The Visit

This one'll be a long one, so grab a beverage and something to eat; you might be here a while.

2 weeks ago, I posted a blog that I had been working on for some time called 'The Dark Side of Peace Corps.' Since then, I have received numerous comments and emails from friends, family members, Peace Corps Applicants, Nominees, Invitees, Volunteers, and Returned Volunteers (I even got a call from our Peace Corps Country Director…that was fun). In response to these, I wish to thank you for your concern, thoughts, prayers, and wishes in general. Also, it was never my intention to dissuade prospective Volunteers from Service. Peace Corps is a wonderful opportunity that I personally feel should be seized if presented, even though I still maintain it is not for everyone. If you're thinking about applying or in the process, understand that these words were meant to be enlightening and… other positive things.

A few weeks ago, I took a few personal days to visit Chelsea in Burera/Kirambo. Those of you with a map handy will see that Nyaruguru, my district, is almost in Burundi while Burera is almost in Uganda, meaning our two sites are clear across the country from each other (even if it is a rather small country).  Peace Corps has many travel policies, one of which is that I'm not allowed to travel at night. It can complicate things (especially when you have to teach half the day and then try to traverse the entire country), but it makes sense.

My journey to visit Chelsea started at 10am on Friday, just as my class wrapped up. Thursday night I had called one of my neighbors/friends, Hubert, who is a motorcycle-taxi driver, and arranged a ride to Butare, the first checkpoint of my voyage. I told Hubert that I wanted to leave just after my classes at 10. Now, Hubert only speaks Kinyarwanda and French and, despite my repeated attempts to convince him otherwise, thinks that I also speak French. After getting over that obstacle, I conveyed to Hubert that he should be ready to pick me up at my house by 10. What does Hubert do? He rides up to the school, asks where I am, and parks outside my classroom at 9:45. My students thought that was hilarious.

After detouring past my house to switch bags, it was off to Butare. The road between my village and Butare is a little… dichotomous.  For the first 14 kilometers, which takes about 35 minutes, the road is gravel, washed out, and in generally horrible shape. However, the 'road' soon meets up with the Main Road, which is paved, has painted lanes, and speed-limit signs. We follow the tarmac north for about 20 kilometers (20 Minutes) before pulling into Butare.

Once in Butare, my next task involves getting a seat on a 'coach' bus to Kigali, the capital of Rwanda. The nice things about these buses is that everyone gets an actual seat, which should tell you a lot about the lesser bus companies (hint: the smaller bus' name literally translates to 'squeeze'). Having made it to Butare around 11:15, I was able to reserve a seat on the 12pm bus, allowing me time to catch lunch at a local restaurant. The trip from Butare to Kigali takes somewhere from an hour and 45 minutes to 2 and a half hours, depending on how many trucks we get stuck behind. On this particular day, I reached Kigali at about 2:15.

Kigali is sort of the central hub for travel in Rwanda. No matter where I go, I almost have to travel through Kigali. In order to get to Kirambo, which is northwest of Kigali, I have to get off the bus at Nyabugogo instead of downtown and get another ticket for a different bus going to Base/Gakenke. Having gotten a ticket for 3pm, I board the filling bus and wait for it to depart. To my surprise, it actually left about 15 minutes early (which never happens). The road between Kigali and Base has been under construction for nearly 4 months now, so the normal 45 minute drive turns into a little over an hour and results in the woman sitting next to me vomiting into her dress. At Base, I trade the coach bus for another motorcycle ride over dirt roads for about 45 minutes before arriving in Kirambo just before 5pm, having been travelling for 7 hours and spent nearly 13,000 francs (about $22).

Friday night Chelsea and I made fries and guacamole at her house. Yes, I did eat guacamole. Yes, I am aware that it is made out of avocadoes and other vegetables I never would have eaten in America. I've been trying this new thing with Chelsea's help where I don't refuse to eat food I've never tried before. Those of you who knew me and my eating habits in the States would hands down say that I was a very picky eater. But I realized after I came here that I was convinced I didn't like things (like avocadoes) that I had never actually tried before. Having become uncomfortable with this, I asked Chelsea to help me break this habit and expand my tastes a little. Our first attempt at this, to my initial dismay, was the guacamole. I'm still going with I only liked it because Chelsea made it, but I'm willing to accept that it's not bad.

A good portion of my time spent at Chelsea's site (at least during the day) was spent at her school where we would sit and talk with students and eat meals with the teachers. Our time with the students involved Chelsea and Rodrigue, an accounting student, have a rather vivid disagreement over the purpose of Tai Chi, teaching them English slang like 'booty' and 'bromance,' and playing a makeshift game of catch using my hat and our heads. Romalice and I actually got pretty good, to the point where we could consistently land the hat squarely on the others' head from about 25 feet away. Hey, it's harder than you'd think…

Kirambo has a rather large market (which is NOT a 45 minute walk spanning two valleys like Cyahinda's) on Saturdays, so Chelsea and I spent the day picking up food for an epic chili she was going to make and shopping for fabric to have dresses made out of (for her…I assumed that was obvious). Having no conventional stove, the chili had to cook over the charcoal stove (Imbabura) for a little over 3 hours, during which we continued our epic shenanigans with her students. After securing permission from her school's Dean of Studies, we were able to discreetly take a handful of her student back to help us eat the chili (we made waaaaay too much).

