I want to start a library in Apapeduc High School where I'll be teaching English for the next year.

I am still a Peace Corps Volunteer, but I've relocated from Mauritania to Rwanda, East Africa to teach English. The national government has recently changed the national language of instruction from French to English and you can imagine the chaos that has ensued (imagine the USA decided one year to change all schools from English to Chinese, it'd be crazy!)

Following the 1992-1994 Civil War that culminated in the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi minority, the current Rwandan Government has made ambitious goals in order to modernize, stabilize, create lasting peace, and promote reconciliation within the country. “Vision 2020” includes environmental, hygienic, and educational reforms, including changing the national language of instruction from French to English last year, obligating untrained professors to teach un-exposed students in a language no one knows. Which is where I come in: I am teaching English in Bungwe (say it: BOON-gway), a small hubbub community in the mountains of northern Rwanda.

In my quest to promote English education, a love of reading, exposure to new ideas, and an appreciation of global affairs, I realize I cannot do this alone. Though locals and my fellow teachers support my ideas and are beyond grateful for the giving of my time and skills, they are limited by illiteracy, lack of electricity, means and funds. Parents themselves show intense interest in their children’s education as every Saturday finds them voluntarily carrying bags of sand and rocks—on their heads—from the quarry to the site of new classrooms being built. With the guidance of paid engineers, the community is literally building their classrooms. The government gives some monetary assistance, parents build schools with their own hands, I am offering my skills, and students are willing and (so) excited to learn. But it's not enough.

If you feel that you would like to be part of our team effort to educate, facilitate peace, and promote understanding, do not (yet) give us your money... we need books! The “old school” ink and paper has yet to infiltrate rural Rwanda, has not yet blessed a population with the wealth of knowledge held within. Bungwe has an elementary school and two secondary schools (high schools) serving thousands of students and locals, yet has no library, no books (besides sub-par text books in French). Literally any book in English will contribute to Rwanda’s goal of learning this international language, and my hopes of a profound appreciation of learning.

Thank you for considering Bungwe, the development of young minds, the hope and future of a recovering country.

Feel free to look at my blog: bololam.blogspot.com
or call/skype me: 00 250 78 597-9354
(be patient, the network is horrible!)

Sending with a flat-rate box (available at the post office) is cheapest:
Michele Hernandez, PCV
Apapeduc Secondary School
P.O. Box 72
Byumba, Rwanda
East Africa

Include a list of costs and it can be tax deductable!

Bungwe (say it: BOONG-way), my new home is fabulous so far. It's amazing for me to see what good land does! I just moved into my new house: it has three bedrooms, a living room, two-room outdoor kitchen, out door toilet, and out door shower room. This is the family toilet, which is just like mine: planks of wood, mud/poop brick walls, tree branches supporting zinc a roof, and half sheets of paper for wiping (usually we have printing mistakes or graded papers--my favorite is graded papers as they're much softer:) ) My house is in the same compound as my landlord and his wife (the school secretary) and so far I've been eating with them too. Their food is so good! All fresh, farmed on their land, and cooked by the secretary. We have corn, beans, and peas in the fields down the mountain where others work the land for them; carrots, onions, thyme, and more corn in our front yard, along with one giant avocado tree; and in the BACK yard is more corn, veggies, banana trees (heavy bunches of bananas are ripe like 5 times a year), avocados trees (in season NOW!), tree tomatoes (disgusting), papayas (I've never really had fresh papaya before Rwanda), peas and beans growing up the stalks of corn (that we pick at 11am, prepare at noon, and eat by 1pm!) and the most gorgeous view of the valley thousands of feet below us (The mountainsides are checkered in contoured lines of farms, fields, and growing foods... Uganda is only 3 hilltops over... and this is all in our backyard!)


We also have a cow, her (recently impregnated) daughter, and a 4-month old calf. The cool thing, besides having fresh milk DAILY, is that this cow makes 9 liters of milk A DAY. So every morning a representative from my host mom's milk cooperative comes around and buys the morning milking from her; after the evening milking she uses the milk for us, to sour it (like yogurt!), to make oil (rich, pure oil!), butter (fresh and delicious), lotion (actually just butter but they use it as body lotion...gives you an interesting smell being covered in butter), or cheese (I taught her how to make cheese!) either for us to use or to sell to the neighbors.



Ok, so the common practice is to let your beans and peas grow and dry in your field, pick them, then bring them home in big bundles, set them on the ground and beat them. Since the shells are dried, they fall right off, leavingh the beans/peas behind and easy to collect. With all of the food stuffs we produce, our household is literally self-sufficient! The only things that my host mom has to buy are clothes, shoes, meat, and trasportation!


