It is something of an accomplishment to look back over the past 17 months and realize that I’m still here. Oil spills, strikes, elections, hurricanes, re-elections, emerging artists, loved ones gone…the world still turns. And I am still here. Every morning, without fail, the birds hum melodiously outside my window and I’m compelled to lean out, raise my finger with the calm expectancy of Mary Poppins and begin tweeting along with them. Meanwhile, doors bang, feet shuffle, the sinuous voice of my roommate filters into my room, reaching effortlessly over the rafters in the ceiling, calling me forth from my slumber to approach the world once again.
It is with tireless grace and unfailing compassion that my roommates have reminded me of the joys of living with others. Theirs is not a quiet nature and dwelling in a building that carries noise like a wistful pigeon, obliviously flying about, I am reminded of that nearly every day. They are unapologetically loud and somehow my sensitivities have been heightened since coming here (or maybe now I’m more aware of everything) so it makes for a trial trying to maintain a semblance of calm and reason in the early morning when my sleep-laden brain cannot process much beyond the clanging noises or in the heavy hours of night with the shouting back and forth over my head; my room is situated right smack dab in the middle of their rooms. In defense of the all pervasive noise I retreat into my own musical world, jamming my earphones into my ears as soon as the first utterance is emitted
. As with any living situation, there are external forces that one cannot control and in this case there are several, including my own living companions. There is no successful way to clam up a cow and there is no forceful strategy to shush the neighborhood kids from yelping and whooping out in the yard. Similarly, there is no way to modulate the volume at which my roommates converse. Good, fine, whatever, c’est la vie. That is part of adjusting and overcoming certain challenges that unavoidable in any situation. But just when I thought I had mastered my own sensibilities regarding this particular situation, I walked in one day to blaring static, crackling and screeching. I searched madly for where this cacophonous sound was and there it was: a pocketbook sized radio emitting some terribly sonorous and absurdly loud program in Kinywarwanda. When I thought I couldn’t tolerate anymore, the gospel choir began and that’s when I knew I had a serious problem on my hands. Unfortunately, the radio has only one volume level, that of blaring obnoxiously loud static. It’s possibly the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
As I have undoubtedly mentioned before, this experience is tough and comes with obstacles and hurdles to overcome-- who knew that some of them would take the shape of two dainty Rwandan women residing in the same house as me? Cultural differences are the reason for many misunderstandings and in this case, that would be the main culprit behind the constant strife. Consideration for others is something that always comprised a major part of my comportment and the way I interact with people but that does not seem to hold any large significance in the daily activities of Rwandans. Late into the night I can hear the base from the music playing at the nearby convenience shop and my colleagues who live in the house only a few yards away crank up the volume on their stereos whenever the mood strikes them, aka, 6:30 a.m or 11 p.m. Part of the adjustment process is relinquishing control over things that cannot be controlled by any force I may possess. The mosquitoes will buzz incessantly overhead and the rain will fall mercilessly; I’m finding that it makes life exponentially easier to accept things the way they are and enjoy the minute pleasures. Before I stifle myself with anxious thoughts and paranoid worries, I take a deep breath, answer the tentative knock at my bedroom door and join Vestine, Eugenie and sometimes our colleagues from next door, out in the dining room. As we share a plate of plantains and beans I begin to shake off the biting annoyance and enjoy the easy calm that lazily drifts down to surround our family-style dinner. This can work out after all.
School: This year has taken a turn for the confused, off-course route. Not only has it taken about a month to get rolling since the first official day of school but both Senior 1 and 4 have not arrived yet and I’m still acclimating myself to my new schedule. Back in November I had discussed with my headmistress about the possibility of working in the library teaching all levels, hoping for a bit of a change from last year’s composition of classes. Over the past few weeks of slowly adapting to this new platform of teaching, an undeniable revelation took place: teaching older students is not for me. In contrast to last year when I threw myself unwittingly into my lessons and tried whatever I knew to get them motivated and learning, this year I am using my knowledge and experience to avoid the disillusionment and frustration from happening again. The billowing storm was gathering outside, full force gales swooping in as I entered the classroom of senior 5 last Monday. Their glazed faces, the slack-jawed attention and the apathy oozing from their pores was enough to send me reeling from the room, all but tearing my hair out. In short, I will be replacing those hours by helping with the extra-curricular activities such as Media club, maybe a Film arts appreciation club and some students would like to create a GLOW club with which I would only be too happy to help them. I’m not entirely sure what my superiors had in mind when they requested a PCV but here I am: part-time librarian and after-school club advisor. I think I will don my new position nicely.
