PICTURES ARE BETTER THAN WORDS!

Briefly: my life has been consumed by my women's coop (we've started grass mat making, which includes trips to get the grass from the valley, as shown in the pictures, and things like learning how to make peanut butter, creating a leadership committee, and discussing future projects...love these women!)...my girl's club at school and planning a girls' camp with other volunteers for next month, love these girls!... playing sports at school in the afternoons, particularly focusing on the girls and making a general fool of myself on the volleyball court and soccer field, and teaching them how to throw a disc, which they are super enthusiastic about!...building bookshelves from scrap wood so our "library" might actually look like a LIBRARY!...and the daily activities, visiting, chores, choir, and my kiddies! My full time partner in crime, Anita, turned 7 a few months ago but true to Rwandan style we didn't nail down her actual date of birth til sometime this month, so we celebrated late with a reallll boxed cake brought from America by another volunteer, happy birthday singing, and making a wish and blowing out the candle! She was positively glowing all night!

So, these pictures show getting grass with my coop women, kids playing at the well which is under construction and will sooooon bring water all the way up to the village (!!), walking around enjoying the scenary with my housemate Josie and little neighbor Anita, some of my Senior 1 girls doing tons and tons of laundry down by the well (the taller one in the back is Anita's older sister and also awesome), and Anita's birthday celebration.

5 months left, holy cow so much to do! It's going to be beyond incredibly difficult to leave...

When it rains...

Warning: This is long, out of character I know…

Projects pound down! Exciting, overwhelming, full of possibilities. And only 7 months to go. Here's the summary of things that may (or may not) come to pass in the rest of my time here:

1. IBIJEGA-- Two 40,000 liter underground rainwater collection cisterns are going to be built at my schools, one at the primary and one at the secondary school. After a long, long (insert a few more longs) drawn-out process of writing a Peace Corps project proposal and waiting for it to pass from desk to desk, gaining all the necessary stamps of approval on the Rwanda side, from which it would then face the beloved bureaucratic processing of DC, and THEN finally would require your well appreciated donations, my project was mercifully given full sponsorship by an NGO working in Rwanda, bypassing all further waiting! Awesome in many ways, mostly in saving time. My community has had their contribution (about 30% of the total project costs) ready since December, so they've been anxious to get started, and we should begin digging in the next few weeks, hopefully in time to catch some of the up-coming rainy season's water. The water will be completely potable, and will be used for drinking, hand-washing, and cleaning purposes by some 2,000 students and staff between the two schools which otherwise have no water. Although you will no longer be hounded by me to donate money, thanks for all your support in getting this project going!

2. GLOW Club/Camp: Girls Leading Our World-- Many volunteers worldwide have GLOW clubs, which are meant to promote gender equality, girl's empowerment, and HIV/AIDS education to young girls. I'm just getting my own club started at school with the secondary school girls, and working with many other volunteers from my region (Eastern Rwanda) to run a 5 day GLOW camp this summer for about 100 girls from our schools. My club at school has had a bit of a mixed start- a combination of really excited girls with great ideas for what they want to learn and do in this club, what skills they have to offer, and what their overall goals are, plus the logistical nightmares of trying to work with 80+ girls at the same time within the school club hours, which sometimes become mandatory cleaning or farming or all-school meeting hours. A not so uncommon scenario from the past term: "Benjamin, we are having clubs today, yes?" "Oh, Julie, I think today they must clean." "But can we have club for maybe 1 hour, and cleaning for 1 hour?" "Oh, yes, it isn't no problem..." Which inevitably means, yes, theoretically a miracle could happen in which they will spend only one hour cleaning, but really clubs won't happen at all today. And so it goes. We have a few weeks of school break now though, which I am trying to use to restructure things and move club meetings to my house, on my own hours, which might also reduce the number of girls coming to something more personal and manageable. A few of my Senior 1 girls also approached me asking if they could write a song to present during National Memorial Week, and the plan is to start writing and practicing at my house this week. We'll see!