Chelsea's site varies from mine in a myriad of ways. For starters, her town, school, and house have power. This is kind of a game-changer as it allows things to be accomplished after 6pm and before 6am (although let's be honest: nothing happens prior to 6am even when we do have electricity). Since my region is devoid of power, I have to go to my school every night at 6:30 just so I can continue to plan my lessons (or do anything that involves more light than a candle or kerosene lantern can give off). In addition, her school is nearly dichotomous to mine. My school administration almost never interferes in my work (my headmaster's idea of ensuring I am productive is to ask me if I am 'ok' once a week), but they are also much more uptight in relation to the students. My students have at most 3 hours a day where they are not studying, and in that time they have to clean out the classrooms and dormitories. However, because Cyahinda is so remote and most of my students' families live in the area, the students are allowed to leave campus without permission (within reason) so long as they actually come back.

Chelsea's school, on the other hand, has a few more luxurious aspects than mine does. Because they have power, there is usually music played when class is not in session and movies on a few nights each week. They also routinely have dances (yeah, even in Africa teenagers have to go through that ordeal). However, perhaps because Kirambo is a bigger town, her students need permission to leave school grounds (which they are not usually granted). I'm going to try to say this next part as fairly as possible. The administration at Chelsea's school really likes to… interfere… with her ability to fulfill her primary responsibilities. Don't get me wrong, it's not the entire staff. Her Dean of Studies, Ferdinand is a relatively laid-back guy. We joined him and John, another teacher from the Teacher Training College in Kirambo, for dinner one night and they wound up helping us kill a liter of scotch (its ok, it was truly terrible tasting as far as scotch goes). But there are a few of her colleagues who do not really understand what a Peace Corps Volunteer is supposed to do, nor are they very receptive to learning.

All in all, the spending the weekend away from my site and relaxing with Chelsea was a lot of fun (not that there was any doubt it would be), and exactly what I needed. Sometimes, no matter how good or bad our work in our village is going, we just need to change things up a bit for a few days. Escaping my school and visiting Chelsea, even though it meant being drawn into another school, was a perfect getaway.

-Don't Forget To Be Awesome
Shawn

The Dark Side of Peace Corps

I'll preface this blog with this: I'm not quite sure how this will turn out or what exactly I'll say. I would like to say, first of all, that this is not meant to be completely negative, pessimistic, or ominous. My intention in writing this is simply to show you a side of Service that few know about and even fewer can understand. Secondly, this is mostly unedited and free-flowing.

I've realized over the past few days that my blogs have been mostly event-oriented with any negative aspects of my Service completely neglected or sugarcoated over. This, coupled with the Peace Corps Policy mandating that Volunteers stay politically neutral and level-headed in any and all communication, has led to what you've been reading for six months now (Yes! It has been that long!).

When you're applying for Peace Corps, they tell you it is the hardest job you'll ever love. At the time, I'm sure none of us doubted it would be difficult, or that we'd love it (most of us, at least).  We knew full well we would leave behind the relative comfort and richness of America for some poverty-stricken corner of the world. What we didn't realize is in just how many ways we were rich.

When we landed in Kigali six months ago, the immediate effects were simple. Sleep deprivation from a 14-hour flight, shock and realization at the physical reality of Rwanda. Physical discomforts. Getting stuck in the arm for some improbable disease. Sitting in an uncomfortable, hand-made wooden chair for another two agonizing hours. That moment of utter disbelieve that the last year of your life has culminated to this, to these trials and tribulations, these extreme extremes. The path that was ahead of us six months ago was, albeit long, an exciting one. One where every corner brought another new surprise, even after you felt like nothing would ever surprise you again after what you've seen. I like to think of this as a 'honeymoon' phase. We show up here, having idolized and idealized what this life would be like. We (I) had these ideas of grandeur, of sleeping on dirt floors, bathing in rivers, being the 'cool' Peace Corps Volunteer who had been there, done that, and lived every awesome experience you could possibly imagine.

The first riches we had stripped away were not these physical comforts we see as 'necessitates' in the States. The first things we lost were the things it would ultimately take us the longest to realize they were riches in the first place. Prior to landing in Rwanda, my training group 'staged' in Philadelphia. Prior to flying off into an African sunset, I stood in the airport in Minneapolis and did what I now understand to be one of the hardest things in my life. I stood there, literally the final boarding call for Philadelphia and the Peace Corps being called throughout the terminal, and had to look my kid sister, my father, my mother, my whole family, essentially my whole world at that moment, in the face and tell them goodbye for 27 months. For them, there was no choice in their reality; they couldn't stop me from going. They had to accept the fact that I was leaving. On the other hand, I made the conscious decision to 'jump,' knowing full well that there would be no one to catch me, that, for the lack of a better metaphor, it was fly or die. They can write this off as 'he's doing what he wants to, he's making the world a better place, he's making a difference, he's doing this for a reason.' I, however, have to live day-to-day with the question of 'what the hell am I doing here?' No amount of soul-searching, and no measure of resolve, can completely stop this from happening.

