Many problems here seem to stem not only from the many factors we were taught in grad school (poverty, lack of female education, etc.) but also the roles of men and women in society. In our area, the majority of people make what small money they have from farming, and women are expected to perform the brunt of the work. In addition to cooking, cleaning and raising the children, they are expected to do the planting, cultivating and harvesting as well. Men, if they work, prefer to do things like carpentry. More typically, they like to hang out and drink alcohol together (either beer brewed by companies such as Primus and Mutzig or the local banana beer.) While I was working in ARV services recently, one man who came in had a CD4 count of 75 because would get drunk and forget to take his ARVs. Polygamy, though illegal, is still a huge problem, especially when, as in one case, the man had HIV but refused to bring in any of his wives for testing. It is not uncommon for a man to have one wife in one village and another in another village. There are also many discordant relationships (the man is HIV+ but the wife is not or vice versa.) Though it is easier for women to contract HIV, I must admit there are many more discordant relationships in which the wife is positive and the man negative than I expected to see.
The other major concern insofar as HIV and AIDs are concerned in our region is PMTCT (or the lack thereof.) While the PMTCT (Prevention of Mother to Child Transmission) services are available and work when utilized, an alarming number of women refuse to have babies tested even if they themselves are on ART. The health clinic is in desperate need of a better catchment system for identifying at risk children, because even if the children come for immunizations and malnourishment testing, there is no means for identifying those exposed and testing them. Improving the number of HIV+ children on medicine therefore requires a two-part system: improved identification and catchment for testing of at risk children and education for their mothers to emphasize the importance of this testing.
Further complicating the issue is the risk of vaccinating HIV+ infants. A new study in South Africa (WHO, 2009) has found that giving HIV positive or potentially positive children the vaccine could make them more susceptible to a deadly form of TB. This is only the latest addition to the list of vaccines that are not recommended for HIV positive children, including Pneumococcal, MMR, Varciella, and Influenza. Identification of such HIV positive is even more critical now than ever in Rwanda because the country has recently begun an initiative making the Pneumococcal vaccine available for the first time (my own health center just started giving the vaccine out yesterday.)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Fourth of July
The first week in July is a big week for Rwanda…the first is Independence Day (aka independence from Belgium) and the fourth is Liberation Day (aka the end of the genocide). The weekend of the fourth was also a big deal in my village because two priests were being ordained (no small thing in a Catholic parish!) We, however, skipped all the festivities and headed out of the village with a group of muzungus from South Africa who, conveniently, have a car. On Saturday we went to the hot springs “near” us (aka you take the long dirt road to our village in a different director for a long, long time). Their location is pretty ridiculous because you drive from the fairly lush, well vegetated hills near Nyungwe Forest to an arid area full of mainly scrub bush. On the other side of a quarry, however, a well manicured park (complete with parking spots) appears out of nowhere with the springs in the middle. Mind you, along the way there were no signs to the springs, and without our (limited) grasp of the language we would never have found the place. The park is clearly used infrequently at best, because a group of muzungus pulling up drew a huge group of spectators, who then stuck around for the remainder of the day to see what the muzungus would do. We entertained by wading through the springs until they were too hot to bear, and settled down on the grass beside the springs to enjoy our cold Primus out of a cooler. Sunday we drove down to Lake Kivu for a more refreshing version of the day before.
Picture #10
Mosquito nets distributed to children at our clinic who have completed their schedule of vaccinations thanks to the President's Malaria Initiative.
Ntabwo ndi umuganga (I am not a nurse)
Work continues to mainly involve showing up once the morning meeting is done at the Health Center and asking “how can I help?” This has lead to varying results, as Ali has been shown a complicated birth and two dead fetuses, while typically the fare is much less exciting (and grotesque!) Unfortunately this also means I get saddled with such mundane tasks as counting pills in the pharmacy or recording names in the registry while a nurse draws blood for VCT (Voluntary Testing and Counseling), but it also gives me to the opportunity to watch and listen and ask questions. The stories of the couples coming in for VCT vary widely, and often tend towards the sad, like the woman who brought her granddaughter in for testing (both the girl’s parents had died.) The grandmother herself had had a tough life from the very beginning- her own parents had died when she was a baby, and she was deserted by a banana tree where a dog had eaten her toes and one of her thumbs. On the flip side, one of my favorite stories is about a couple in which the man had just recently been released from prison after 15 years. Given the time they had spent apart, the couple wanted to be tested before they slept together. No matter the reason for their separation, the joy in their eyes to be back together and to be told they were both negative was heartening to see.