3. AMAZI-- Water! I've mentioned before that almost all the villages in my area (which basically means about a dozen villages spread across several miles of a ridge top) have no close water source. Everyone goes to get water from the valleys, which can be 30-90 minutes round trip, balancing heavy jugs of water back uphill on the head. There are many different valley springs, but only a few have good, clean water. The spring closest to me (about 50 minutes round trip) actually has clean water and an existing pipe and pump system connected to 5 pump wells among the ridge top villages, but the motor broke sometime before my arrival here, and everything has fallen into disrepair. Total costs for getting the system up and running again, and thereby allowing somewhere between 500-1,000 households to have a close source of clean water again, is about $3,000. I recently submitted a proposal, along with my new project conspirator (Simon, the father of one my S2 students, an incredibly motivated, insightful, and fluently English speaking man who has been of immeasurable help to me in the past few weeks), to our Sector Secretary (think big wig of our area) to get the officials and community members involved in bringing back the water. His response: "Good. We already have a plan to do just this. And the money. Thankyou." Which means a. Thanks, now mind your own business, b. Water is actually on its way!, or c. Water will someday...somehow....maybe...just make it to us...but there's no actual timeline for it. So, we wait on that, for now.

4. Young Mothers' Cooperative-- This is what has me really jazzed this week. Said Simon from above tells me he has an idea I might want to help him with. All ears. He has become aware of a large number of young girls and women who have had to drop out of school, both primary and secondary, due to unplanned pregnancies. These girls are now living at home (some got pregnant while away studying at boarding schools), husbandless, jobless, and with the responsibility of raising their children alone. Concerned for their well-being, and that of their children, Simon has located and contacted as many of these girls as he can find, inviting them to come to a meeting to discuss options for their futures. Am I interested? Not even a question. So, last Friday, we sat outside the secondary school at 2 pm, waiting to see who, if anyone, would show up. A little after 3, two girls and their toddlers arrive, a start. After another 30 minutes we're up to 6 girls and as many small children. And by 4:30 we have 23 mothers and 25 little ones, mothers ranging in age from 17 to 25 years old, and children from still in utero to 6 years old. It was nuts—screaming babies, toddlers stumbling around, and 23 eager young women discussing how they can work together to start a cooperative, gain job security, and better provide for their children. !!!! In a word, I’m stoked. This is the very very beginning, and I have no idea where this could lead, but I was absolutely floored that 23 girls came on such short notice, and am excited to see where they take this. We have another meeting next week, where they’ll elect some group leaders and focus in on a few specific ideas, discussing ways to get started. Simon and I want to provide support, but not run the show. Since this is the first time for all of us, we’ll just have to roll with it, but I’m excited!

5. ICYONGEREZA-- Community English classes. Also with Simon, I’m offering English lessons to any and all interested adults in the area, free minus minimal contributions to buy chalk. For the past year plus, adults everywhere I go ask me to teach them English, and I always say, sure, organize yourselves and tell me when, and I’ll be there. Nothing has ever happened but they still all ask, so I’m handing it to them. If there are any takers, great. If not, great, I really don’t need to add anything else to my schedule :-P Not my focus, but could be fun if there are a few interested, motivated adults. (Secondary school students here are the same as middle schoolers in America…“Studying? Make me!”)

BASI—The end. Am I forgetting anything? Probably, but that’s more than enough for now. Looking at some very busy, but hopefully very fulfilling and productive, last months here. If even one of these comes off well, I’ll be pretty happy!

Here are some pictures: My kiddies, shelling dried corn (corn harvesting season just came and went), and young mothers with their babies!

Thanks for reading, hope you are all well!

A year in review

The year mark has come and gone, and here are some of my thoughts, in no particular order, when I think back over the year.

Children. Everywhere, always. Sometimes welcome, sometimes driving me up the walls.

Bananas bananas bananas (food, primarily. things being nuts, secondarily)

Students crying out "Teacha! Teacha! It is too difficult!" HahaHA

Rain pouring down so hard it creates puddles throughout the house (or school) and makes being heard absolutely impossible (thus also making teaching absolutely impossible). If this happens at home, it can be amazing, not only for the peace but for the endless buckets of water to be obtained!

Long Rwandan ceremonies- weddings, funerals, meetings, church, doesn't matter. It will be long, and you will be sitting on a wooden bench the whole time. But there might be food after 6 or 7 hours!

