March Madness

Hey all,

Long time no write. Whew, things have been picking up around here!

Following a couple of weeks of what felt like non-stop grammar I decided to change it up a bit and let the students teach me. After their quiz (which I have to say, made me more nervous than them) the girls looked as though they would have gladly run through fire than take another quiz given by the mean foreign English teacher. In response I told them to stand up and stretch, jump around and shake off all the negativity in the post-test atmosphere. And that is when inspiration hit: as they begun to clap and sing, a certain rhythm took over which automatically called for more singing and dancing. Their homework was basically to prepare for a talent show the next week.

It worked. For the past several lessons, I have been entertained, serenaded and pleasantly surprised by their wonderful abilities to sing and dance. Most of all, I am amazed at their graceful willingness to present in front of their peers. I remember back in my day when nobody wanted to leave their seat to even give a speech and here are students jumping up to perform modern hip hop songs in English, pop tunes in Kinyarwanda and traditional gospel songs they learn in church. And even more exciting, for me, is that I’m starting to learn their names. On the first day of school I instructed them to write their names on a piece of paper which I then explained was their “nametag.” Little did I realize at the time that many of them share the same name—there is an abundance of Valentines, Claudines, Esperances, and Yvettes and they are multiplied by 39. That is the average number of girls I see seated in each one of the 8 classrooms I visit every week! Granted, it’s a 3 day week but trying to memorize or even remember 300+ girls’ names is difficult. Not as difficult as trying to recall the bare minimum Kinyarwanda that I used to know before I entered an all English speaking environment!! Whew, I can barely introduce myself anymore!

The other day I was asked the difference between to like and to love. Since that can be a pretty difficult concept to explain to a native speaker it means that it is double the challenge to clarify to someone whose language only has one expression to encompass both emotions: ndagukunda. In my most diplomatic, educator’s voice I tried to tell the inquisitive student that love is a much stronger emotion than like but when I only received a blank look I told her that she could use both terms but please, please refrain from telling a complete stranger that you love him/her. This has happened on multiple occasions since arriving in Rwanda—sitting outside conversing with a fellow volunteer when a group of people walks by, sees the funky white people and decides to impress them by confessing their love in English or the woman at the post office, sending you off with her endearments or even from your students, scripted into a rap song!! Talk about developing an ego! And in addition to professing their love for me, my students applaud my intelligence when I walk into the classroom. Well, they tell me, “you are smart,” which loosely translated means that I look smart, as in the outfit I have one at the moment. But I joke back with them by agreeing, “why yes, I am intelligent, thank you.”

Well, it’s one step at a time. And as I said, I’ve become somewhat busy around here. One minute I’m wondering what to do besides twiddle my thumbs and the next I find myself utterly exhausted and wondering when I will ever have a free moment. It’s as if there was article in the town newspaper that announced my presence and everybody snatched it up. I guess that’s how a small, tight-knit village works. There are multiple English clubs to help facilitate, in addition to helping out at the school garden and tutoring the priests every Sunday evening! Then there may be other projects in the pipeline that I have also been asked to be a part of. Naturally, there has been plenty of dancing too. A couple of weeks ago I ventured up to visit the local troupe of children who sing and dance every Sunday morning which was delightful. They are called “Abisunganye” which means we share our culture together. After they performed their traditional song and dance I contributed some of my own culture in the form of “Walking on broken glass” by Annie Lennox and Ne Yo’s “Independent Woman” for them!! Haha, needless to say, word got out that the crazy white girl was dancing around with the kids. I definitely made the village gossip that day! Along with being asked back to make a guest appearance in the annual Easter concert!!

There is one bit of sad news. A couple of weeks ago Mamie (the mother superior figure of the nuns) left for another convent. I found it extremely sad that she was to leave us but hopefully we will see each other sometime in the near future. Even though there was a slight language barrier between us she was my bud and we had some good times together. Here at C.I.C Muramba there is a wide variety of sports to choose from. The girls can be seen every afternoon playing one game or another all around the compound. So far I’ve managed to scout out at least a handful of said athletic activities and last week I finally discovered where the basketball court is located. After some protest and excuses I eventually jumped in with the girls, some of whom I teach, and played basketball for the first time in years! (aside from a brief stint back in training where some other volunteers and I played and lost against the neighborhood youth) It felt absolutely wonderful and I think the onlookers were entertained as well. At one point I took a fall and scraped my knee on the court made of concrete but bounced back up to give my audience a graceful bow!

