---Could be unsuitable for children---
On our way to the market, Clementine* tells me to stop on our way by some groups of people sitting under trees; turns out it was the Gacaca (ga-cha-cha) courts hearing the accused killers from the 1994 Genocide and the charges against them. 5 Judges sat on a wooden bench, people were crowded around under the tree, and one person was standing, defending his/her case. Clementine translated for me: one woman--dressed in regular, daily clothing--was accused of entering a home with her group of killers and killing an elderly mother laying on a mattress. One of the victim's daughters--who is now about 40 years old--was filing the complaint. After hearing both sides the panel of five judges (ranging in age from 25 to 40) said that since the mother's mattress is missing, the one who killed her must have taken it. The daughter was literally trying to kill the accused with her eyes and body language as the accused woman walked to her spot on the grass.
Then they moved on: a man (who wasn't present, so was represented by his 31 year old daughter) was charged with violent crimes during the War (Genocide): having people take all of their things to his house then back at their home killing them all; or brutally murdering masses of people without any problem. The victim (their representative) first had the accused (well, his representative) move to the other side of the clearing, claiming that she can't be near violent people like these unforgiving types. Then she asked the accused's daughter (treating her as if SHE were the one who committed crimes, not her father) if her father was a killer. She said, "Not that I know of. But since all of these people say he is, maybe he is." Then everyone in the crowd was saying things like, "You were 16 during the war, you should know!" A woman testified that she saw the man killing; the head judge announced that if anyone will testify that this woman is lying, than the charge would be dismissed. No one did, showing the people's agreement that he killed.
Then Clementine told me about her mother's village: all of them were slaughtered. Her grandfather was a very old man with a business; he was a tenacious fighter when the genocidaires (those that committed genocidal acts during the war) attacked the village, and he lead the people in the resistance. Finally the attackers got tired and it was over. THEN they beheaded him, posting his head on a stick on top of his shop mocking, "Lead your people now old man!" But, Clementine claims its ok, that they are so used to stories like this, like these trials. But she'll always remember her grandfather's visits to them (in the Refugee Camp) in Congo as a child, bringing them milk and laughing.
Then she decided these trials were boring, so we left and I heard more about the Gacaca: those that testify against someone usually are killed; its best to keep your mouth shut. Reconciliation is possible, but only when the accused ask for forgiveness, but if they claim nothing is wrong, keep their noses up, or still treat the others like dirt, then they can't reconcile. For some, the trials are like a joke: one may accuse another who will claim, "You accuse me?! While I was cutting off an arm, you were cutting off a leg!" And so friends go to jail together; people used to lie, give false testimony, etc. but now its getting better, more serious.
This morning we also found out where we will be living after training has ended! We found out very late, since there is only 1 week left in our training. I'll be living in the district called Burera, at an elevation of 2,500-3,000 meters (like 8,000-9,800 feet!) where its cold, rainy, and only a 30 minute walk from the Ugandan border. The small town is all on top of a hill, so kind of compacted and close. The high school I'll teach at was founded by parents in 1987 and was changed to public school in 1995. The school secretary said I can live with her and her family in their compound, and I'll have my own little guest house on the side. Water is only a five minute walk, no electricity (the school has solar panels so I can charge my phone), and its about 500 meters from the school. The local health center is run by a Spanish nun whose first response to inquiries about Peace Corps Volunteers in the area was that a volunteer wouldn't last up there. Well, we'll see about that.
*All names are changed to protect people's privacy.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Swearing- In in Kigali
I never seem to realize how quickly time is going by, you know? We're going to swear in as official volunteers (well, those of us that transferred from Mauritania are already volunteers, but we're still going to be there and do it) on the 17th or 18 th of December. Just like in Mauritania we have a speech in the local language and just like in Mauritania, I get to be the speaker! We're having one in Kinyarwanda, English, and French, so I'm doing the kinyarwanda one along with my friend Kevin, and even wearing traditional Rwandan clothing! I'm really happy. I've really enjoyed being here: these 3 months of training have been incredible! My teachers are mostly between 25 and 30 years old, college educated locals, and we have so much fun together! One thing Africa definitely has is laughter, and we laugh SO MUCH! I love it!
