Pursuit of Happiness

Hey Folks!!

Just got back from a trek up to the school where there is a full house up at the main hall tonight. There are students overflowing down the stairwell and when I arrived a little too fashionably late, I met with some of my own girls who had just finished dancing. Shoot, I thought, I missed seeing the competition in action. See, for the past few weeks I have been heading a fledging dance troupe and we have made some moderate progress but there is still work to be done. And as it turns out, there is another group at the school that boasts the title of Modern Dance Club. This information was haphazardly thrown at me one day when I looked across the hall during one of our “rehearsals” to see the other group peeking from behind the curtain at our antics below. I’m not sure how long they have been organized but they sure do have a solid presence, complete with a loyal following and even performance slots!

That’s all about to change now that I’m here!! Haha, not exactly but I must admit that, as I walked away tonight I couldn’t help but conjure up a playful image in my head: the girls gathered outside in their little Cheerios outfits, excitedly chatting about their latest successful performance in front of an adoring public while the members of my group scuttle around in their mismatched outfits and hesitant movements. It’s not a complete imitation of the show because I have not yet run into a Sue Sylvester character, but I think my excessive viewing of the series, Glee, has sifted into my daily life here. Now, my students ask for “Gree,” (l’s and r’s are interchangeable in Kinyarwanda which creates for interesting and occasionally risque pronunciations—think: election) oohing over the awesome vocal capacities of Rachel and Mercedes and ahhing over the variety of dance numbers in each episode. How did this come about?? All I did was bring my computer to the first meeting of dance club and poof: a personality was born. We would be the first Glee club at C.I.C Muramba and it would be fantastic. So far, that wishful forecast has not completely come to fruition but step by step we’ll get there; we’ve had a few practices and they have the basic steps down to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” and a select few have caught the words to “Keep Holding On” by Avril Lavigne, both ideas inspired from the show. Then, last week, after requesting to learn lyrical/jazz moves, the students and I began free-flow dancing when I did something astounding: I spun in a circle.

You may be wondering what kind of relevant educational content this could have for the students . It’s a valid question. I wonder that at times too, especially when the other teachers are grading math tests and preparing chemistry notes but I realized that similar to learning English, students learn best when they are motivated to learn and in this case the girls in my troupe have shown the initiative and interest to participate and learn which could not make me any happier. In my very short career as a teacher, I have awkwardly realized that I dislike feeling as though I am forcing people to learn something they neither want nor care to learn. So, for now my attention is directed at my little underdog dance group because they are excited to learn a subject I know about and I am equally excited to share these particular skills with them. Next on the agenda is either “Te Amo” or “Bleeding Love,” to which they will perfect the spin that I instructed them to practice. I’ll let you know how it goes!

With all of that being said, I must confess that I am feeling somewhat sluggish when it comes to teaching. Sure, the dancing and singing, the prancing around and playing basketball is quite enjoyable and in a way can lead to some informal English lessons but when it comes down to it, my primary function here is to teach English to secondary students. On paper that looks easy enough and before I came to Rwanda, I thought, rather arrogantly and ignorantly, that I could do that without breaking a sweat. Unfortunately that job description has led me to question my daily activities in the face of the real situation; waking up and going to the classroom where 40 to 50 teenage girls stare at me slack-jawed and dazed, if their heads are up at all. In recent weeks I’ve noticed an even more acute change in some of the girls’ behavior: they just don’t care. Biology, chemistry, physics and math come first—understandably important and valuable to pursuing a career in the future—but it makes my job that much harder to inspire enthusiasm or incite creativity. It’s just not that necessary for them. In the effort to do something fun and engaging with my Senior 6 level students, (the oldest and in a couple of weeks gone from the school after taking the national exam) I decided to take the song, “One Step at a Time,” by Jordan Sparks and splice up the lyrics onto several mini note cards. After the students received a verse or a line they would discuss it, translate if need be, and try to follow along the next time I played the song. Well, they enjoyed the song and even sang along to the words they knew but when I asked them to come forward and organize themselves into a line according to the order in which they heard the words, I don’t think I’ve seen a more lackluster response. That was in the one class, the other Senior 6 class has totally checked out—just last week they requested to drop one hour of English in favor of studying more Physics. Aside from the slight bruise that made to my ego, I had no problem with that because, as I mentioned before, I’m finding that it is vastly easier to teach those who are interested and willing but very hard to interest those who are unwilling.