Oh! Transportation! To get here today, to this computer in Kigali (the capitol), I walked to my neighbor's house, found the bicycle taxis infront, got on the little padded seat behind the rider, and we coasted down the mountain to the next big town. I did have to get off at one point where everyone walks for like 20 steps until we get over a little up-hill portion of the road. Then I hopped on this motorcycle (VERY common way to travel) for 45 minutes to the neareset major city (bumpy dirt roads, hugging the mountainside, with sheer cliffs in some places, towns in others, and random people walking everywhere), walked to the "bus station" (a big empty dirt lot in the middle of town), asked for the bus to Kigali, then sat and waited inside of an 18-seater van filled with 21 people. Countless curves, elbows in my face and sides, and one hour later, we arrived in Kigali. Ahhhh! But only for a second! Everyone immediatly notices the two muzungus (moo-ZOON-goo) aka white people, arriving at this bus stop (another empty dirt/mud lot just outside of town) and we are totally bombarded by taxi drivers, yelling people, and confusion as we try to hold on to our bags, make our way to the bus we KNOW we need, and make sure we stay together (I'm with my friend Charissa).

And voila! We are in our Peace Corps office! Enjoy!

Being in Site

You know when you think of Peace Corps that its like this idea of living in some bush village in the middle of nowhere, with witch doctors, straw huts, half naked people, and bugs for breakfst? But then many are dissapointed when they are are set up in a real cement house with running water, electricity, a cook and cleaner? Well.... I'm somewhere in between: my house is made of mud and cow poop bricks. We have one spigot for the neighborhood (20 liters of water cost 25 francs, about 2 cents). The sun is up at 5:15am and down at 6:30pm, (that's my light!) then we use a gas lamp to eat dinner by. Everything we eat is harvested by my host family: potatoes, onions, tomatos, beans, peas, carrots, avocados, and bananas. That's what we eat. Every day.

So, I'm supposed to have my own little house but its not ready yet. For the next two weeks I'm living with my landlord and his wife (my school's secretary). Their house is on the same compound as my little house, so I get to look at my little house every day, but not move in to it yet! There's a cow (she makes 9 liters of milk a day!) and she has 2 babies; two teenage boys that have been sent by their families to live with and work for my host family; and we have a garden in the front yard.

Ok, Bungwe (say it boong-way) is my village: literally just the top of the mountain crest, running the entire length of it. One road across the center of the crest and a row of houses on either side of it. I'll be teaching English in one of the 2 high schools, giving lessons to the primary school teachers, nurses, and locals. I was thinking about helping them start their library: they're getting it built, but have NO books. (Want to donate some? Just send them over!;) )

Its really cold, so good for making cheese (I made some last week!); we only cook by charcoal and/or wood, so it warms me up; and its GORGEOUS in Bungwe. Fields, trees, all kids of vegetation on the mounain sides, 30 minute walk to Uganda, 9,000 ft elevation, (oh, that reminds me! the other night I watched lightning roll in... to the valley BELOW us! Lightning was at my eye level, we're so high up!) and so far so good.

I don't know what that nun was thinking of!

Being on National News

Swear in went well: Kevin and I spoke in Kinyarwanda, Julie Ann spoke in French, and Katy spoke in English. Katy and I wore umushananas (oo-moo-SHA-nah-nah) for our speeches, they're native clothing that are basically a bunchy skirt worn really high on the waist, and a tank top because the top is this toga-style, tied on one shoulder, rectangular fabric draped over the body.


After our little ceremony, speeches, and thanking everyone for our training, two reporters asked to interview me for the Rwandan news! One was from the newspaper and we were in the next day's news. And the other--the TV crew-- asked me questions, had me speaking English and Kinyarwanda, and asked me some questions about training and such. The next day we were on the TV! I was out with my friend Alphonsine visiting her family when we got some phone calls from people congratulating us on on our Kinyarwanda skills on TV... kind of embarrassing that the whole country has seen/heard me speaking their language after only 10 weeks of lessons, but totally cool too! The family we were with has a TV, but no cable so we couldn't watch the news and see me flapping my gums.




Afterwards, we were in Kigali and I stayed with Charissa to meet the family of the roommate of her friend in Colorado. They lived in America for 21 years, came back to Rwanda, he is like the diretor of an international ONG in Rwanda, and she runs an orphanage. Their three kids live in the US: one in Cali, one in Colorado, and one in Pennsylvania (I think) the Californian is in town and we got to meet him! and... we speak better kinyarwanda than him! Its sooooo weird! Like the whole night, the parents were totally flabbergasted at the Kinyarwanda we speak! It was really funnny to watch her crack up at our language skills and her disbelief that these two white girls can speak her language and she understands it.

When we got back to our training site, we literally stepped off the bus when we were greeted by a lady walking by who said she saw me on TV and congratulated us on our Kinyarwanda skills. Every once in a while, while traveling, or going around town people will say that they saw us on TV.

As if being the "muzungu" (white people) wasn't enough reason to stare at us, now we're TV stars! ;)

Gacaca Courts

---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.