Encouraged by the idea to devote my time to projects that I am enthusiastic about and willing to engage in, I am sure that my time will be fully occupied. At home, my garden is growing beautifully—there are baby cucumbers and the flowers are healthy and smiling. Soon I hope to plant some lemon grass. For several months I have resolved to end the pandemic of mosquitoes lurking in the sewage pit so conveniently placed on the sloped hill next to my house. I heard that the little buggers are highly averse to lemon grass so here goes! I’m determined!!
The landscape is more beautiful than ever, still in disbelief at times that this is actually Africa and it is here in Rwanda where I reside. Walking back from a hike the other day a gaggle of kids joined me on the trek back to school. They began kicking a football and it felt so effortless to pass it back to them. There are times that I feel very anti-social and unwilling to interact with people but in that moment I realized how great it felt; I felt like the Grinch who suddenly realized that his heart was expanding.
Well, hope all is well back home!!
and also, please check out my COMMUNITY LIBRARY PROJECT at
Whew!! Where to begin?? So much happened that it’s difficult to decide where to start telling you all about the most amazing vacation ever!! It feels just like yesterday that I was in Cairo, Egypt….well, maybe because it only ended a day and half ago!! Since there is so much information to share I will try to make this as succinct as possible!!
The first day I arrived in Cairo, I went to pick up my best friend from New Jersey who had made a very uncharacteristically spontaneous decision to come join the rest of the crew in Egypt and I was thrilled. After 14 months of separation, we picked up right where we left off!! At the apartment we all gathered around the suitcase she brought bulging with goodies from the states—lucky charms, cheez-its (that didn’t last more than two days!) and candy galore!! Christmas came early and it couldn’t have been more like home than if we had been at home gathered around the tree. As it was, we were circled around the giant television but more on that later.
The next day we drove about a half hour outside of the city to visit one of the world’s ancient wonders, the pyramids. As we sped along the highway, we could make out the famous shapes through the smog, appearing suddenly from behind the cityscape. I was taken aback at just how close these grand structures were to the city. In one direction you could see slabs of concrete melded with metal stacked on top of each other while the other way provided a view of expansive, open desert space. This second vista was unparallel in its sparse beauty-- 14 months in Rwanda has made me highly aware of the concept of space and its use.
That night we went to see the Sufis, a troupe of twirling, spinning, bright colored men set in constant motion- that is whirling dervishes. Just when you think he’s about to stop he slows down and holds his arms in a different position and KEEPS GOING. It was non-stop motion, brightly colored saucers swirling through the air, around and around, in front as they kneeled or overhead as they limboed backward, never stopping, imperceptibly slowing when they changed the angle of the vibrant flying disks. In one word: mesmerizing.
Back at the apartment,( our one colleague procured this sweet apartment right in the heart of downtown) we rested and ended the first night in Egypt with what became a ritual—watching some t.v before going to bed. The place had 3 bedrooms, a dining room, kitchen, bathroom (equipped with flush toilet, hot shower, and laundry machine!) and came fully furnished!! The first couple of days were unseasonably cold and at night it was an exercise just to extricate one’s self from under the comforter. It began to warm up ever so slightly over the next few days but the slight coolness was always present, making it such a nice change from the balmy air I have come to expect in Kigali. The cold was also slightly more pervasive inside the apartment than outside but that wasn’t enough to force us to leave our spot in front of the T.V…let me clarify: CABLE TV: enough said. I can’t recall a point at which the t.v was not on which may sound awful but for people who have not seen a real television in over a year, it was a godsend. Thank you, Santa!We gorged and gorged and gorged some more.
Food was nothing but superb, whether it was out on the town or cooked in the apartment, we had our fill of falafel and kosherie, potato chips and copious amounts of junk food we can’t find in Rwanda—we probably went through 10 cardboard boxes worth of Doritos and 20 bags of chocolate-covered peanuts!I quickly made friends with a squat, old man who worked at the local falafel place below our apartment. Every other evening, I would skip down the flight of stairs, turn right out onto the narrow street, lined with cars and food stands, where I would let my nose lead me the few remaining steps into the little shop.As I would make my way back I made sure not to swing my food too provocatively to avoid attracting the thousands of hounds and felines that prowled the streets. Coming from Rwanda where the spotting of a dog is enough to call the media, I was overwhelmed with the amount of stray animals wandering around!