On other fronts:

As some of you may know about already, I have been involved in a project to set up a library in my community. I do apologize to those of you who have shown interest (and even contributed already) for any confusion that has arisen surrounding the details. To be honest, I have been a little shaky about them but I think we’ve got it somewhat honed now. The idea is pretty self-explanatory but if anybody has any questions I’d be more than happy to answer them. I’m very excited about this project, not only for the impact it will make on the community in terms of introducing literature appreciation and improving education opportunities but also for the fact that I am involving myself in the community.

Finally, after spending 9 months at site, I am beginning to carve out a space to call my own. First, I should preface that, in light of my earlier behavior at site which consisted of pealing out of town at the soonest and most frequent opportunities, I made the conscientious (aka guilty) decision to stay put for a bit during this term. Plus, I’ve recently discovered that my distaste for traveling in this country has morphed into a lazy loathing and that, along with the desire to save some francs for an upcoming holiday trip (more on that later) caused me to stick around these parts. And what a great decision that was! I’ve discovered so much about the area in such a short time. It’s as if I came back from the summer holiday and opened my window to see a lone boy shuffling outside, unwittingly about to confirm that today is, in fact, still Christmas Day. Yes, I haven’t missed it!! I can still go out and make everything right again. I can still go make peace with everyone.

So that’s what I have done. The first week back I began to fully take advantage of all that my village has to offer, most particularly, the bright, intelligent and progressive thinkers that are interested in making a difference in their community. First, I sat down with Jean Paul, a man who has been working with the Engineers without Borders for the past 6 years, and we hashed out a proposal for a workshop to help solve malnutrition problems. Then, I met with Jean du Dieu, a man who has been actively working for the improvement of the area by creating an English club and heading a local fuel briquette project. Together we have been working to create a substantial proposal for an agricultural and environment project. To create and implement this type of project, I have been discovering, is somewhat complicated and involved and will require much concentrated input from all parties involved. I am quite enjoying the process of collaboration and the planning for future events. In addition to those two proposals, I have the seedlings for an ICT project and creating an after school kids program that would focus on offering the children (specifically primary aged) a place to unleash all of their energy after their lessons finish. So many children do not have anything to do after school gets out so they fool around, goofing off and perpetuating the cycle of indifference and lack of motivation. After talking with one of the headmasters of a local primary school, I felt assured that I was on the right track with this idea of a creating a youth center.

As always, this is a learning experience, ever ebbing and flowing with the events that take place but I can safely say that it is becoming more like home here. I have reached a point where I’ve finally become comfortable to walk outside my door and not feel like some freak-outcast (although people do still stare unabashedly I just smile and wave). I have finally found some level ground on which to plant my feet which causes me to pause and wonder: why haven’t I been doing this all along? But then I look at my watch and remember I have to meet with my counterpart to discuss plans for a project or my garden needs attending to or there is movie night with the Congolese teachers or my girls are waiting for me to show up and teach them the latest steps to the thriller video—I have somewhere to be and I’m going.

Could I BE any CORNier?!?

Since moving into my new house I have discovered many joys. Eric, my buddy who lives in the neighboring house, and I have set up a couple of impromptu football games with the other neighbor kids which has proven to be both a decent workout (those kids have some spunk) and good for integration purposes. In addition to that, there is a plethora of outdoor activities that I engage in, such as: brushing my teeth, cooking, washing my hair, doing laundry and going to the bathroom. But I love it all. Experiencing nature by moonlight and the glow of twinkling stars has been liberating. My favorite part of the day is walking out to the side yard where, if I look to the right, over the brick enclosure, I can see the mountains of Ngororero bathed in the first beams of morning light, standing imperious and grand. There is also a pinch of the medieval mixed in with my new living arrangement. Every once in awhile it becomes clear that I should bathe so I don my mini towel and head to the indoor bathroom that has not yet been touched by the electrical current running through the house. And because I am not one for dumping ice-cold water over my head at 6 in the morning, I resort to bathing by candlelight which is so middle ages.