Crammed into tiny buses. How many people can you fit in a 15 passenger van? At least twice that. Plus luggage.

The joy of a real shower, standing up with water pouring down from above. Hot or cold, doesn't matter, its glorious.

Cups of steaming African tea- milk, tea, spice, mmm.

The walls of my house covered, and I mean COVERED, in children's drawings.

The ridiculousness of Kinyarwanda. 16 noun classes, really?

Daily screams of "muzungu muzungu!" Come on, I've been here a year, you know my name.

Trekking down into the valley with the kids to get water, then struggling back uphill together.

Being a visitor in a new church and suddenly having to stand up and SING, in Kinyarwanda, with only 3 other people and a MICROPHONE in front of the ENTIRE church. And not knowing all the words :-P

Vacation. Camping in Uganda, 35 hours on a bus to Tanzania, lounging on the beaches of Zanzibar, eating street food...

Shocking the socks off of anyone who watches me cook American food. What in the world is she doing to do with those potatoes and that milk? She can't, NO, she's...mixing them??

Stomping the ground in wild, frenzied church dance parties

Fresh avocados and bananas whenever you want... bread and eggs a rarity

Explaining for the billionth time that Americans also farm, because we too must eat food, and no not every American is as rich as the ones you saw on that music video, we also have poor people. And no, they do not speak Kinyarwanda in America, but yes, I will try to teach it to them when I go back. And yes, there are many black people in America, and they are also Americans. And we have all the same kinds of foods as you, except for plaintains and cassava and sorghum. Oh and no banana beer, either. And in America its not nice to tell someone that they are fat, but thank you, I guess, you are also looking fat today.

....

I could go on and on but I need to get out of Kigali and back to my village, where all these wonderful and sometimes trying things happen, seemingly daily (except for the showers). I've been traveling a lot during this break, visiting the hometown of a student and fellow choir member of mine, seeing other volunteers, and going to Tanzania and Zanzibar. In the next month I hope to stay mostly in my village, playing with the kids, hopefully planting my garden at long last, singing those Kinyarwanda church songs, and visiting neighbors. I also need to finish writing my proposal to build two giant rainwater collection cisterns at the primary and secondary schools, try to get some bookshelves built for the school "library", and work on a curriculum for the coming school year. Phew, got my work cut out. And somehow there is only one more year left...yikes.

Peace and happy holidays, eat pumpkin goodness for me!

Si njyenyine (Not me alone)

Sometimes, reality smacks you in the face. Sometimes, you realize that you aren’t the strong, independent, confident foreigner living in a village in Rwanda that you had thought you were. Sometimes, you realize a small child has been carrying you the whole time.

I called Ani over and told her to get her jug, Ngiye kuvoma, turajyana? I’m going to get water, we are going together? She came running back a few minutes later, jug in one hand and an igitenge cloth wrapped around her neck, to use on our way back as a cushion for the heavy jug on her head. We set out, down the dirt road, onto the path, past the fields. Down that steep rocky hill where small children often slip or fall under the weight of the water, staggering back up with cuts on their hands or faces. Down down down.

At the well we waited our turn to fill our jugs with the fresh, clean groundwater flowing out of the broken pipeline. The pipeline that used to run into a huge storage tank, and was then pumped back up the hill to surrounding villages. The pipeline and pump system that has been sitting useless, growing old, for years, no one really remembers how many now, because the motor broke and no one came to fix it.

After we fitted the openings in our jugs with plaintains to keep the water from spilling out, made our ingato from our igitenge and swung our jugs up onto our heads, we set off. Up up up, carefully placing our feet on and between the rocks, slowly rising. I met some of my S2 girls along the way, carrying far more water than I could ever dream to do. We started chatting, and Ani fell behind with the smaller children. Up up up. Off the rocks and onto the red dirt path. Ani fell further behind, still with the other children. I paused at the place where the red dirt suddenly gives way to brown, and where the hill decreases its angle, becoming more of a slope. She was far below me now. I decided to continue on with my students. Off the path and onto the road. With all the curves and bushes in the way, she is nowhere to be seen. Home is so close, just up that last hill and slight curve in the road. I can see it now, past the idle cement well, the well where we would go to fetch water if the motor down the hill worked…