During the day we split our time between the scholastic and the frivolous. Cairo is a place filled with history, culture and character but I don’t need to go into the assorted details of it all—I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. Aside from museums, Islamic Cairo, and old Cairo there are plenty of hotels, restaurants, sheesha places, fast-food joints, book stores, clothing shops and movie theaters.
We took a break from sight-seeing one day and went to see the new Harry Potter movie which scared me silly when the snake attacked (sorry, spoiler alert) but the price was only 15 Egyptian pounds which equaled about $3!! That was unbelievable when compared to the prices back in the states! The next day we went to the Egyptian Museum where we saw mummies, yes, real dead mummies. And boy, were they gross but it’s amazing to see how well the embalming process has preserved them over thousands of years. We also enjoyed a ride on the Nile where we took a felucca boat out a couple of times, once at sunset and once mid-afternoon. It was every bit relaxing to lie back on the cushioned bench and peer out at the buildings, feeling the breeze sway the sails overhead.
In another part of this vibrating city, we wound our way through the busy markets. There are two large outdoor markets, one sells mainly tourist items while the other is a tent market where you can purchase grand tents made of canvas. While we scurried through the tourist market, being welcomed by the vendors (whereas Rwandans say, “good morning” every time they see you, Egyptians greet with “welcome”), we were presented with a variety of goods, from clay mugs, corn on the cob andbejeweled costumes made of translucent material. This last one fascinated me because everywhere we went women were generally covered from head to toe, whether they had on a niqab (only showing their eyes) or jeans and a headscarf. I never did discover just who was purchasing these rather skimpy outfits, although I was able to view a performance that required such apparel.
One night the girls and I ventured out to search for a guide book-recommended venue where we could observe one of Egypt’s oldest traditions: belly-dancing. Throughout its long history, belly-dancing has had its ups and downs but has a stable presence now. As we sat there waiting for the show to begin, the band struck up a heavy musical number, filled with tabla drums, tambourines, and oboes. At an almost deafening pitch, I barely realized that the place had started to fill up. While I was looking around at the male-infested audience, I nearly missed the main attraction as she shook her way out onto the stage. And I mean, shook her booty. There was not a whole lot of what I had imagined as traditional belly-dancing but a ton of booty jiggling. I looked over at my companions and we all agreed with the guidebook’s critique that this performance was “comical,” but it did not prepare us for the men who were invited up on stage.They were the best part of the whole show!! One guy jumped down and came over to grab Katy and me to join him in his hip swirling gig. Then, the actual belly-dancer grabbed my hands and we began spinning around and around, before she decided to shake her ta-ta’s which prompted me to follow suit.
The next day we hopped on the train heading northwest to the coastal town of Alexandria. After a 3 and half hour trip we walked a couple of blocks to where the water stretches out across the bay. Following along the curve of the bay we ended up at a fort that looks similar to a castle. Unfortunately, due to years of deterioration that wiped out most of its previous structures, the fort is one of the last remainders of historical significance in Alexandria. However, there are still things to see and places to go, such as the Library. With its tall pillars, lit-up rows and columns of books, sculpture pieces, and displays of various library memorabilia, this library could pass for a museum. It is an architectural masterpiece.
Following the tour around the library, we went for dinner at a fish restaurant (glorified Long John Silver’s with a hint of Macaroni Grill) which was absolutely fantastic food for anyone who loves to eat fish…which I do not. After dinner we took a 50 second taxi ride across the highway to the mall, avoiding the dreadful traffic. I know that I regaled all of you about my state of shock upon entering the mall down in Pretoria but I think I became utterly dumbfounded based purely on the fact that it was Friday and every family was out doing their weekend shopping; I have not encountered that sheer amount of children, full of hyperactivity and energy who were not focused on my skin color but the toys in front of them. Apart from the intense mass of them, I found it endearing to see young children having fun and enjoying their childhood. I decided to dilute the shock somewhat by digging into some good ‘ol fashioned Cinnabon, hmm mmm.