When you join Peace Corps, you will be willingly subjecting yourself to certain things, 'extremes,' if you will. A lot of these will be physical. You will have insomnia. You will get sick. You will vomit on a routine basis. Chances are, you'll succumb to some disease (or three) that would have potentially been extremely serious if you hadn't paid attention during training, If you weren't given health care that far exceeds that given to your community members. At first, a full-night's sleep will seem impossible (especially if your country has a sizable Muslim community that cherishes 4:30AM prayer calls). This will change over time, but can (and will) revert to deprivation at the drop of a hat. You will sweat. You will cry (in the privacy of your own home, that's not usually kosher in public). You will bleed. You will marvel at the sheer amount of mucus your body can produce in six hours. You will be able to scrap the dirt, dead skin, and God knows what else off your arms with your fingers. Your hair will be absolutely disgusting (bring a hat), and there'll be more dead skin on your scalp than on your arms (if that's possible). And these are just the physical changes that will happen.

The far darker side is the mental effects. For all intents and purposes, you will feel more alone than you have ever been, felt, or dreamt of being in your entire life. Sure, you will be a 'member of your community,' insofar as a 20-something foreigner with a very limited knowledge of their language and even less understanding of their cultural norms can integrate into a community which is physically and emotionally homogeneous.  Let me say again: You Will Cry. You will cry, you will want to curl up in your empty bed and scream for the 'simple' things in life. You will want somebody to hold you, to just wrap their arms around you and pull you into them. There will be days when you feel like you are empty inside, there will be days when you feel like going nuclear and destroying anything you can get your hands on, including your neighbors, students, colleagues, and yourself.

Talking with friends and family in the States helps, too. But only to a certain degree. Some days a call from mom or news from your brother is exactly what you need to persevere for another day. But you'll get this nagging feeling in the back of your mind that, for as much as they can say they understand, and as much as you'd love them to be able to, they cannot. Confiding in your parents, purging your emotions to your old friends, and talking to you loved ones can only get you so far. Sure, you can build up fantastic relationships with your community-members, you can get to know them pretty well, and you can confide in them and become really good friends with them. But in the end, they still cannot fully understand what you're going through because you do not share the same cultural connotations (just like between you and your family).

In the end, the logical place to turn to aid your emotional well-being is your fellow Volunteer. But, just like everything in Peace Corps, it is not that simple. Yes, these people understand what you deal with on a day-to-day basis. They were there during the 11-week trial that was Pre-Service Training. They, too, have chosen to fly or die. However, they are obviously dealing with their own problems, their own nuclear time-bombs about to detonate. And if you put yourself too far into the hands of another Volunteer and if you are unable to stop them from going nuclear, you'll get burned just as bad. When it comes down to it, regardless of how counter-intuitive this is, we all left behind the majority of things that made us happy when we came here. Once here, it becomes so tempting, so easy, to allow your happiness to rely on a single thing, a single person, a single ability. Then, just as you feared, that solitary thing that makes you happy and is what keeps you sane is gone. You will have the darkest, coldest winter in your life, even if you're 3 degrees away from the Equator. You'll learn you're lesson; that a life revolving around a sole object or concept it's a life devoid of any protection, lacking any real emotional security and that yes, for 6 months you might be able to play fast and loose and come out ahead, but the stakes will get too high, the game too rich for your blood. The House always wins in the end.

Peace Corps service is all about these extremes. As dark as it is, perhaps even masochistic on many levels, this is why we signed up, right? We tell ourselves we are here for some noble purpose, that we are not here to find ourselves but to lose ourselves. To change who we are at the very core. Make no mistake; Peace Corps will change you, hopefully for the better. But this is not for the faint of heart or the weak-willed. There will be times when you want nothing more than to quit, to say 'screw all of this' and go home, curl up on that comfortable couch, watch The Daily Show, eat as much food as you can see, and never move ever again. But what we are really here for is to take the punches, not to roll with them. Rolling with the punches assumes you can see them coming and avoid getting hurt. During Service, things will come from the left just as you were so preoccupied by what was to your right, slamming into your head and sending you sprawling. When you finally pick yourself up (and you always will), you'll look to the left just in time to see…nothing. Whatever knocked you down so hard was so minute, so trivial that it begs to be laughed at for even affecting you. Peace Corps service is a time when ants can topple giants. Most days you'll feel like the giant; on top of the world, having it all because you chose to be here. Then, BAM! An ant grabs you by the collar and roughs you up a bit. Then, after the ant's got the better of you a few times, you'll realize the truth. You are not a giant. You are an ant, and just like the ant brought you down, you can bring down your giants, the massive black holes that try to consume your heart and mind, that suck up all the positive energy in your life and spit it out as some unrecognizable, twisted, evil version of the world. I think that metaphor may have gone too far…

It is impossible to compartmentalize your emotions and feelings here. Attempting to bottle them up and put on your 'game face' will only make it worse. Those of us who claim to be expert compartmentalizers will simply be able to hold out longer, but they will eventually crack just like everybody else. At the same time, you cannot risk wearing your emotions on your sleeve. You have to allow the bad things to either roll off your back or limit their expression to the privacy of your own home all while actively seeking the positive things (the reasons we came here in the first place) and allowing them to seep in. Holding back your emotions in a situation like this makes implosion only a matter of time. Above having to cry, you will need to cry, sometimes for no reasons. Some days you will not want to get out of bed (and it's not because you're too comfortable, trust me), some days you will not be able to fall asleep no matter how many drugs you take or how early you have to teach in the morning.