Lately it has not been raining much which I shockingly find upsetting. I was beginning to grow accustomed to the daily precipitation and now I miss it. However, when it does have occasion to rain the ground inevitably turns to slippery mud, hence all of the strategically placed rocks in the middle of the road to assist with traction. Unfortunately, both the mud and rocks do not work well in concert for someone on a bicycle. Having recently had my bike repaired after the one tire was punctured by aforementioned rocks, I wanted to get back out on the trail and try my luck, again. This time I came back with both tires in tack but the bright white sports shirt I had donned was now a nicely decorated piece of splatter paint artwork, a reminder that it is in fact, still the rainy season.

Now that is nearing the end of the first term of the school year it is what we in the education business like to term “exam time.” As such is the case I must be off to go prepare the best exam ever!! Wish me luck!



And I don’t know if ya’ll got the message but I have two mail boxes now, and both are at least 2.5 hours from me so if you happen to send me something please let me know to which location! The first is good for letters and the second is better for packages. I will eventually make my way to retrieve my mail.

Avery Miles
C.I.C Muramba
P.O Box 85
Gisenyi, Rwanda

Or the same one as before:
Avery Miles
B.P 5657
Kigali, Rwanda

You gotta pay to be my husband

Howdie everybody!

On one of my recent travels I encountered a very stingy yet persistent ticket seller. At first, he charged me what seemed to be an outrageous amount, in comparison to previous trips (I later learned that it was the weekend price), and then he proceeded to skimp me on my change back. But it got better when he asked if I was single and when I truthfully if not foolishly replied that I was, he had the nerve to ask if he could be my husband!! In no uncertain terms, I turned him down. But it gave me a good idea for a blog title.

Last week I ventured out into the community a couple of times just to see if anything had changed since school had started. It’s still the same mountain village. The first time I went with some of my students who were practicing football (this is soccer everywhere in the world except the U.S, btw) out in the main field of town. You come upon an extremely picturesque view of the opposing mountain ridge and wonder how the kids can play without being distracted by the awesome backdrop to their game. But then I remember that they were born here and experience this beauty every day. What’s more interesting to look at is me- I’m the thing they like to stare at. So around we jogged, gathering more and more neighborhood children as the warm-up session continued. I thought I might trip over some of them or tag them by accident. Even worse, I thought the coach would come over and ask me to leave because I was causing such a major distraction!! Then I discovered that a) nobody really cared because b) the kids were having just as much fun mimicking the other girls too. We never got around to playing an actual game which was just as well because I was sorely realizing how out of shape I was.


On my second outing I only made it as far as the volleyball court located within the confines of the compound. Whew, that was a workout to follow the one I had had the day before!! The coaches instructed the girls to jog a few laps around the perimeter of the court and I promptly followed along. Not too bad, until the first girl in line hunched down into a squat and I knew I was in trouble. My thighs were already talking to me from the action they had seen out on the football field!! But I dutifully stayed the course. I mean, I couldn’t lose face in front of my very own students, some of whom were observing the practice as well as participating. After struggling through a couple of warm-up stunts, we started doing volleys and what I like to technically dub as the “serious practice stuff.” So I decided to gracefully step down and went over to some of the onlookers to chat with them. It was great watching though! The girls are pretty good. And I got to catch the stray balls when they came my way, totally earning some respect out there.


Finally, by the third day I satisfied myself by simply watching the handball game that was happening right outside of the compound. The bike ride I took early that morning had already sufficed as my daily “sport.” For those of you who may not know, as I did not before last week, handball is a blend of basketball and water polo. The players jump a few steps before either passing to a teammate or choosing to pummel the ball into the wooden goal post. Unfortunately for whoever is playing the goalie, there is no netting to said goal post which doubles the exercise in order to run after the ball. There is no fencing or walls either… so the goalie pretty much loses every time a shot happens. The guys were practicing when I walked up to observe. When they asked me to join in the game I looked down and pointed to my jeans and sandals, trying to explain that I was not prepared to play. However, my non-verbal excuse was in no way a viable reason to stand on the sidelines. They beckoned me to join but I insisted that the next time I came by I would be ready to jump in. Again, I found myself enjoying the scenic view laid out behind the sandy court equally as much as the activity in front of me. Seriously, it is exceptionally difficult to ignore the amazing vistas that award the eye here. Before I left the scene, one of the other bystanders asked me about my origins and my family. I gave him the ultra-fascinating details that I’m from the U.S and an only child, etc. Some of this was said in French since I have adopted this obnoxious (I can only assume it’s annoying for everybody else) habit of incorporating three languages into my conversation, English, French and Kinyarwanda. Anyhow, I told him that I was a l’enfant unique (means only child in French, I think) and he commented, “oh, like Jesus.” My reaction looked something like this :-/