Over the past couple of weeks, I finally got to meet all of the AIDS Relief (the organization I work for) staff in the region. The doctor in charge came to our clinic to check up on things and gave Ali and I a list of things to watch for at the clinic (ex. are certain procedures being followed when a HIV+ woman gives birth?) At the invitation of some of the staff, the Peace Corps Volunteers who work for AIDS Relief in our region spent the day with them in Cyangugu getting to know one another, swimming in the hotel pool, and enjoying fish brochette with a view of the DRC border.
Over the past couple of weeks, I finally got to meet all of the AIDS Relief (the organization I work for) staff in the region. The doctor in charge came to our clinic to check up on things and gave Ali and I a list of things to watch for at the clinic (ex. are certain procedures being followed when a HIV+ woman gives birth?) At the invitation of some of the staff, the Peace Corps Volunteers who work for AIDS Relief in our region spent the day with them in Cyangugu getting to know one another, swimming in the hotel pool, and enjoying fish brochette with a view of the DRC border.
Gusura (To Visit)
Part of the Peace Corps experience is getting out into the community and just generally being social. Recently I was yelled at for not visiting our neighbors more- it is the Rwandan culture to just drop on by from time to time– but I have had a hard time breaking out of the American mindset that you don’t visit unless expressly invited. One family in particular started visiting us quite a bit, and Ali and I would sit and play with the girls or feed them lollipops or paint their toenails red (all my doing.) We did so assuming that they were our second host family (we each have a host family at site, and we had only met one) but as it turns out they were just friendly neighbors. They live up on a hill, so one day after visiting them we decided to continue on and make the rounds, introducing ourselves and exploring the “neighborhood.” Since then we have continued to go back and hike further and further, discovering little clusters of houses and stores (even the term “village” seems too big for what they truly are) way off the beaten track.
Eventually we did meet our host family, a mama and papa and very newborn baby. They are farmers who built their house by themselves and generally seem to be good, genuine, hardworking people. (Can you say cliché?) We spent most of the time taking turns playing with the baby, and have already been invited to attend the baby’s baptism later on this month. Last week, the mama came over to teach us how to cook peanut sauce. By “us” I mean Ali was in the kitchen cooking with her and I was outside with the baby and another little girl trying to entertain them with Sesame Street books (in English) and bubbles.
Eventually we did meet our host family, a mama and papa and very newborn baby. They are farmers who built their house by themselves and generally seem to be good, genuine, hardworking people. (Can you say cliché?) We spent most of the time taking turns playing with the baby, and have already been invited to attend the baby’s baptism later on this month. Last week, the mama came over to teach us how to cook peanut sauce. By “us” I mean Ali was in the kitchen cooking with her and I was outside with the baby and another little girl trying to entertain them with Sesame Street books (in English) and bubbles.
Weddings and Madness
Weddings and madness aren’t typically two subjects one thinks of as going hand in hand, but my first invitation to a wedding also was my first glimpse into mental illness in my village. In Butare, mental illness was more apparent because the presence of rich foreigners allowed for a population to subsist on begging alone. In the more rural areas, communities generally band together to support those who cannot support themselves, removing such persons from the public eye.
In Rwanda, there are typically three “weddings”: the civil ceremony, the church ceremony, and the party. The couple getting married had actually been married (with kids) in the eyes of the Rwandese government for several years, but it takes a lot of money to pull off the party, so they waited until there were able to afford it. The party was held outside their house, between the banana trees and under a tarp that had been erected for the occasion. Underneath these tarps, wooden benches were set up, which we all crowded onto to wait for the bride and groom. After the church ceremony, the family processed back to the house (many of the family members carried gifts of food or drink on their heads as they walked), with the bride and groom bringing up the rear. The bride, as is common of brides in Rwanda, wore a gown that looked as though it came straight out of the 80s, with huge bubble sleeves and all. The party itself, once the bride and groom arrived, consisted of drinking (Fanta, Mutzig, and locally made banana beer), eating (rice, French fries, beans, and meat) and many, many speeches.
Throughout all of this, a mad woman had made herself at home on one of the benches, and insisted on greeting everyone with huge slaps and generally dancing around and causing a ruckus. In America, not only would she have been institutionalized, but even if she had been present at such an event, she would surely have been ignored by the guests. Here, however, she was smiled upon and given a plate of food. The only time she was talked to crossly at all was when she was told “not to bother the muzungus” (aka us.) For the most part, though, so she was simply allowed to be who she was and join in the festivities as she saw fit.
In Rwanda, there are typically three “weddings”: the civil ceremony, the church ceremony, and the party. The couple getting married had actually been married (with kids) in the eyes of the Rwandese government for several years, but it takes a lot of money to pull off the party, so they waited until there were able to afford it. The party was held outside their house, between the banana trees and under a tarp that had been erected for the occasion. Underneath these tarps, wooden benches were set up, which we all crowded onto to wait for the bride and groom. After the church ceremony, the family processed back to the house (many of the family members carried gifts of food or drink on their heads as they walked), with the bride and groom bringing up the rear. The bride, as is common of brides in Rwanda, wore a gown that looked as though it came straight out of the 80s, with huge bubble sleeves and all. The party itself, once the bride and groom arrived, consisted of drinking (Fanta, Mutzig, and locally made banana beer), eating (rice, French fries, beans, and meat) and many, many speeches.
