So....it's been a long time since I've had time to blog and I still don't really have time, but I figured I would do it anyways, given a rare opportunity to use the internet since a priest in my village has loaned me a modem to connect.
Last week marked the end of training and the beginning of my life as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV), which means that I have had a lot of goodbyes to say in the past week. Before I even moved out, Fanny had already left to visit a friend in Uganda. I think she thought my plans were to leave on Monday since she was shocked to hear that she was leaving before me so it felt a bit strange to say goodbye with the roles reversed. I'm also terrible at goodbyes (having pretty much used up all of my capacity to be good at them three months ago when I left Colorado) so we mostly just woke up at 6:00 to look at each other awkwardly for a while only to agree that we would see each other again soon.
We were picked up early on Wednesday morning and, in a giant mess of moving 36 trainees from various homes (with various disastrous road conditions) and loading all of their worldly possessions into one giant moving truck right before a rain storm, we were off to Kigali. I had two days in the city before I was to be dropped off at my site, which meant that I power-walked all over the city to insure I could open my bank account, buy groceries and appliances, and order Chinese food (all of which is a lot more hectic when you don't own a car and you're in a foreign country). On Thursday, we were officially sworn in as volunteers at the US Ambassador's house. It was somewhat surreal, sitting there under a the shade of a canopy on a perfectly trimmed lawn, listening to a few of the volunteers make speeches in English, French, and Kinyarwanda that were being broadcast on national TV and radio...and then following the event with an American-style buffet. It felt nothing like the past couple of months and probably nothing like the next couple of years either.
On Friday, we started moving out at 7:00 am and, after a lot of crying and hugging and saying goodbye to other volunteers (some of which had to wait a couple of days before they would be taken to their sites) and dropping off another volunteer, I was officially home. Minutes before we arrived, the driver and I realized that we had no idea where there was a key to my house. I would have been panicked, but these things have a way of working themselves out when you're in Peace Corps and, sure enough, right when I pulled up to my house, out came Faustin, the boy I had been paying to look over my dog before I moved in. I could not have possibly hoped for a better welcome. I should preface this by restating that Rwandans are not known for their love of dogs. In fact, they are known for fearing and loathing them. But there was Faustin, coming out of my house to inform me that he had just been cooking beans and potatoes for Jellybean and asking for permission to stay awhile so he could finish making her lunch. I don't even take the time to cook for my dog in the states.
Faustin isn't the only Rwandan around here that seems to be counter-culturally infatuated with dogs. Not everyone loves Jellybean as much as he does, but they do seem to accept her as entertaining and harmless, making integrating into the community a lot easier than I thought it would be. It also gives me excuses to take frequent walks in the fields surrounding the village and, let me tell you, this place is beautiful. The soil is incredibly fertile since we are located right next to Volcano National Park and everywhere you look is covered in rich, green, rolling hills.
I'm also conveniently located right next to the church, which my neighbor Father Vincent tells me hosts up to 40,000 people (I'm not sure if that number got lost in translation or not, but the point is is that it's a LOT). This means that if I venture out into my back yard on Sunday morning, I can basically meet the entire surrounding area in the span of half an hour (which is exactly what I did yesterday). It also means that, whenever there is a wedding, I can feel free to invite myself, as per Rwandan culture, which has absolutely no problem with wedding crashers. Living in such close proximity to the church has other perks as well. For example, I have a constant soundtrack of African influenced hymnal music going if I ever need something to listen to, which sounds AWESOME. I also have a built in clock in the form of a giant bell outside of my house that will tell me when it is 6:00, 15:00, or 18:00 in case my clock ever breaks. The other perk is that my neighbors are decently wealthy, education, and excited to work with me. I made a point to go and visit the parish and the convent soon after my arrival and I was gifted with bread, milk tea, pineapple, fanta, and even the modem I am using to type this up right now when I mentioned that I didn't have a way to get in touch with my family. The generosity of the people around me is astounding.
One of my other favorite things about being here is my proximity to Congo, which has always been a serious interest of mine. There is a refugee camp about 15 minutes down the main road from the turn off to my village and I can feel a distinct difference in the culture here. Yesterday, I stumbled upon a group of teenagers dancing in the rain, which poses two contradictions to traditional Rwandan culture since Rwandans don't seem to like to dance nearly as much as Congolese and because they would never be caught dead in rain like the one we had yesterday. Sister Rukundo, one of the nuns I have befriended is also Congolese and spends a good deal of her time going back and forth between Rwanda and Goma, which is where she is fun. She reminds me a lot of Mupemba, our Congolese training director, who completely un-Rwandan in how load and confident and candid he was. She's also a veterinarian, which is a very odd thing to find here, which seems to have very little animal culture.
Of course, there's much more to being a PCV than sitting around and enjoying the benefits. I have a lot to do to lay the groundwork for the next couple of years. Some of it is just maintenance like training Jellybean to go to the bathroom outside as opposed to in the bathroom (which she seems to think is acceptable because she knows I do it) and to get some of the holes in my roof repaired. Most of it, however, is just about being a human being and making friends. Already, the people in my village seem to be super impressed that I can actually speak any Kinyarwanda at all, but I don't want to leave it at that. I'm making a point to get out in the village and start getting to know people beyond simply saying good morning to them. Today that will mean a lot of walking and greeting, but the people of my community have been so receptive and welcoming that I'm honestly looking forward to a three hour walk-and-talk all in Kinyarwanda. Faustin has also offered to help continue tutoring me in Kinyarwanda, but something tells me that I will have plenty of teachers and I've also realized that I actually know enough to hold a casual, if not more philosophical, conversation (thank you community-based training!).
Well, I guess I'm off!