Right, onto more pertinent details of my life: school finally started and so far so good. I’ve taken a different route as the one I chose in Model School and that is to actually teach some practical English points. But as any language teacher probably knows and hopefully acknowledges, grammar is such a crutch and a boring one at that. As that is the case, next week I’m setting up for some real fun. There will be colors and action and movement. No more board work. Ugh. How dull. Oh, but where will I find the time? Hmm, I guess I should use my 4 day weekend to prepare! Yup, when I sat down on the first day of school to find out my schedule I was astonished to see that both Thursday and Friday are blank in my timetable!! However, there is plenty to do during the days that I do teach. I am very excited to get these girls prepared for University where they will undoubtedly need to know near-to-fluent English. They already know quite a lot. The main problem seems to be my diction, or rather my accent. I don’t get it though because I’m speaking normal…even slow for me. But they are accustomed to a completely different angle of speaking.

After reading some of my students’ compositions describing their lives and their families I have come to understand that this is very much a farming culture. You may say, “well, duh, Avery,” but compared to the industrial nature of the U.S, Rwanda is almost entirely based around agriculture. So today I got a little taste of that lifestyle. Over at another secondary school in town I visited the man who has taken the land surrounding the school and made it into a wonderful, sprawling garden. He graciously showed me how to plant carrots and onions and then generously gave me some plots of land to cultivate on my own. Needless to say, I’m super psyched to see the progress, to watch my little seedlings grow into something edible!! In addition, he grows my absolute favorite food and probably the most essential part of my diet: garlic!! So basically I’m going to be rolling in garlic and keeping the vampires at bay for the next 2 years! It really is a great experience to get out and do some hands-on work though. As teaching in class only comprises half the week I think I know where I will be spending the other half!!

Other headlines: it is officially the rainy season. When the sky becomes a grayish blue, with a consistency similar to curdled milk, you know to take cover. Or rather, do as the Rwandans do and rest your head on your forearms, surrendering to the almost deafening tune of water pelting against a tin roof. Sometimes I think that it could be a hurricane outside due to that sound. And on that note, I think I will follow suit and go take a rest.


Au revoir, mon Cheries!!

North by Northwest

Habaye iki? What's happening?

As there has been ample amount of time to do… not much of anything except integrate, which is a pretty broad task if you ask me, I have found myself in the kitchen much of late. In the last couple of weeks the sisters and cooks have had the pleasure or sometimes pain of tasting U.S-style pizza, banana bread, chocolate cake, Spanish tortilla, carrot cake (with two mashed bananas it tasted less like carrot and more like its supplementing ingredient), mashed potatoes which were wonderfully garlicy but after presenting it to my awaiting audience I was informed that my hand had been too heavy on the garlic salt!!! Whoops, but more for me!! Then there was some experimenting with homemade salad dressing, hummus and guacamole. The nearby secondary school has been cultivating 8 hectares/19 acres of land and to my utter delight there is garlic among the many wonderful plants and herbs.


Now, cooking Rwandan is very different than what I am accustomed to in the states. There are no microwaves!!! Haha, I can actually work a stove back home but here they are designed primarily to use wood and fire. Hmmm, ok, not so bad, even when using my little kerosene-powered stove I am able to accomplish some things, see abovementioned culinary treats. But here comes the ikibazo (problem): I have never been and probably will never be on good terms with fire. We just don’t seem to get along too well. But hopefully we will be able to reconcile our differences soon because I think I have stumbled upon something great where I can contribute and be productive and also enjoy the company of the kitchen staff who are very gracious and helpful (especially in regards to said fire problem).