Its really cool that Rwanda has made so much progress in the last 15 years socially, politically, and in education: most people speak a bit of English, good French, and many speak fluent Swahili. In any case its great because we can bond in ways that I wasn't able to do in Mauritania for a long time (until I had a good handle on the language) : with the English and French we understand each other, make jokes, and learn so much about each other's cultures. It also helps A TON that I already lived in Africa for so long: I can understand the way they think, see things, do things, their sense of humor, real limitations, social heirarchies, and the conservatism. One of their favorite things to say as a compliment to an American is " You're a REAL Rwandan!" meaning that you really understand the culture and have thoroughly integrated in to their way of life here. Its weird because I hear that pretty often. (Do I sound like a jerk? I don't mean to, just to share the truth of the matter ;)
In America there is this growing sense of "what is my identity" as people loose touch with thier origins, heritage, and traditions as generations of people stay in America. And its totally like that here, too: I'm the muzungu aka white person(moo-zoon-goo), but well adapted; one of the latinas in the group, but not fully (we're not born in South or Central America, but know some of the traditions as our own), even the fact that I've already seved a year in Africa as a PCV and am now demoted (?), well, considered a PCT (peace corps trainee instead of volunteer). Then looking at all the women my age here: married, with children. So weird! but now so are some of my friends in America! And my Grandmas are like " Oh, Michele, when are you going to have babies?!" and its like, "Woah! What's going on here?!!!" Getting older is starting to feel like the world is turning upside and too fast!
It turns out that we transfers are totally considered second year volunteers and can finish our service in December 2010/ January 2011. I'll be home before you know it! I think of you guys all the time and wish I had better internet service to at least connect to you once in a while. As it is we have to go to internet cafes with the slowest dial up connection ever. And its either spend my daily 1,000 amafaranga (about $2) on clothes, special foods, or internet.... sorry guys! (Everyone dresses as fashionably as possible here.. I have to keep up with the lastest fashions that arrive from the European/American good will!) I would say to please call me, because I wold LOVE to talk to you! But... I lost my phone! They cost about 15,000 FR for a cheap Nokia.... so I'll have to save up for a bit and I'll let you know when I buy a replacement ;)
Its really cool that Rwanda has made so much progress in the last 15 years socially, politically, and in education: most people speak a bit of English, good French, and many speak fluent Swahili. In any case its great because we can bond in ways that I wasn't able to do in Mauritania for a long time (until I had a good handle on the language) : with the English and French we understand each other, make jokes, and learn so much about each other's cultures. It also helps A TON that I already lived in Africa for so long: I can understand the way they think, see things, do things, their sense of humor, real limitations, social heirarchies, and the conservatism. One of their favorite things to say as a compliment to an American is " You're a REAL Rwandan!" meaning that you really understand the culture and have thoroughly integrated in to their way of life here. Its weird because I hear that pretty often. (Do I sound like a jerk? I don't mean to, just to share the truth of the matter ;)
In America there is this growing sense of "what is my identity" as people loose touch with thier origins, heritage, and traditions as generations of people stay in America. And its totally like that here, too: I'm the muzungu aka white person(moo-zoon-goo), but well adapted; one of the latinas in the group, but not fully (we're not born in South or Central America, but know some of the traditions as our own), even the fact that I've already seved a year in Africa as a PCV and am now demoted (?), well, considered a PCT (peace corps trainee instead of volunteer). Then looking at all the women my age here: married, with children. So weird! but now so are some of my friends in America! And my Grandmas are like " Oh, Michele, when are you going to have babies?!" and its like, "Woah! What's going on here?!!!" Getting older is starting to feel like the world is turning upside and too fast!