On December 25th, we returned from Alexandria and my friend, Katy and I went to see one of the Egyptian Premier League teams play soccer. I could not have asked for a better way to spend the holiday. A whole horde of students had shown up to watch and they were geared up to go! All dressed in red (their colors are red and white) and energized, they sang and jumped the entire game. It was like watching a sea of red fish swimming in synchronization. The game was good too, a bit slow with only a score of 1-0 by the time we left but it was still great to get a sense what sports fans are like in Egypt. Not too different from Americans!
With three days before we departed Egypt, Chris and I made a last minute trip over to the Sinai Peninsula. According to the adventures of “Ivory and Grace,” this was bound to be another of the same ilk. At 11 a.m on Monday we jumped on a bus and proceeded to drive for 8 hours down to St. Katherine’s Protectorate. This is an extremely historical place, housing both St. Katherine’s Monastery, site of where Katherine’s body was found after she was persecuted, and Mt. Sinai, where God spoke to Moses and the 10 Commandments were created. Major historical significance there. By 9 o’clock that night we pulled into Al Milga, a little town located right outside the base of the trail up to Mt. Sinai. Four hours later we began our trek up the mountain.
Bundled up in every piece of clothing I brought along, including socks on my hands (“smittens”) and sweatpants over my jeans, I actually started to sweat. As it turns out, this mountain is only a few meters higher in altitude than those at my site but I wouldn’t have known that at the time!! Whew, what a work out, AND, it was in the wee hours of the morning, after having not slept at all and barely drunk any water. Sure, I could see why it took Moses 40 days to get to his ultimate destination—I could barely make it up a designated path with a Bedouin guide and my flashlight!!At 3:30 a.m we reached the peak, or the nearest possible point at which to stop and wait until the sun rises. There, Chris and I tucked ourselves into our backpacks and napped for a sound hour or two before our guide woke us up.
Finally, at 6:30 in the morning, on Tuesday the 28th of December, I saw the sun come up over Mt. Sinai. What a magnificent show—much better than the belly-dancing!!
Back in Cairo, Chris and I slowly began to regain a semblance of strength (we rented a private car to drive us back which only took 6 hours) which we needed. As I mentioned before, Cairo is a wonderful city, full of sundry sights, sounds, and smells but those factors can also detract from the city. If you google Cairo or read any articles about the city, you may come across some information about the traffic. But I can give you a little run-down to save you the investigation: it is horrendous!!! Hence the title of this entry. As we came to discover, it is wise to follow an Egyptian across any major street and above all, WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!!! Several times I felt the breeze of a passing car, only centimeters from my legs and on a few choice occasions we witnessed a fender-bender (car crashes never sound like the ones in movies, I’ve noticed) and one really sad incident in which a boorish taxi driver ran straight into the thigh of an older woman as she was crossing during the allotted time to cross. He didn’t do anything but shrug his shoulders when she rubbed her leg and told him he needed to be more careful. This is why one man told my friends, “you must cross with bravery—the traffic is crazy!”
In addition to the terrible driving, there is so much pollution resulting from the near 2 million cars driving around the city. Today may have been the first day I can breathe soundly, for I am no longer in that exhaust-filled bubble. Along the street corners you can piles upon piles of trash which did not seem to phase me in the least until one member of our group coming directly from the states pointed it out. I guess I haven’t been to a really large city in awhile, that it does not make my radar. However, I could not help but notice the sounds—there does not seem to be any limit on how much honking one car can do because it is impossible to meander down a street without hearing the squawking, grating sound of continuous beeping. It is mind-boggling how much they honk and how little they seem to listen to it. When we came back to Kigali it was almost eerie to hear the absolute lack of horns, pure silence.
And so it goes. Back to old grindstone. I am going to head back to site tomorrow and use this next week to prepare for school which starts on the 10th of January. Woo hoo!! I should be working in the school library this year, teaching literature and reading comprehension. I am very excited for it to begin!!
I hope you enjoyed reading about my experiences in Egypt—it was a thrilling and extremely enjoyable vacation. Happy Holidays to everyone and ring in the new year with tons of joy and happiness-have a sip of champagne for me!!
I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer serving in Rwanda. This blog is not a reflection of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps but the thoughts and impressions of my experience.
My post address is:
B.P 202
Gitarama, Rwanda
HI ALL!!!