One night I found myself alone in the big kitchen (there are at least 4 that I can count on the compound!) when I realized how medieval the situation had become. There, standing before the wood-burning stove, lightning flashing outside, I could see the fruits of my labor in the faint glow of the oil lamp. And that’s when the singing began. Slowly the sisters’ voices came flowing through this scene and I nearly jumped out of my skin!!! Just a bit eery.

Teachers and students have started arriving and so far I know that I will be teaching English for 16 hours a week. Whew, what to start with? The days of the week, greetings, or maybe I’ll have the girls get up and teach me a thing or two. It would seem that many people already speak English expertly, especially when compared to my poor Kinyarwanda.

I must be fitting into the culture of the convent, for during the very first week at site (I can’t believe I forgot to write about this earlier!!) Father Kolombe said that I looked likeMary!! I was floored, shocked, and completely dumbfounded as to what my reaction should have been. Gratitude? Modesty? Anxiety?


Now, onto something exciting—I finally went to Lake Kivu!! Last week, while on a jaunt down south (which took about 2 days, more on that later..) to visit some PC colleagues, I was able to see how the other half lives. Other half of the country that is. Down in the southwest they do things a lot differently than up here in the northwest, namely they use matatus (small minivans, also referred to as taxis) instead of motorcycles “motos” to travel, and where I can see mountains for miles, their view is of water, a seemingly endless body of blue and sometimes green fluid beauty. Unfortunately I did not jump in. I know, I know, walk 2 hours up and down rocky paths only to look at water? But the fear of shisto (a microorganism that gets into your system and is difficult to remove or remedy) prevented me from taking the plunge.

In order to make it down that way from my site one must jump on a moto or with luck, grab the huge mint green express bus that passes by my town once a day. Then, after 40 minutes you have arrived at the bus station, a plot of space along the side of the road where some vehicles of mass transportation converge. After bumbling your way into one, prepare for some major curves, dips and turns. Whew, what a trip. Oh but wait, that’s only to Kigali, and you’ve only been squeezed against the hips of the woman next to you for a mere 2 hours. Once in the capital you search for a private bus that will carry you the next 6 hours of your life to the desired destination. Or so you had hoped for….along the way you must be conscious in order to yell at the driver to stop and let you out. Then you have made it.


Ok, so here’s how a colleague of mine and I decided to take that long but reasonable journey and make it into an adventure. We chose the path less chosen…First, from her site in a matatu to Gitarama where we managed to procure tickets for a bus to Kibuye. So far so good, we thought, we’re genius because we’re bypassing the necessity to drive all the way to the center of the country only to turn around and drive right back out. Right….we changed our minds rapidly upon arrival in Kibuye where we were pleasantly informed that there are no buses to Kamembe (the ultimate destination) on that day. One will come tomorrow early in the morning. Murg (sound of supreme frustration). Tired and already travel-worn from the most recent bus trip, (my poor friend witnessed a fellow passenger throw up in the seat in front of her..not an uncommon occurrence when traveling in Rwanda) we decided to place a call for help. As luck would have it, we were able to locate the house of two of our PC colleagues where we encountered many more of our colleagues. What a serendipitous happenstance! There was a regular ‘ol get-together of several volunteers at the house which is uncannily reminiscent of a beach bungalow.

The next day we were rattled awake by the announcement that the next bus out of town was soon to arrive and that we needed to get our butts into gear in order to catch it. Scurrying around in a fog, induced by no sleep the night before as a result of the overly abundant mosquitoes and no bug-net, we raced out the door down to the bus stop. And waited for an hour before it arrived but when it did I thought the angels had descended from heaven. I was wrong. For the next 6 hours, my friend and I endured what could safely be described as one of the worst roads in the entire history of roads. I am not kidding. It has been validated by others. Anyway, after surviving the rocky rolling movements of the monstrous vehicle, crammed to the gills with people and their belongings (I was really banking on seeing someone carrying a kitchen sink with them), and not losing my meager breakfast at the sight of the looming cliff, we arrived at our friend’s site. Or at the edge of her town where she told us to stop. Then we walked for 45 minutes. But at that point, I would have run a marathon if it meant no more buses for the next 24 hours!

That’s all for now. Be assured that there are many more adventures down the road (hehe, I tickle myself).