It turns out that we transfers are totally considered second year volunteers and can finish our service in December 2010/ January 2011. I'll be home before you know it! I think of you guys all the time and wish I had better internet service to at least connect to you once in a while. As it is we have to go to internet cafes with the slowest dial up connection ever. And its either spend my daily 1,000 amafaranga (about $2) on clothes, special foods, or internet.... sorry guys! (Everyone dresses as fashionably as possible here.. I have to keep up with the lastest fashions that arrive from the European/American good will!) I would say to please call me, because I wold LOVE to talk to you! But... I lost my phone! They cost about 15,000 FR for a cheap Nokia.... so I'll have to save up for a bit and I'll let you know when I buy a replacement ;)
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Walking down the roads we still hear children yell out "Muzungo!" (white person!) or even a slight variation: "muzutu!" (butt!--vulgar) (say it: moo-zoo-too); the poor farmers are noted by their wax print African clothes, while the educated upper class is noticeable in their western clothing, and I'm just noticed because I'm white :) Going through the market is like being in a movie set: music is coming at you from all sides, people gibbering, bargaining, shouting, calling, or out trying to rip you off. Kids still run away or hide behind parents or siblings to get away from the white people...
Food is good: usually beef, goat, chicken, fish or rabbit. Spaghetti noodles, macaroni, rice, or fried potatoes. Sometimes there's a spinach mush. Tomato sauce to cover it all. Always bananas. Always! Either large, baked plantains to eat with the sauce, or cooked with a peanut, meat, and veggie sauce, or small sweet ones for dessert, but there are always bananas! We all get our own plate to eat from, using forks and knives (my table manners are lacking, I've realized!) and tables with chairs! Every once in a while those of us that transferred here will sit on the ground to eat from a communal bowl... the first time everyone was aghast, even the locals, but now they're getting used to us.
The toilets are both western sitting toilets and squatty potties (a hole in the ground). I won't tell you which one I prefer and use daily ;)
The most common travel option is either by bike or motorcycle: both include passengers sitting behind the driver, just holding on to the seat, not always with a helmet. (Don't worry, as PCVs we're not allowed to take either one since they're like a death wish)
Life is alright! I'm used to Africa now, and not much shocks or startles me. Except for the tight American clothes many wear around here, I'm still not used to seeing so much leg!
Food is good: usually beef, goat, chicken, fish or rabbit. Spaghetti noodles, macaroni, rice, or fried potatoes. Sometimes there's a spinach mush. Tomato sauce to cover it all. Always bananas. Always! Either large, baked plantains to eat with the sauce, or cooked with a peanut, meat, and veggie sauce, or small sweet ones for dessert, but there are always bananas! We all get our own plate to eat from, using forks and knives (my table manners are lacking, I've realized!) and tables with chairs! Every once in a while those of us that transferred here will sit on the ground to eat from a communal bowl... the first time everyone was aghast, even the locals, but now they're getting used to us.
The toilets are both western sitting toilets and squatty potties (a hole in the ground). I won't tell you which one I prefer and use daily ;)
The most common travel option is either by bike or motorcycle: both include passengers sitting behind the driver, just holding on to the seat, not always with a helmet. (Don't worry, as PCVs we're not allowed to take either one since they're like a death wish)
Life is alright! I'm used to Africa now, and not much shocks or startles me. Except for the tight American clothes many wear around here, I'm still not used to seeing so much leg!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Adjusting to Rwanda
Now that we've been in Rwanda for over a week, we've begun language lessons, cultural, safety, and health training, and really getting to know some of the locals. I LOVE spending time with my language teachers and the other staff: 36 trainees and about 15 trainers live in 4 houses around the town of Nyanza (say it: ñan-za). I live in the big house, in a room with 5 other American trainees, and sit for 6 hours a day in a local classroom learning Kinyarwanda (say it: kin-yar-wan-duh). We have lessons on how to be a teacher, specifially a TEFL (Teaching English a a Foreign Langauge) teacher, and are starting traditional Rwandan dance classes today.
Slowly but surely I am comnnecting to this country and the Rwandan people, especially Alphonsine (say it: Al-fon-zeen), one of our coordinators: a 25 year old univerity graduate with beautiufl English. I am so impressed that someone my age (or thereabouts) has over come the staggering odds: by 9th grade about 1/3 of the girls that started in 1st grade are still in school; only 26% of women that enter college actually graduate, and despite traditional norms of marrying young (before age 20), Alphonsine is an educated, independent, and strong young woman. She told me her stategy was to eat fish heads.... her parents told her she'll be smart by eating the brain!
