about. Rwanda is a beautiful country with a lot of greenery. It seems like good soil for a large variety of vegetables, but for some reason, there is very little variance. If we want to go out to eat without spending a lot of money or waiting 3 hours for food (yes, it sometimes takes that long)then we go out to resteraunts and use the buffet. Most resteraunts in Rwanda have buffets, and every place I have been to in and out of Butare has had the exact same items for the buffet: French fries, plantain, rice, kassava leaves, spaghetti, kassava bread, goat meat, beans, and tomato sauce. The price varies from about 800 to 2,000 RWF (Rwandan Fracs).
The food is not spicy, but people sometimes add some "pili" ( yellow pepper sauce) which is quite strong. I've had it a few times, but i usually just mix food items together then add salt. The food we are given at the compound is fairly good by comparison to what I have had elsewhere in Rwanda, so I feel lucky. One of my favorite days here, however, was the night the kitchen staff allowed some PCVs to cook dinner! I helped shop for some items, but I stayed out of the kitchen. We had delicious pizza (that actually tasted like pizza!), and one volunteer made mass amounts of guacamole. By far the best meal I've had since I've been here, and I really want to thank all the PCVs who've helped make food here-- your efforts are greatly appreciated.
Only a few days later, we had a "Rwandan cooking" day. We were split up into groups and assigned two trainers to accompany us to the market and bargain for food. It was fun, and I learned some new vocabulary. It was also a little depressing, seeing some very sick babies next to their mothers who were selling fruit.
When I say we cooked Rwandan style, I mean we really cooked Rwandan style. We got 4 live chickens which we had to slaughter. I didn't partake in the killing of the chickens, but I watched and took pictures. It bothered quite a few of the volunteers- both the ones who partook and the ones who watched. Maybe I'm just heartless, but watching the chickens get decapitated didn't bother me. I'd never seen anything like it. First they would step on the chicken to hold it still, pluck its feathers around the neck, then cut the neck as quickly as possible. There is quite a bit of blood, and like I thought, the chicken still moves around for quite a while after its head is cut off. The knife we were given to cut the chicken's neck was dull, so it took longer than it should to perform "the duty". What happened that day would have made PETA declare world war. When a volunteer was killing the last chicken, she said "i can't do this", then suddenly let go in the middle of the act. The chicken's neck was halfway cutoff at that point, and it went flying all over the place with it's head half on. It was a pretty terrible (but entertaining) scene. People freaked out and ran when the chicken came near them-- I mean, that thing looked like one bloody airborne ball. Even one of the male teachers freaked out and ran behind the wall. After about 30 seconds or so of this, one predictable male teacher grabbed the flying chicken, took it back to the grass, and swiftly cut off the neck without flinching. Needless to say, it was an intersting day! Hopefully I haven't made my vegetarian friends throw up with this story.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
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.
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.
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