Where there are bananas there are no secrets...

If anybody has an idea what this saying could possibly mean let me know. It was told to us at one of the sessions during training and upon arriving at my site, where there are over a million such trees, I've begun to wonder if this could have some profound implication...

Anyway, I've been at site three weeks now and it is great. So far I’ve explored a fair amount of the area and it is simply breathtaking. Sometimes I have to remind myself that this is still Africa because one moment the hills are shrouded in mist and it appears to be a tropical rainforest, and at other times I’ll be walking through a forest that feels surprisingly similar to one out in California! It is extremely beautiful. And very hilly—just the other day, after trekking through some bean fields and subsequently losing the trail, I ended up climbing up a 90 degree vertical staircase! Some boy who had decided to follow me, commented on how very tired the Msungu was. He was right, everywhere I go I end up breathing as if I was climbing Mt. Everest!! Taking my camera on these adventures is somewhat tricky though, since the neighborhood children all want to have their picture taken and they love to follow me around! Hopefully these pictures can illustrate my inadequate description.

Two weeks ago a group of Engineers without Borders (EWB) flew in from Wisconsin. Over the past few years they have been working on a couple of different projects, including a pipeline and helping the community cultivate plots of land in order to grow and sell certain crops. Last Sunday we were all introduced to the community at the local church. We attended the second mass which, because it was the first Sunday after the New Year, took 3 and half hours!! But most of the town found out who we are which is good.

It has not only been pleasant but extremely advantageous having EWB around. Due to their well-established presence in the community I have been able to meet new contacts and as a result become a bit more involved in some programs taking place. This past week I helped at a local English club that is an essential part to a larger goal in developing the capacity and knowledge of the people here. Hopefully I will be able to help out at a local school garden that has been recently created as part of a widespread initiative to address the needs of the community, one of which is malnutrition in children. That, or maybe I could start weeding the garden right outside my window at the convent.

Did I not mention the convent yet? I reside in one of the guestrooms that the sisters usually rent to guests. That is where the engineers were staying while they were here. Every day I usually take all my meals with the sisters who are very kind and caring-- it reminds me of living with a host family. At the moment everything is quite comfortable and quiet (well, except for the very irate cow that wakes me up every morning at 6 am!!) but I think the situation will change once the students and teachers arrive at the end of the month for the start of school.

I am beginning to see the impact that my role as an English teacher can and will have on the people in this area. Learning English will not only allow them to come together but also help them gain a better foothold among the rest of the East African Community. Development is happening everywhere around Rwanda. I mentioned in my last blog that the main road has construction going on 24/7 and sometime within the next year there will be electricity in the town!!



Yesterday I attended my first Rwandan wedding! Or should I say, the dowry ceremony. This is the initial scene where the two families of the bride and groom come together and officially meet. There were two rows set up facing each other, in which the elder members of the families sit and chat. There is a Master of Ceremonies figure who facilitates the conversation between the two parties negotiating the marriage.These are usually the grand males of the family. Although I barely understood any of what went on I did gather that there was much merriment and mirth among the crowd. Ripples of chuckles skirted the fringes of the gathering as the the two granddaddies "bargained" the price of the dowry. All the while there sat a rock in the center; this is apparently used to grind sorghum beans into beer!! A wooden statue of a man holding a pot of the traditional brew stands to the front of the stone, enjoying his beverage.

A Swearing Good Time

Hi Folks!

As the title of this blog suggests, my Peace Corps colleagues and I were officially sworn in last Saturday afternoon at the U.S ambassador's house in Kigali. The ceremony was held outside on the lawn, under the cover of a large tent. It was a regular old garden party; there was an array of buffet-style of food, socializing with former PC volunteers who came to welcome us as the newest members of the Corps, being treated to traditional dancing by a local troupe of young dancers, and of course, awesome cake!!

Afterward, we all dispersed into the city and boy, was it system overload. I have not been back to the capital city in 10 weeks so I was not prepared for the culture shock I experienced upon returning to the bustling metropolis. Cars zooming past, up and down the hills, nearly clipping me on the heels, supermarkets and shopping malls, ice-cream, pizza, Chinese, Indian, construction work on soon-to-be skyscrapers, and most disorienting of all was seeing other Msungus whom I didn't recognize!! However, despite the fish-out-of-pond feeling, I had a fabulous time. After having spent 2 and half months in a relatively small town I definitely learned to appreciate what Kigali has to offer!! If anyone is interested in visiting me (and you really should think about it ;) I highly suggest staying in this great city.