She finally arrives home about twenty minutes later. I call to her, and I know she hears me, but she doesn’t look or respond. Her older sister comes by and I tell her Ani is upset, arababara, she feels pain, because I left her behind on the hill. Mimi reassures me that its fine, and tells Ani to come over. Ngiye kugura imineke, urashaka kujyana? I’m going to buy bananas, do you want to go together? No response, no eye contact, but when I start walking away from the house, she follows. We proceed down the street, Ani always a few steps behind. I buy bananas, not a word. We turn back towards my house, not a word. Niba urababara, ntukeneye kujyananjye. If you are upset, you don’t have to go with me. She turns and walks away. I know I’ve made a mistake, but she’ll bounce back I think, she’s just a kid.

Twenty minutes later she’s at my door, and I think all is well. But no, she’s just asking if I want milk from their cow tonight. She turns to go, hesitates, starts to walk away. Ani ngwino, mbabarira. Ani come here, I’m sorry. Like coaxing a kid to take their medicine. Come here, I’m sorry. Don’t go. She finally submits, and we go into the house.

We sit silently for minutes and minutes. Ani stares straight ahead, lips tight, eyes vacant. I apologize, nothing. I ask what else is wrong, nothing. I give her a banana, nothing. Then suddenly a waterfall of quiet, rushed, mumbled Kinyarwanda. Small tears in her eyes, but she’s tough, she won’t let them grow and fall. She spends the next eternity telling me how I lied, I said we were going together, and then I went ahead. How sometimes I tell her she needs to go home. How sometimes, when other muzungus come to visit me, we don’t play with her enough. How we cook American food and don’t share it with her. I’m trying to keep up, trying to follow all that she’s saying, trying to defend myself because I do give her food, every single day, and because we did play with her and the other children when my friends came, and because I always share my American food with her. But I’m beat. She’s exaggerating yes, but she’s also only 6 years old, and there’s some truth to what she says. We could have played with her more, we could have given her more food. I could have waited for her on the hill.

Then, stone faced, she says she will never fetch water with me again. Sinzagenda kuvoma nawe. Sinzatembera nawe. Sinzasura abantu nawe. Sinzagaruka hano. I will not walk with you. I will not visit people with you. I will not return here.

I try to convince myself that she’s just upset, she’s just a kid, and tomorrow all this will be behind us. I know it will. But then I think, what if she’s not lying? What if she really never comes again? What if she hadn’t been here all along? And I have to walk away, hide in my dark room, because this little child’s words have made me cry. Because I suddenly envision the previous 8 months without my constant companion, friend, teacher, helper. I imagine going out every time, to visit people or to buy something or to get water, alone. No Ani holding my hand, teaching me the right words to say, correcting my hilarious Kinyarwanda, making me laugh, making me less nervous to go do new things, because I have my trusty little friend right by my side. She’s with me when the crazy old drunks try to capture me, she’s with me when I just want to listen to American music and do silly dances in the house without a dozen children grabbing my arms and hair. She was with me all during Genocide Memorial Week, so strong, keeping me going. She’s with me every day, we do everything together. When I go out without her, everyone aks, Anita ari hehe? Where is Anita?

I cry and I reflect and I realize that this amazing little girl has not only been holding my hand this whole time, she has been carrying me.

_______________________________________________________________________

We continued discussing, ate dinner, and she finally fell asleep on my bed as I made my lesson plans for the next day. The next morning, there she was outside the door, Julie bite?! Julie what’s up? She’s not leaving me behind, and I will do my best not to leave her behind again, either.

There is so so so much more I want to say, but I’m already late to a celebration. In short, things are quickly becoming busy here-- the water situation is my main concern, and I’m in the midst of trying to work out solutions, talking to villagers, the school, the health center, the higher ups, and an NGO in Kigali. More on that to come. School started up again, so I’m busy with teaching and making lessons. And of course visiting people, playing with the kids, seeing other volunteers…That’s all I’ve got for now, sorry for the lack of messages, and the abrupt end to this one!

Love to you all

Pictures to tide you over!!