Throughout all of this, a mad woman had made herself at home on one of the benches, and insisted on greeting everyone with huge slaps and generally dancing around and causing a ruckus. In America, not only would she have been institutionalized, but even if she had been present at such an event, she would surely have been ignored by the guests. Here, however, she was smiled upon and given a plate of food. The only time she was talked to crossly at all was when she was told “not to bother the muzungus” (aka us.) For the most part, though, so she was simply allowed to be who she was and join in the festivities as she saw fit.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Why can't Americans carry things on their head?
Why, beacause they have cars. Of course.
(These words of wisdom brought to you by the health center staff. Actual update coming soon.)
(These words of wisdom brought to you by the health center staff. Actual update coming soon.)
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Pentecost
Last Sunday was Pentecost, which is a huge deal in a town where pretty much everything is run by the Catholic Church (not to mention that 56.5% of Rwandans are Roman Catholic according to official numbers.) Since we got here, there has been a wooden frame structure next to the primary school that we have been curious about (it is for farming? for animals?) As we found out on Sunday, it is our village’s version of a stadium. On Sunday, tarps (including one from the UN’s World Food Programme) were laid over the top to protect from sun and rain, and all the church officials and local dignitaries sat under this outdoors enclosure. Down below this pseudo-stage, the church members were barricaded from the front by wooden fences much like an outdoor summer concert would have barricades to keep fans from rushing the stage (more than once, with all the dancing and singing, I felt like I was at a concert). While Pentecostals are known for their ridiculously long church services here, the normal Catholic service doesn’t last any longer than it would in the United States, but Pentecost is different. Sunday’s service stretched on for four hours, which made me thankful that I was on the stage with seating and shade. To combat the sun, a mass of rainbow-striped umbrellas were unfurled by the worshipers, creating quite the colorful spectacle. The stage itself, in addition to boasting seating for the who’s who of our village, included a choir clad in white robes, a group of followers to be confirmed (or at least what I think was confirmation), three acolytes in white and red robes and the alter itself. The entire place was decked out in full Pentecost decorations (white and red everywhere), including yellow flags with a red heart with a sword through it. The alter linens, bible, candles, and communion tools were much like that found in any Catholic church. As one would expect, there is no organ or keyboard here, BUT there were two electric guitars, a traditional drum, and a complete sound system that relayed the words of the priest as well as the choir’s songs to the people. Raised in the Episcopalian church, and given that much of the Episcopalian and Catholic service is the same, many elements and prayers were familiar to me (albeit in a different language), though the singing was much rowdier than I remember from any church service of my past. Markedly different than the traditional church service, though, were the communion and offering, during which huge containers of holy wafers (but no wine) and, in the case of the offering, huge woven baskets, were distributed to the people by over 20 alter helpers. This was mainly out of necessity, as the nuns later told us there were over 1,000 people there.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Swine Flu in Rwanda
Now that swine flu has safely been downgraded in the world news headlines (BBC radio tells me the top story nowadays is the reported Tamil Tiger defeat in Sri Lanka), I think it is finally safe to post that blog title. In fact, there is no such thing as swine flu in Rwanda. You can all relax now. BUT, despite the fact that no cases have been diagnosed or reported here (or even in our region), Peace Corps sent out Tamiflu to those of us in the Nyamasheke district. According to the messenger, because we are the most remote group, they didn’t feel they could get to us quickly enough in the event of an epidemic (don’t I feel safe) and therefore we get to be responsible for self-medication (with PCMO consultation, of course.) Take-home message: feeling blue? Get yourself some Tamiflu!
I’m kidding, of course. As the responsible pseudo-public health expert I am, I feel obliged to add that improper medicine consumption leads to all sorts of problems (including the emergence of drug-resistant strains.)
I’m kidding, of course. As the responsible pseudo-public health expert I am, I feel obliged to add that improper medicine consumption leads to all sorts of problems (including the emergence of drug-resistant strains.)