The following day I traveled out to my permanent site which I finally found out about last week. When looking at a map of Rwanda the distance appears to be only a couple short, stumpy kilometers from Kigali but in reality, the actual time it takes to arrive in my small, isolated mountain town is somewhat different than anticipated. One hour bus ride to Gitarama, then another hour to Ngororero, the district in which I live, and finally another 30-45 minute motorcycle ride out to a very picturesque scene. That last portion of the trip was only slightly terrifying when huge dump trucks veered out of nowhere with their loads of sand, dirt and whatever else they're using to build the road. When I arrived at my future work site, a Catholic school, the head sister asked how I liked the roads, to which I responded by making an expression of disbelief over the uneasy state of the windy path I had just taken. She nodded, explaining in her nearly flawless English, that it used to be a lot worse...

That only serves to illustrate the speedy pace at which Rwanda is working to develop itself. I'm looking forward to witnessing the progress that both my school and the surrounding region will make in the coming months.

Internet is intermittent and slow but it does exist up in the mountains since I bought an internet modem, however there is no electricity at my site so blog entries will be less frequent in the coming months. Hope you all enjoy the pics; the first is of Mupemba, our Training Director and then the whole group of Education Volunteers. The last couple of shots are of my site- the first one is a view from outside of my little apartment, the last is of the Director of Discipline and Sister Victoire who is on the right--she's great :) Don't worry there will be more to follow as my mountain town is tremendously beautiful and I want nothing more than to show it off!!

Over and out!

PS and this is a little x-mas cheer from Kigali

It's Menshi Time!!

Bite sha!?!

Hello all, just got back from a run where I was joined by several neighborhood children. Although Model school is over and we have been here a considerable amount of time, the Msungus are still a bit of a novelty, apparently. Anyway, I enjoyed the challenge that the kids presented; at one point I even raced them down the road. I bet I looked like I was about to collapse but I have to say that they were pretty impressive running alongside me, barefoot!


A couple of weeks ago I went to visit a current Peace Corps volunteer over in the western region of the country. It was amazingly beautiful and when we went on a hike I took a billion pictures. I just can’t seem to get enough of the landscape of this country!! En route, my friend, Chris and I witnessed the Wooden Bike Classic race--see pics above. Within our group there are about 20 former volunteers who served in Mauritania so it is completely different setting for them. How vast and diverse Africa can be!!! Personally, I find it a treat to have them on board with the rest of us, “newbies” since we can learn to appreciate all that Rwanda has to offer while also learning the ins and outs of Peace Corps policies and procedures from veteran volunteers.


Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving the traditional way, well, as traditional as possible using a hole dug in the ground and outdoor fire pits. In other words, there was turkey for those who eat meat, one of which the U.S ambassador brought as a gift. Aside from that there was macaroni and cheese, some kind of sacatash-like guacamole mixture, (so good! we barely ever eat corn here so that was a tremendous surprise to find corn among our

food choices!!) green bean casserole, stuffing, a quiche for the veggies, and tons of dessert options such as mango pie, pineapple pie, crepes with chocolate sauce, banana bread, and pumpkin pie which the ambassador also brought, and was absolutely heavenly. I helped make mashed potatoes and no-bake cookies which turned out really well. The potatoes could have used more salt but I’ve never had to cook for 40 people before so that was a learning experience.


A few days after Thanksgiving some of the other trainees celebrated a Muslim holiday which revolves around the slaughtering of a goat (or two in this case). Needless to say, I did not partake in the festivities. I was told that the significance behind the celebration evolved from a biblical story about God swooping down to save a son from being murdered by his father.

Excellent bit of news!! There is a cheese factory here and we have finally sniffed it out!! We tracked it down the other day and managed to bring together the ingredients necessary to make grilled cheese which is exactly what some of us did the other night and it was delicious. If it seems as if all I can write about is food it may be because that’s all I can think about! We tend to torture ourselves by discussing which culinary delights we miss the most from home. Taco bell is a prominent character, along with anything cheese-related. Me, I miss potato chips, ice cream, and for some reason, lately I’ve been craving some authentic Chinese take-out!!