On July 4^th there was so much corn on the cob!! I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to keep eating ear after ear brought to me by roommates but of course, I did. It was fun despite the lack of fireworks. Oh wait, there were some in the form of popcorn. It was everywhere! I had the pot on and the kernels were popping when Eugenie decided to check and see if they’re ready. Bad choice, Eugenie. Using the scraps of used brown paper bag to prevent any skin damage, she reached for the shaking tin pot, aiming for the lid but as she began to slide it off the contents decided to take flight and before any of us knew what was happening, there were specks of puffed corn sprinkling the air. Before we lost all of the food, she managed to gain control over the exploding pot and retrieve it from the fire but amid the shrieks of surprise and cries of dismay I began laughing and realized that this was indeed Fourth of July because we had created our own fireworks right there in the backyard!

A couple of weeks ago I attended a wedding. The groom specifically asked if I would be in it so that he could balance the ratio of blacks to whites. Normally I would be offended by this superficial overture but this time I was thinking purely of clothing. The traditional garb that the women wear to ceremonies and special events is a tight, spaghetti-strap tank top, shrouded by a delicate scarf tied at one shoulder, finished with a skirt made of thicker material and similar pattern. I wore it with grace, or at least I like to think so, despite the dust and cramped space inside the wedding limo (an SUV truck on loan from UNICEF). My msungu partners in this charade, I mean, occasion, were two Americans, one of whom had spent 10 months teaching at C.I.C a couple of years ago. As best man, he was fitted in a white suit, pointed shoes (all the rage in Rwandan men's fashion) and a bright blue, synthetic shirt with ruffles at the sleeve. They were handsome. After the drinks were served and dowry exchanged at the wife’s house we all piled into the SUV and slowly made our way over the bumpy terrain, posing as a path that was only ever created for pedestrians, not motor vehicles stuffed with well-dressed people going to a church. Once inside the church I realized with some embarrassment that, although I was a prized ornament to be showcased to the entire congregation of wedding-goers, I was not one of the wedding party. This was conveyed with subtle clarity as I counted the number of bridal attendants and found that I was the odd woman out. Oh well, the cake was good and the dress was fun!

A few days before the wedding the Americans and I ventured up to the northern town of Musanze where we had the special treat of seeing baby gorillas!! Not only were they adorable but as the one female sinuously glided up the wooden beams of her home and proceeded to lounge with one leg crossed over the other, our guide turned and commented on how human they were. Then, as an afterthought she chuckled and supposed that, “or maybe we’re so gorilla.” It was a moment in which I very much regretted the absence of my camera. Those orphan gorillas would have made such a better picture than me in my ridiculous wedding get-up!

The good thing about being located directly in the middle of nowhere is the easy choice of which big town I want to be my primary place of goods and services. I have switched from Gitarama to Musanze as the spot to go to; it has won my favor by showing off the awesome volcanoes and the pleasantly cool climate. Even the bus ride is better, with most of the road paved and the scenery consisting of hills, rivers and no banana trees. It looks like it could be a magazine ad for Switzerland. Sometimes the beauty can be deceiving though. Behind the rolling hills and streams there is trouble. Now in the dry season, there is difficulty finding a constant or reliable source of water and trees are being felled left and right to make way for more crops or to be used for charcoal. It was a dreary realization as I walking up to the parish to meet up with the fathers and the Americans where team mzungu took on the priests in an epic basketball match! The Americans and I won but only with a slight advantage of having one more person on our team. Father Damasen (have no idea how to spell his name) is 6”4 and a total machine on the court! It’s no wonder they call him “Big D.”

I have made some observations in the past 9 months of living here. There is a difference between the U.S and Rwanda in regards to bodily eruptions in public; Americans don't do it and Rwandans do, in which I now participate. It is hard not to cave in and pick at the substance that has accumulated inside your nose, not when there is such an abundance of dust and dirt filtering the air. The other major display of bodily functions is burping!! In the classroom, during meetings, or while talking with someone, they are filled with little gas bubbles. There have been times where I have pointedly or distractedly paused in a lesson due to some large eruption from one of my students. It occurs while I am conversing with my roommates. And the best part is that I totally do it too! I’ve also adopted the ability to pack away an entire volcano of food (this may be one of the leading causes for that second display). When one of the Americans watched a plate set in front of him he queried whether that was usual to be served such a large quantity and I explained to him that yes, it was and his plate did not even measure up to the heaping mountain that is nomally served up at Canada, the cafeteria where the teachers at my school eat (the place gained the nickname from a foreigner who came to stay with the sisters a while ago and this is a big assumption on my part, but I believe that individual came from…Canada). Anyhow, the American asked me this as I was just about finished with my own plate and he had barely touched his! Man, either my stomach has expanded of its own accord or my eyes are unable to translate to my brain just how much food my intestines can process. It’s a point of mystery to me. However, I do not find myself consuming as much anymore since I began cooking for myself.