The only constant in this life is that nothing is as it seems it was, is, or should be. If it feels like rain, put on sunscreen. If you feel on top of the world, bring a parachute. If they tell you classes start Monday, don't bother showing up 'till Thursday at the very earliest. Whatever you think will happen will not and no matter how creative your imagination is, you will consistently be baffled at what actually does happen, at the seemingly random occurrences and outcomes that meld together to blow your mind every night. Daily events will seem like something out of a bizarre dream, yet your new reality won't hold a candle to what your subconscious mind can now conjure up while you're sound asleep. Plus, I'm pretty sure our anti-Malaria medication (Mephloquine) is actually just a mild hallucinogenic designed to keep Peace Corps Medical Officers and Psychologists employed.

Peace Corps Service is a rollercoaster. There will be ups. There will be downs. There will be times when you feel like you are in free-fall and you start to question the engineer's decision to make the safety bolts for your restraints out of brass instead of stainless steel. You will feel like you will die. But you won't. The only guarantee is that you will rise up again, only to come rocketing back down until that day comes when you pull into the station and the only thought that pops into you mind is "Wow, what a ride.' Unless, of course, you're bowels weren't as strong as the rest of you. But, hey, Peace Corps for the stories, right?

-Don't Forget To Be Awesome
Shawn

 

PS: Don't take this too seriously. And for the love of God (sorry mom), don't question my physical, mental, or emotional well-being or sanity. What Peace Corps Volunteers world-wide need is to know that the ones they love are behind them all the way, not that you're worried. They need to know you are there for them and that, above all, you care about them.

Again and Again

Two bits of news:

1) Email change: I've been having problems with my email account, so I
have switched to gmail. The new email address is grun0177@gmail.com
2) I have also discovered that I can update Twitter through text
message while here. While I was never really one for Twitter (who
chose the name, anyway?), I think it might be a good way for me to
send out small witticisms and the other random crap that comes into my
head. The username for my new twitter is @LivingInRwanda. I'll try to
post a link if possible. In the future, look for these messages to
also be tied to my facebook account. Hey, I'm an IT volunteer, what
exactly did you expect form me?

For once in the past 6 months, I feel like I'm actually repeating
something I've already done. Let me explain.

October, November, and December were Pre-Service Training (PST).
Although rather monotonous, they were brand new experiences that I
will (hopefully) never have to repeat. Not because it was bad, but
because it would mean Peace Corps Rwanda was shut down. January,
February, and March brought the first term of teaching, by almost
every account a new experience for me. April saw the first school
holiday and In-Service Training (a topic I'll get to in a minute).
Now, the last week of April and May, June, and the first week of July
brings the second semester. Finally, I feel like I've actually done
something before, know what I'm doing, and know what to expect.

The day before IST, the Volunteers in my area scheduled a regional
meet-up. In Rwanda, PCV's are broken up into roughly 7 'regions' based
around our consolidation points in case of a country-wide emergency or
PC evacuation. See, mom (and all other PCV mothers who happen to read
this), they do take our safety seriously. In fact, sometimes too
seriously, I feel (once again, in a minute). Peace Corps Rwanda Senior
Staff (aka Mary, our Director) has been encouraging us to start
monthly or bi-monthly regional meetings, so we took the opportunity to
escape a day early and meet up.

Even though Rwanda is a rather small country, it would still be
difficult to get out of our sites, have a regional meeting, then get
back without breaking at least 3 travel policies. For that reason, we
chose a PCV with a more 'posh' house so we could all spend the night.
Side-note, Peace Corps Rwanda sometimes gets referred to as 'Posh
Corps,' perhaps for good reason. While my site is not posh by most
standards, I have a rather sturdy house (it survived a 4.8 earthquake
a few weeks back) and access to normal, albeit bland, food. However,
there are PCV's that live in houses or complexes with several spare
rooms, flushing 'western-style' porcelain toilets, appliance-full
kitchens, and living room furniture. I can see why the post wouldn't
receive any awards for being 'hardcore' by Peace Corps standards.

You might be asking, "Shawn, what exactly do you guys do at a regional
meet-up? Discuss teaching methods? Trade horror stories? Talk about
how awesome you all are?" Well, we did do some of these things,
although with less griping than you'd think (I hadn't seen most of
these people in 4 months). True, we did have a formal meeting where we
discussed business. After an agonizing 35 minutes of that crap, we
went to the bar. Did you expect anything less? We still talked shop,
although with much less formality and way more enthusiasm (probably
due to the alcohol…is that a bad sign?). Needless to say, we
accomplished a lot more (professionally, at least) in the 35 minute
meeting that we did in the 4 hours at the bar.