I know that I wrote at length about the difficulties of learning Kinyarwanda in the last blog but after having finished Model school we have been tossed back into language class every day so naturally it’s on my mind. Never before have I so frequently been on the verge of tears, granted it’s usually combined with laughter but it’s a close call as to whether those are tears of joy of hysteria. However, whenever I visit my host family they praise my language skills so I must be doing something right. I guess we’ll see when the final exam rolls takes place next week!!


My host family is great, I really enjoy spending time with them. Now that the kids have been back awhile it is slightly easier to hold a conversation with them since they know near-to-perfect English. Last week I was able to spend some quality time with them while I got my hair done. Correction: while my head was pulled and tugged at from all possible angles, a small portion of the community came over to view the crazy Msungu getting menshi (braids) in her hair!! At one point, my host mom said something which made everybody giggle. It turns out there is a proverb in Kinyarwanda that says (loosely translated) “a girl will go a long way for what she wants.” Evidently the veins were popping in my head as the hairdresser yanked at my hair. But my host mom was right because after 8+ hours of sitting on the living room floor it definitely paid off and I love my menshi!! They are more like kinky twists than braids which makes them even greater in my book. I don’t know

how but they magically seem to stay twisted within my own hair!! The overall reception to them has been very pleasing too, from the women who work at the internet café to local shopkeepers and random strangers on the street as I pass by: “your hair are wonderful!” yay!!


Next week is the last week before we are officially sworn in to become Peace Corps volunteers. We still have not been told the location of our permanent sites but probably we will be informed of that vital information by Monday or Tuesday of next week.

Hope all is well back in the states!!

Every (oh whoops, guess I’m just used to seeing my name spelled like that now)


Oh, and I've included a pic of my house at the beginning of this blog--nothing like waiting until the 9th week I'm here to post a picture of my home!

Beautiful Cows and Toilette Tea

Mirirwe bose!! (Good afternoon, all)

Amakuro yanyu (how are you all)? Life is still swimming along merrily over here in Rwanda.

Last week the group traveled west to Nyungwe National Park to see some monkeys and of course, because it's Rwanda, some more spectacular mountains. The monkeys were a real riot show. Some jumped from tree to tree while others sat idly chewing on leaves. We learned that this particular brand of monkey was vegetarian and that chimps are their number 1 predator. Sadness, since they're so cute. While the pictures don't do the scenery justice they really don't capture the lovely odor that permeated the atmosphere as we were walking through the tea fields. Gah, it reminded me of the scent that eminates from our house bathroom--plumbing is a bit faulty and it is quite evident!!

This past weekend there was some epic dancing that took place at a birthday party held for one of the trainers. There I tried (for the second time) banana wine which is a very sweet, thick, somewhat tangy concoction of fermented banana. For those of you interested in food, I shall describe here in detail the delicious variety that comprised the meal at this festive event. There were two pots of guacamole, at least 3 vats of homemade fries, a large metal container of bread to dip into another huge pot of fondu or salsa and of course, onion rings. Plus, there was cake....that's all I have to say. Normally we're served pineapple, bananas or something called tree tomatoes which you bite open and spoon out the filling, personally not my favorite but it's sweet and it serves as dessert. After our relatively sparce meals of rice, pasta, potatoes, cabbage, beans, eggs, sauce, rabbit, fish, goat, beef, green beans and carrots, cassava (kind of like sweet potato) and this wonderful little eye-drop bottle full of hot sauce (rusenda), a little artificial sweetness goes a long way. Or, in this case, it takes the cake!!

Alright, enough food talk. Let's get down to business! Teaching. Whew, what a concept, what a challenge. I commend anybody who is a teacher and respect anybody even more for remaining one!! It's such a kick to think that I may be making a difference in some of these children's lives but then there are moments, sometimes more often than not, when I forget that and can only concentrate on how to keep a group of 70 kids in line. Yup, the classes in Model school can run up to roughly that amount of rambunctious little Rwandans. Needless to say, there is much to learn. One day I am the ornery school marm staring daggers at the kids and the next I'm the pushover cheerleader jumping around, making silly motions that the students giggle at and even try to mimic! I’m aiming for that happy medium though. Practice makes perfect, trial and error, and lots of experimentation going on right now. Tomorrow is the last day of teaching and I want to go out with a band so I’m trying to perfect my approach on how to teach the Hokey Pokey. That’s right, would you expect any less of me if I weren’t teaching the national dance of the U.S.A!?! Ha, wish me luck!