…because I have so much in my mind and it has been so long, I know, that it cannot possibly be cohesive at the moment. So in truth you might never get the details of these months unless you ask for them J The main timeline goes something like this though: Returned from SA in time to give some slapdash exams, had several weeks of vacation from school in which I hung out with an awesome woman in my village quite a bit and participated in Genocide Memorial Week with my community (which was very intense in too many ways to put up here anyways, so you can ask me about it individually if you want), met up with the other volunteers in my group for a conference, got back to site and started teaching again, remembered just how hard teaching here really is, and experienced major house invasions by stinging ants (swarms, thousands, really) AND termites. Phew. If anything piques your interest, shoot me an email and I’ll do my best to get back to you!

So, in lieu of real news, here are a few more pictures of the village kids, the scenery around my house during rainy season, and my new good friend Mama Iradukunda (which means “Mama of God Loves Us”, her eldest child). I am super happy to have Mama Iradukunda and her whole family in my life, and they along with my 6 year old neighbor Anita pretty much make my life :) Enjoy!

MAIL!

I will get a real update out soon, ish...

But for now, here's my new mailing address. Please use this one from now on, otherwise I might not get whatever you send for, oh, maybe a year :-P

Julie Greene

Peace Corps Volunteer-Rwanda

BP 47

Rwamagana

RWANDA

Mini America, plus some

I'm not entirely sure where I've landed, some place called Pretoria, South Africa. For all intents and purposes, it looks like I'm back in America. Only, it's an America I've never really seen with my own eyes, only in movies and on TV. The America where people live in mini mansions and water their lawns every day and night and have high walls with fancy electric fences running along the top. The America where you never see your neighbors because there's too much protective gating all around. Where shiny shopping malls are filled with thousands of items you actually have no need for (machines to crack your eggs for you, glittering jewelry, thirty different kinds of soap...) all at exhorbetant prices. It's terrifying, really. We're not supposed to walk around by ourselves, especially at night, which seems ridiculous given the wealth of this area. But then you realize that right next door are the "rougher" parts of town, where people kill each other in broad daylight for a petty theft. Certainly a different scene than Rwanda, all around. The initial shock has started to wear off, as I've been here for 5 days now. I still relish in my hot shower and the breakfast served to me at the "guesthouse" that they put all the med evacs in, but I'm itching to get back to Rwanda and my village.

It is really interesting to see a part of South Africa though, and my curiosity about apartheid has been spiked. Our guesthouse is exactly what I've always imagined a colonial era white man's home in Africa to look like (I hope that makes sense?)...its Victorian to a T, lacy curtains and china dishes, manicured lawns and gardens, heavy dark wooden furniture, help staff wearing black dresses and white aprons and caps...you feel like you've stepped back in time. And I don't like it. Almost all the waitstaff or workers I've seen around here are African, and the owners are white. The white kid who drove me from the airport made several racist comments...its definitely a challenging environment. Obviously, this is a small, rich part of the country though, and quite different from the rural areas. I've gotten to talk to several SA volunteers while here, as well as volunteers from Zambia, Burkina Faso, and Swaziland, and problems in rural Africa are problems in rural Africa...there are certainly differences, but for the most part we're all facing similar challenges at site.

On the plus side, our PC doctor here took all the med evacs (who were able) on a "walking safari" over the weekend. It was funny because the reserve is smack between highways on two sides, and the city on one end, so from certain places you could hear cars flying by, or see tall buildings rising up, but it was GREAT to get out of our Victorian prison and walk around. We actually saw most of the wildlife the reserve has to offer too-- giraffes, zebras, impala, wildebeest, birds, etc. I've seen all of that before in the Serengeti, but the rules are a little different over here, and besides the fact that we weren't limited to our safari landrover, its also ok to "offtrail" it here...so we did our best to leave the footpaths and get as close in as we could :-P Our wonderful doctor guide also wisely advised us that if we bent down and acted like we were grazing, we might be able to get in even closer...of course we immediately took his advice, giving him quite the entertaining spectacle, but I do think we got a little closer...:-P I'll attach that picture for y'all, it makes me laugh.

Other than that, I'm just waiting to hear when I get to go back home to Rwanda. Since I only needed one root canal, I didn't expect to be here so long, but with the PC you never know!