As I described before, I am not the best cook the world has ever seen but I have always prided myself on my ability to learn and let me tell you, it has been one lesson after another. The latest note taken includes the discovery that it is much more profitable to cook when and where one can see. This may sound self-explanatory and it may well be, for everybody else, but I realized this one day when I began cooking at 5 p.m, not 6. You see, although we are fully wired with electricity in the house, it is, as my students would explain, “missing” from certain parts, including the kitchen. Once you hit the 6:30 mark, dusk has transformed into dark and you can no longer use your own faculties to see but rely upon the beam of a flashlight. This, if one has been accustomed from an early age, is not such a problem but it is for one (me) who has not had much practice in the culinary arts and whenever there was the off chance I found myself before a stove it was usually accompanied by some artificial light. Ok, back to the idea of learning: my latest attempt at pancakes resulted in some pretty tasty creations and even Eugenie had to agree, admitting that, “somehow… it’s okay.” Hmmm, if only I could say the same thing about her singing. Both of my roommates enjoy singing at a very high pitch tone that begins in the evening and continues well into the night. And our walls are paper thin. Needless to say, I'm becoming really good at zoning everything out.

This past term was a bit of a doozy and the only substantial assessment I can make is that there is work to be done, both on my part as well as the students. I’m still a clueless wonder when it comes to the time when exams roll around, as was indicated by my shock over the announcement that the exams had been pushed forward a week and the confusion I displayed regarding the grading sheets…phew. But it’s over and now I have all this new material and ideas for next term. In addition to gaining a better foothold in the school system and my community, starting up a secondary project, I have also concluded that it is time that my students learn how to develop some creativity. This term I thought I had challenged them more but I only succeeded in making more work for myself since none of them seemed to grasp what I was asking for…grading the exams reminded me of finals season at college all over again. One upswing to the end of term was the sector-wide teachers meeting held at my school. The meeting itself was pretty dull but the music was fantastic: Abba’s “Super Trooper” greeted me when I entered the big hall!

Back in the states you probably have your own political foibles that are occupying your attention. This is quite reasonable as I understand there are several pressing issues happening at the moment. This past weekend was a big production in my village: the president himself came to visit!! Unfortunately, he was not coming as the president but as a potential candidate and due to Peace Corps policy that advises volunteers to refrain from becoming involved in the politics of the host country I skipped town. Before I left I did benefit somewhat from the auspicious event; the path previously covered in rocks and rubble that led from the main road to my school has now been flattened, cushioned with dirt and smoothed over by gigantic water tanks rumbling through. Good news because soon I will be able to get back out on my bike again without fear of puncturing another tire!

Fortunately, there was another highly pressing event that required my presence, the first annual Peace Corps Kickball tournament. Volunteers from every group were in attendance at the two-day long fête of sports, beer and puppies…wait, what?!?! That’s right, there were pets there too, a puppy who nicked a couple of people with her teething antics but remained lovable anyway and an older one who served as both protector and entertainer for us. She acted as guard for the group of exotic foreigners who, suddenly and in great numbers, seemed to descend upon the peninsular town of Nyamasheke. Kivu (the dog is named after the lake she resides next to, clever, right?) scampered alongside us as we walked to and from town, charging the children standing by the school and then racing off. At one point during an intense inning of the game, she decided to practice a little crowd control and let loose a stream of barking which scattered the bubble of kids hovering around. From the hill above, people who happened to be observing the peculiar action taking place below might have thought it somewhat disquieting that when Kivu began corralling the children, the large gathering of foreigners broke out into uninhibited laughter. It was a sight but it probably did not compare to the dive I took running from home to first base. After lobbing the ball I revved up to go but apparently my legs were not used to such a spurt of energy because three strides in I face-planted right in front of everybody! I was in such a hurry that I did not take into account the fact that the ball had been caught and the entire show was just that, pure entertainment for the crowd.

Alrighty, gotta head over to the airport to pick up my parents who are in town for a couple of weeks!

Adios amigos!