In the morning, the handful of us Education (Group 2) Volunteers left
Nyamagabe, where we had our regional meet-up, for beautiful Kibuye on
the shore of Lake Kivu. Once again, even though Rwanda is small, it
still takes the better part of a day for travelling any good distance.
Maybe it's all those hills. Even though Kibuye is sub 100 kilometers
north of Nyamagabe, we had to take a 30 minute bus to Butare, a 2 hour
bus to Gitarama, and then a 2 and a half hour bus to Kibuye. If you
ever visit Rwanda for any reason, renting a private car would be a
VERY wise decision.

Prior to heading for IST, Peace Corps had told us it would be in
Kibuye at the Centre Bethanie. What they didn't tell us was how to get
to the venue, nor that it would take 45 minutes on foot to get there.
Had I known that, I wouldn't have packed so much. Centre Bethanie,
however, was well worth the walk. Situated on a peninsula with great
views of Lake Kivu (see Picasa for sunset photos), Bethanie was our
secluded paradise for a week. Peace Corps provided us lodging,
breakfast, and lunch every day. Dinner was on us in an attempt to
allow us to 'get out and see Kibuye,' although the 25 minute walk into
'town' and the lack of public transport made it rather difficult.

Similar to PST, we had several sessions each day, mostly led by other
PCVs or ourselves. The aim was simply to give us an easy and clear
forum to express concerns and discuss successes/failures at our sites
as well as to update us on some new policies and projects. At night,
well, what do you think happened? 64 20-somethings isolated in
paradise on a beach resort well-stocked with beer. The 6:30am wakeup
was brutal. The night before we left, Peace Corps took us by boat to
Amahoro (peace) Island, a small island just up the shore that is
popular with western tourists. Complete with hammocks, private
cabanas, their own cows, and enough beaches for all of us, we were now
truly on vacation. However, Peace Corps forbade us from swimming due
to one nasty disease or another in the water (oops), so the beaches
were more a slap in the face than anything else.

Now that school has started again, we're back into the swing of
things. Classes are underway, I have homework to correct, and I'm once
again being told that tomorrow will be the day we get power in
Cyahinda. While I doubt that, I did watch some workers string
electrical lines all day yesterday. Its only a matter of time now.

DFTBA
-Shawn

End of Term 1

First off, I apologize for my relatively long absence. Things have been picking up speed here in Rwanda as the first school term comes to an end, and I haven't been able to make it out for internet in some time.

Speaking of school, first term classes officially ended on Thursday, March 17^th.  Students take exams in every subject they have classes in, which under Ordinary Level (grades 7, 8, and 9) is about 13 exams. Advanced Level (grades 10, 11,12) is a little different because they do not all have the same classes. After 9-year basic education, classes take on 'combinations' which are essentially specializations. There are dozens of combinations for A-level, but most schools only offer a few at most. My school offers HEG ( History – Economics – Geography), MEG (Mathematics – Economics – Geography), and MPG (Mathematics – Physics – Geography).

Exams are broken into two categories: out-series and in-series. Almost all classes are on-series and only a few (namely ICT, French, Spiritual Activity, and Creative Performance) are out-series. Exams officially started Friday the 18^th with all out-series exams, including my ICT classes. The grading system for each class in based around marks, like points. Students get 10 marks for each class-hour per week on homework and another 10 for their final exam. This means that my 2-hour ICT classes get 40 marks total while my Mathematics class gets 120 marks.

In-series exams took place the following week and wrapped up yesterday (Friday the 25^th), but we're not done with the semester yet. Next week (the 28th-1^st) is the final week of term and is set aside for grading exams. Holiday officially begins the 2^nd of April, although many teachers (and students) will travel home before then.

The exams themselves are also something of an oddity. Students usually have between 2 and 3 hours per exam, although it rarely takes them that long. As English is the official language of instruction, all exams are also given in English (except, of course, French and Kinyarwanda). This leads to a few relatively minor complications as many students (and, indeed, many of my fellow teachers) have difficulty with proper English grammar and syntax.

NOTE: I hardly claim to be an expert on Kinyarwanda. As such, you should neither 'risk your life' nor 'bet the house' on the following information about Kinyarwanda.

One of the major difficulties my students (and again, the teachers as well) have with written English is punctuation, more specifically with sentence length. However, there is a rather logical explanation for this. While Kinyarwanda has a general syntax, it is almost devoid of punctuation except the occasional period. For example, the have a specific word to add exclamation to a thought, 'pe', and as such rarely use the exclamation point in writing Kinyrwanda. For example:

Go quickly.   =   Genda vuba.

And

Go quickly!   =   Gende vuba pe.