Esperance (say it: es-pear-raw-ns) is also my age and in the a similar sitution to Alphonsine: young, educated, trying to make a difference in her country. She asked me to help her with her English, so we're going to have advanced reading, writing, speaking, and listening... wish me luck, I think our class is growing!
Slowly but surely I am comnnecting to this country and the Rwandan people, especially Alphonsine (say it: Al-fon-zeen), one of our coordinators: a 25 year old univerity graduate with beautiufl English. I am so impressed that someone my age (or thereabouts) has over come the staggering odds: by 9th grade about 1/3 of the girls that started in 1st grade are still in school; only 26% of women that enter college actually graduate, and despite traditional norms of marrying young (before age 20), Alphonsine is an educated, independent, and strong young woman. She told me her stategy was to eat fish heads.... her parents told her she'll be smart by eating the brain!
Esperance (say it: es-pear-raw-ns) is also my age and in the a similar sitution to Alphonsine: young, educated, trying to make a difference in her country. She asked me to help her with her English, so we're going to have advanced reading, writing, speaking, and listening... wish me luck, I think our class is growing!
Getting to Rwanda
Its strangely beautiful to look out from the hilltop, surrounded by birdsong, trees, clouds, and brick buildings. Women walk these hills with babies on back, bundles overhead, and bright clothes. There's quite a mix of western clothes, hair styles, goods, all alongside the natural beauty and local women.
The government also shows western influences: where (apparently) there were wooded hills covered in shacks and shanty towns, there is now a developed roads system, fountains reflecting the dreams for Rwanda's future, parks for passing through, buldings going up, people walking, streets swept clean daily, light showers around 2 pm: life and growth and change burgeoning everywhere you look. All in contrast to the crippling genocide 15 yers ago (1994) that one 'Does not want to forget but hurts to remember' (from the Genocide Memorial in Kigali, the capitol). From what I'm told and all I've seen, everyone and everything is in an effort to reconciliate, even Nature doing her part to promote life.
People are welcoming, joyful, and eager, ready to teach, learn, work, and play. They greet with three alternating kisses on each cheek, men hold hands, women greet each other in the market, kids go in pairs or groups dressed in matching uniforms on their way to school. All people keep a short-cropped hair do, a few have braids or fake hair, and some use head wraps.
Every once in a while you may see an elderly person, but 60% of the population is under 18 years old. Going to the Genocide Memorial today explains how a country can be so young: a civil war and genocide wreaks havoc on the adult population as children are spared. Though here that wasn't always the case: to exterminate Tutsis and all of their line, even chidlren and babies were targeted. Fortunately the current government recognizes the youth as the future and hope for a peaceful reconcilitaion, thus pouring education, peace, and acceptance on the school children.
The government also shows western influences: where (apparently) there were wooded hills covered in shacks and shanty towns, there is now a developed roads system, fountains reflecting the dreams for Rwanda's future, parks for passing through, buldings going up, people walking, streets swept clean daily, light showers around 2 pm: life and growth and change burgeoning everywhere you look. All in contrast to the crippling genocide 15 yers ago (1994) that one 'Does not want to forget but hurts to remember' (from the Genocide Memorial in Kigali, the capitol). From what I'm told and all I've seen, everyone and everything is in an effort to reconciliate, even Nature doing her part to promote life.
People are welcoming, joyful, and eager, ready to teach, learn, work, and play. They greet with three alternating kisses on each cheek, men hold hands, women greet each other in the market, kids go in pairs or groups dressed in matching uniforms on their way to school. All people keep a short-cropped hair do, a few have braids or fake hair, and some use head wraps.
Every once in a while you may see an elderly person, but 60% of the population is under 18 years old. Going to the Genocide Memorial today explains how a country can be so young: a civil war and genocide wreaks havoc on the adult population as children are spared. Though here that wasn't always the case: to exterminate Tutsis and all of their line, even chidlren and babies were targeted. Fortunately the current government recognizes the youth as the future and hope for a peaceful reconcilitaion, thus pouring education, peace, and acceptance on the school children.
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