Last Wednesday, Mafubo and Mimi returned from school after they finished their national exams. I went over to visit with them and surprise, surprise, they held a Kwita Izina for me. That is a naming ceremony in Kinyarwanda and oh, what naming ceremony it was!! I invited a housemate of mine to join me and we ate dinner of rice and greens in the family living room before the official ceremony commenced. There was a group of about 15-20 neighbors, friends and family gathered and each one of them stood up to suggest a name they thought would be fitting for me. At the end, Mama wanje (my host mom) nodded and left the room to decide privately which she preferred the best. My housemate stood up and suggested, “Boom-shaka-lacka” but alas, that was not chosen. After a minute Mama returned and announced that my Kinyarwanda name would be: Nyampinga. Now, you don't pronounce the p, it's more like a soft "h" sound. They explained that it meant, beautiful, hard-working girl. Ok, so that sounds good, right? Well, I met up with some friends and a handful of the other trainers afterwards and told them my new name. Never have I heard so much laughter or earned so many astonished looks! The instant I told one of the trainers the news, he raised his eyebrows and said, "ohhh." It gets better. He began explaining that Nyampinga is a woman who is very well-respected in Rwanda, one who women aspire to. Then he said, "In Rwandan culture, cows are valued very much," and this is when my friends lost it. Over their cackles, I could hear him say something else about how this type of woman maintains a certain "decent" lifestyle, particularly how she walks, talks, and puts herself together, in other words, an organized, presentable woman. But, it basically means, "beautiful cow." So go ahead, take a break and laugh your heads off, I do sometimes when I don't think about the pressure that accompanies such a well-prized name.

Kinyarwanda: here’s the deal. Think about the hardest language, or rather the hardest thing you’ve ever had to undertake and that is this language x1000. Forget gender-oriented articles or mismatched noun-verb agreement, this is some ultimate craziness. There are 19 different noun classes!! Enough said. Well, not really, because then you have to conjugate any kind of words that match up with those nouns, such as adjectives AND verbs!!! Insane. Plus, there are several words that look the same on paper but when you want to vocalize any of them you had better brush up on your pronunciation because you just might be saying that you have a door instead of a family (umuryango) or that you need a ball versus a jacket (umupira) or the best: that you’d rather fart on your family than visit them (gusura)!! Just a slight upward slant on that last word and boom you’re saying something that will have people laughing for days (like they don’t already!!) So not only does all of the vocabulary look similar but every time I want to say something it comes out all jumbled. To take some advice from the penguins in "Madagascar," I think I’m just going to “smile and wave, smile and wave,” from here on out.

As I sit here and write this I am being eaten alive—the bugs here are absurdly abundant and they find me particularly juicy apparently!! It is the rainy season after all but the thing to remember is that it’s only the mild rainy season. The best is yet to come!! I can’t wait for more flying termites—these things are huge, flying, and dumb. They bump into the walls like it’s their business and that’s what you’d think they lived to do until you wake up one morning to find your bedroom floor covered in tiny, flaky wings…that have been shed by billions of termites, wandering aimlessly outside in the yard. And don’t even get me started on the mosquitoes…everywhere, buzzing around, I woke up one night and thought I was going insane because one was trapped inside our room but really it sounded as if it were whirling around in my brain!! I wake up looking as though I’ve just endured a bout of chicken pox!

But those are just the “perks” of living in Africa. I have to say, sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m actually on this vast continent and that this is real life. This weekend I will be going to visit another PC volunteer in order to get a feel for the terrain outside of Training life and prepare for what I should expect at my permanent site. I’ll be traveling over into the western part of the country so more pictures!!

As for goodies that you can send this way: I’m pretty sure Rwandans do not have the word deodorant in their vocabulary because it is just not used here!! So if you want to send some nice smelling anti-perspirant my way it would be much appreciated!! And maybe school supplies such as markers, crayons, pencils, pens etc.

Alright gang, hope all is well stateside!!

Amahoro (peace)