In addition, the conjugation of Kinyrawanda verbs combines all parts into one single word, meaning that simple English sentences can be expressed as a single word in Kinyrawanda. For example:

 I am dancing.   =   Ndabyina (root verb 'kubyina' is 'to dance', remove 'ku-' and add prefix nda- (present continuous single))

And

You all crowd around and stare.    =  Bashungereye (root verb is 'gushengera', remove 'gu-' and add prefix 'ba-' (you all), suffix 'ra-' become 'reye-' (past tense))

Now you can begin to see the complexity of this language, although once you understand how to conjugate a root verb in the different forms, its' easy to pick out the objects of a verb, even if you have no idea what the verb is.

 Because Kinyarwanda verbs are consolidated into one word (sometime the objects of the verb can even be made into infixes), and a Kinyarwanda sentence of 10 words can contain many different thoughts. Here's an example of an English sentence I found on a student's history test:

"The water is very important part to Roman people because everybody need water for cooking, drinking, washing and this water need to be near people so they could have it easy and this is why I say they made city near water.

(I find it ironic that as I typed that, spellchecker didn't flag any part of it as grammatically incorrect)

Besides a few minor subject-verb agreements (a whole other can of worms), this sentence expresses about 19 different ideas at the same time and should probably be streamlined and broken into several distinct sentences based around complete thoughts. You could probably write this sentence in Kinyarwanda using far fewer words (I'm not even going to try to translate it correctly).

One of the major non-linguistic challenges here in Rwanda is the previous (and sometime still on-going) reliance on rot learning (learning my strict memorization). For instance, I can recite the squares of the number up to about 16 just because I used rot learning to memorize them. Past 16, I need to start doing actually calculation in my head to find them. It isn't uncommon for a teacher to simply give a student his notebook and tell them to write the notes on the board and have the other students copy it down. The first few weeks of my math classes, it nearly blew the students' minds that I would actually explain a concept to them and re-explain if they didn't yet understand. They are so used to having to copy everything down (remember: no textbooks/ very very few textbooks) and trying to make sense of it later.

One of the ways this manifests itself in my ICT classes is in the way they answer their exam questions. For instance I defined Information Communication Technology as 'any tool used to send, receive, or process news, data, or information of any kind.' I then proceeded to explain the definition I a way they could readily understand. Even though they were able to paraphrase my definition in class, all 200 of my ICT students answered the exam question using the exact same wording I had given them with almost no deviation in word choice. While they scored well because this is, in fact, the definition I expected, I have no idea if they actually know what ICT means or if they simply fell back on their rot learning and memorized the pattern of words to answer the question.

I think I've mentioned before that Cyahinda, my site, has no power. Well, I now I have proof that this is about to change. Last week a fleet of industrial trucks rolled into my backwater town and started dropping power poles and erecting carriage towers. Still, the actual date the electricity will come depends on who you ask. The local Rwandans say 'tomorrow', my school staff say 'by the end of second term', but my mind just prays 'before December of 2012' (because that's when I'm scheduled to finish my service, not because the Mayans say the world will end, although the actual date I am expected to close service is awfully close to December 21^st…)

Speaking of which, I led my Senior 4 ICT class on a tangent a week or two ago about the solar system. Just as class was ending, it started to downpour outside and, seeing how Rwandans believe they'll melt if they get wet, my students insisted I stay until it lets up. While waiting, I noticed they had a poster on the wall describing the 9 planets and I dutifully informed them that our solar system actually has only 8 planets as Pluto was ruled to not count a few years back due to its irregular orbit, among other things. This, of course, blew their minds. A student then promptly raised his hand and asked, and I quote exactly, "why do all Americans think the world will in in 2012?" After a good laugh and informing them that not all Americans believe this, I gave them a crash course on the mechanics of the cyclical Mayan Calendar and a little insight into why some people believe ion the '2012 doomsday prophecy'.

Semester break starts on April 2^nd and runs until the 25^th. While there won't be any classes, and thus not much structure to my days here at my site, Peace Corps still wishes me to stay here as much as possible. Thankfully, I'll have what Peace Corps calls IST (In-Service Training), a week-long additional training event held during the last week of break. All 65 or so of us in my training group will reunite for this one week in Kibuye (on Lake Kivu to the west). Sure, there will be technical training and workshops to attend, but if Peace Corps thinks that there won't be any shenanigans, they're sadly mistaken.

DFTBA
-Shawn

With school underway (well, mostly), I find myself becoming less and less bored at my site. I teach at a Catholic boarding school in the Nyaruguru District of Rwanda, which is on the Southern Province, just west of Huye/Butare, the self-claimed academic capital of Rwanda. I have to say Huye/Butare because the restructuring that Rwanda underwent around 2006. If you look at a map of Rwanda that is, say, 10 years old (like all the ones on my house), you’ll notice that Rwanda is broken up into 12 Prefectures. During the administrative shuffle, the 12 Prefectures were reassigned into 5 Provinces: North, East, South, West, and Kigali. In addition, each Providence is made up of several Districts, of which there are 30 total in Rwanda.

Butare was originally the seat of the Belgium Colonial Government that ruled over the northern part of the then Ruanda-Urundi Territory (there are a few different variations of this name, but it is essentially present-day Rwanda and Burundi). In the early 1930’s, Butare was renamed Astrida after the Swedish wife of a Belgium King, but eventually reverted back to the original name Butare after Rwanda gained full independence  and the first University (now the National University of Rwanda) was built there in 1963. Butare was both the name of the city proper and of the Prefecture surrounding it, and was thought to be the main contender as Capital of Rwanda after Independence, but Kigali won out because of its more central location. While both the size and population of Kigali had ballooned in the years since, Butare has remained a moderate-sized town, catering mostly to the educational sector. During the Genocide of 1994, many people fled to Butare for safety, and its academic status helped keep Butare relatively safe for several months while the Genocide raged around it. The leaders of Butare, to this day still majorly a product of the University and Butare’s academic background, did everything they could to keep the Genocide from beaching Butare before they were killed and replaced.  During the administrative reshuffling in the early 2000’s, Butare was thought once again to be elevated to higher standards with its proposed selection as the capital of the Southern Province. However, Nyanza (the old Seat of the Kings of Rwanda during colonial and pre-colonial times) was surprisingly chosen instead. Butare City was officially renamed Huye and became the capital of Huye District. Officially, Butare no longer exists as a City or a Prefecture; all references to the City or the District should say Huye.

However, the people of Butare are rather stubborn when it comes to the affairs of their academic oasis. While all buses to Butare from around Rwanda will be labeled as Huye, the operators will still ask you if you are going to Butare, most signs in the City itself still say Butare, and everybody in the City still calls it Butare. Sorry, that was a rather long tangent; the point being Butare/Huye is the closest large city to me.

My school is what’s called a Groupe Scholera (or a Group School) meaning it technically houses Primary and Senior students, although the Primary classrooms are further down the hill by several hundred meters than the Senior classrooms. I teach Mathematics to a Senior 2 class (about the equivalent of 8^th grade) which meets for 6 hours each week. In addition, I teach Senior 4 and Senior 5 Information Communication Technology/Computer Science. Technically, classes started 3 weeks ago (on the 10^th), but the Senior 1 and Senior 4 students are not yet attending school because of the Primary 6 and Senior 3 exams from last year. Because of this, I am only teaching 8 hours per week, with 6 hours at the S2 level and 2 hours at the S5 level until next week, when my S4 classes will start (about a full month after the start of Term).

I live by myself in a house large enough for three people with absolutely no furniture (although I’ve commissioned several pieces from the local carpenter, with whom I’m also arranging a deal where I help him with his labor needs and he teaches me hand-carpentry). It’s difficult to get most things in my village, so I have been slowly accumulating things for my house during my infrequent trips to Butare and Kigali. I do have a local market; unfortunately it is about 2 miles south of my house and only runs on Mondays and Fridays. I had been warned by Emma, a Peace Corps Health Volunteer who has been in my town for nearly 2 years to never go to the market. Last time she did (about 2 years ago) they threw food at her. Rather bored, what did I decide to do? Go to the market. While no-one threw food at me and I did get several things I need for my house, it was a little awkward being the only white person these people have seen in a very long time (probably since Emma went there two years ago).

Because I lack the time, desire, and skills necessary to cook for myself, I have arranged a deal where I eat with a few of the other Rwandan teachers of my school. For 15,000 Frw a month, I get lunch and dinner every day. For those of you keeping track at home, yes that means I eat for less than $1 a day. For those of you not: 15,000 / 30 = 500, 500 Rwandan Francs (Frw) = about $0.87. We usually have rice, beans, potatoes, and a mixture of random vegetables and greens I try not to think about as I swallow. We (there are 9 of us) eat these meals from a communal plate, although we do use utensils. Somedays (usually around market days) we have Pineapple and on Mondays we have meat.

My village has no running water or electricity. All of my water is either collected off the gutter behind my house (pictures on Picasa) or brought from the school, which also collects rain from their roofs. All the electricity I use for my phone (yes, I have a phone, provided by Peace Corps; feel free to call me at +250784103401, but remember that I am currently 8 hours in front of Central Timezone)and my computer either comes from my small solar panel, or from the school, which also uses exclusively solar power. This is sustainable and great, except I’m expected to teach Computer Science with no power. However, they are currently running power into my village (the lines are halfway here and there are small square holes appearing in the ground at the rate of about 3 per week). I have been assured that we will have power by March…or July, depending on who you ask. I’m not holding my breath.

DFTBA
-Shawn

At Site (the long version)

Understanding that the last blog I posted was rather short (ok, really short), I figured I'd elaborate a little.

During the last week of training, we had very few structured activities in order to give us time to prep for our Language Proficiency Interview, which as I've said before we were required to hit intermediate low. My LPI was on Thursday, so I spent most of the week prepping for it. On Wednesday, Jed and I got permission to travel to Kigali so he could sort out some banking things and I could help, aka buy a guitar. Finally, at long last, I had a guitar back in my hands. My brand new guitar, of which there should now be a picture posted of, is a wood-grained blue Janson. Although not of impeccable quality, it is pretty nice and cost me a pretty penny as well. While in Kigali, I was also on the hunt for some Champagne to ring in the New Year correctly. Unfortunately, real champagne in Kigali runs almost as much as my guitar (to the tune of about 95,000 FRW (or about $160), so I settled for 2 bottles of some South Africa import instead.

Thursday was filled with the LPI and my Recommendation Interview with the Senior Training Staff. In my interview, they informed me that I did make Intermediate-Low and that they were recommending me to swear in.

On Friday, we rented out a bar for a celebratory farewell to out LCF's, which devolved and morphed into the New Year's pub crawl. Since we started rather early (around 4 pm), some of us were concerned about our ability to make it all the way to midnight. In fact, I had to take a 2 hour nap around 8:30 in order to stay awake the whole night. At midnight, most of us found ourselves in the bottom half of the Nyanza Heritage Hotel, where there was much dancing and drinking. The night ended well for the soon-to-be volunteers in Nyanza.

The next day, the Farside Houses organized a farewell to our respective resource families at the girl's house. We cooked a mixture of American food and traditional Rwandan food and feed over 50 people, not including the Fence Kids we invited in to help finish it all off. After dinner we took many pictures with our families (once again, up on Picasa) and retired for the night. It was off to Kigali in the morning.

Feeling ambitious in the morning, and with certain people still needing to pack for Kigali, a few of us woke early and made the trek on our backcountry shortcut into Nyanza. The busses whisked us off to the Capital where we first took care of some administrative paperwork (Peace Corps code for any official thing that simply requires you to wait around a lot) and then it was off to downtown for some last minute shopping.

In the morning, we got dressed in our finest threads (and faux-hawk for yours truly) and made our way to the American Ambassador's Residence where our ceremony took place. Speeches were given by soon-to-be volunteers in English, French, and Kinyarwanda. Yes, I did tape Jed's speech. It's difficult to upload an 8 minute video in Africa, but it's going….

After the ceremony we had 'cocktails' (not the drinks) which turned out to be more like lunch given that there was lasagna involved. After leaving the Residence we headed over to the Peace Corps office for the real lunch and to take care of some more paperwork. After a brief time downtown, we loaded the busses back for Nyanza.

The installation process (Peace Corps' name for bringing us to our sites, was set to start on Tuesday, although some Volunteers wouldn't leave until Friday. Kim, the nearest Volunteer to me save the one in my town, and I were picked up by Mup, our Training Manager, early Tuesday morning and installed by midafternoon. It's quite a different feeling going from being constantly engaged in training for nearly 14 hours a day to having absolutely nothing to do for near a week.

The school year was set to start on Monday the 10^th. Of course, I arrive to school on Monday to find only a handful of the 700 some students have arrived. This past week has been almost exclusively retakes of the national exams so students can move up to the next level. I'm told that the teaching schedule will be hammered out and implemented by Monday, although many of the new Senior 4 students won't be here until near February because they just had to take their exams to move from Ordinary Level (S1-3) to Advanced Level (S4-6). I also found out that I will be teaching 1 S2 math class which will meet for 6 hours during a given week, and 2-3 S4 ICT/Computer Science classes, which meet for 2 or 3 hours per week. This means that until the Senior 4 students get here, I will not have much to do save for my 1 math class. No complaints here, I'm sure I can fill my time by making my unused ICT skills useful in the computer lab (although we only have power at night…)

Speaking of power. For the last week I have been watching work crew dig seemingly random holes in the group all over my village. They would dig this hole and drop a tall wooden box, maybe 5 feet tall and 2 feet wide, inside it and then cement it in place. After a few days they would come back and remove the wooden frame, leaving a nice square concrete hole in the ground. I watched them do this about 15 times before I asked Anatole, my counterpart, what they were doing. His response: power lines. Can you believe it? They are digging these holes in the ground so that when the power is ready to be run, all they need to do is drop the towers into the holes and then cement them in. Depending on whom you ask my village will have power either in March, July, or 2012. Not holding my breath.

For now I bid my time in my village. The good news is I'll have plenty of time to lesson plan and grade homework!

 

-DFTBA (Don't Forget To Be Awesome)
Shawn

Alive, Installed, and Well

Well, I made it to my site safe and sound. This one will be short
because I just happened to find an internet cafe a few towns over.

We had News Years, then Swear-In in Kigali that went pretty well. I am
now officially a Peace Corps Volunteer. The Peace Corps installed me
at my school last Tuesday, and I am doing well. The school year
technically started Monday, but I have yet to actaully teach a class.
New photos from the past few weeks are up on Picasa, check 'em out.
For now, I have to catch the jeep back to my school with one fo the
priests so that I can eat dinner with my fellow teachers.

Also, I now have a cell phone and the time to use it. The number is
(+25)0784103401. Feel free to call me if you can find a cheap way to
do it, but remember that I am 8 hours ahead of central time... let's
avoid the 3 am wake-ups, shall we?

Talk to you all in a few more weeks, that is, unless you call me

-Don't Forget To Be Awesome

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