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Cyangugu
This past weekend we hitched a ride with our neighbors (the nuns) in the parish car into Cyangugu (also known as Kamembe), the only big town in the region. Along the way we met up with the other two Peace Corps volunteers in our region. Whereas the other big cities I have visited in Rwanda, Butare and Kigali, have both had a decidedly Western influence complete with “supermarkets” stocked with treats like potato chips and bars of chocolate, Cyangugu has nothing of the sort. There is a much more “we are out in the middle of nowhere and know it” feeling to Cyangugu, which is wonderful because it leads you to all sorts of odd little discoveries, but also means that the comforts of home are quite a trek away. As examples of the strange things that occurred while we were in Cyangugu, the first hotel we stopped in (the hotels in Rwanda always seem to have the best restaurants), we encountered a “Big Bass Billy” (you know, one of those mounted plastic fishes that sings) and then at the second hotel we were led through a mini fake forest to a wide cement expanse complete with three swing sets and a gorgeous view of Lake Kivu.
Site...Finally
My arrival at site has been a little more eventful than most because I ended up switching sites halfway through the first week at site. As I mentioned earlier, my site was supposed to be a tiny little umudugudu not that far from Kigali and right off the main paved road that connects Kigali and Butare. I met many wonderful people during my time there, including my host family and some of the health center staff, but for programmatic reasons the Peace Corps Rwanda staff decided to move me to the west of Rwanda.
The two sites are about as different as possible- my first site was close to Kigali, but without running water or electricity. My new site, located near Cyangugu and the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, is highly remote (in fact, the most remote Peace Corps site in Rwanda) but has both electricity and running water. While none of Rwanda is “flat”, we are truly in the mountains here, which provides for some spectacular views, including the vast tea fields along the dirt road that leads to our site. Our house is located at the very top of one such mountain and as we walk down the first hill every morning, I always get this strange sensation that the villagers must see us as the white people descending from their big house on the top of the hill like gods descending from Mount Olympus (with the appropriate amount of distain attached, of course.) To get to the health center, we have to walk by the primary school, which means that at the end of the day we often end up with a group of children tagging along behind us, and we always make sure to stop and say goodbye at the bottom of the hill. I will truly feel at home here once I can walk up that hill without getting winded!
I say “we” ” because I am living with another Peace Corps volunteer in this mansion on the top of a hill. Typically this is not acceptable in the Peace Corps- volunteers can’t live together unless they are a married couple, but it is my understanding that this site was once supposed to be for a couple and Peace Corps Rwanda decided it was remote enough that it made more sense for two volunteers to live here together. So when I pulled up after my brief stint at my first site my roommate had already been here for half a week. In fact, we have been playing a weird game of musical sites because the girl that was supposed to be her roommate was moved to a site out east when one of our two couples went home. My roommate and I are strangely similar- she is a vegetarian too, is an MI getting her MPH, and she and I share the same birthday. Crazy, right? Our main focus at the moment is finding a wait to create separate health jobs in a small community. We tried to arrange a meeting to create two separate job descriptions, but they ended up simply telling us to split a list of health topics. As a result, I am responsible for HIV and AIDS, malaria, and nutrition. Easy task.
Thus far, we have been conducting a community needs assessment (a fancy title for getting to know the people around us and determining the biggest health concerns) and teaching English to the staff at the health center. They learn quickly- during yesterday’s lesson (time) I taught them the vocab for early, late, and on time, so when one of the staff walked in late, they are made sure to tell him he was late. We fill out our days with trips to the market and cooking our own food (in Rwanda, it is typical for each house to have a cook.) Strangely, we seem to be getting worse at bargaining, though with avocados for the equivalent of about ten cents how can one complain?
The two sites are about as different as possible- my first site was close to Kigali, but without running water or electricity. My new site, located near Cyangugu and the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, is highly remote (in fact, the most remote Peace Corps site in Rwanda) but has both electricity and running water. While none of Rwanda is “flat”, we are truly in the mountains here, which provides for some spectacular views, including the vast tea fields along the dirt road that leads to our site. Our house is located at the very top of one such mountain and as we walk down the first hill every morning, I always get this strange sensation that the villagers must see us as the white people descending from their big house on the top of the hill like gods descending from Mount Olympus (with the appropriate amount of distain attached, of course.) To get to the health center, we have to walk by the primary school, which means that at the end of the day we often end up with a group of children tagging along behind us, and we always make sure to stop and say goodbye at the bottom of the hill. I will truly feel at home here once I can walk up that hill without getting winded!
I say “we” ” because I am living with another Peace Corps volunteer in this mansion on the top of a hill. Typically this is not acceptable in the Peace Corps- volunteers can’t live together unless they are a married couple, but it is my understanding that this site was once supposed to be for a couple and Peace Corps Rwanda decided it was remote enough that it made more sense for two volunteers to live here together. So when I pulled up after my brief stint at my first site my roommate had already been here for half a week. In fact, we have been playing a weird game of musical sites because the girl that was supposed to be her roommate was moved to a site out east when one of our two couples went home. My roommate and I are strangely similar- she is a vegetarian too, is an MI getting her MPH, and she and I share the same birthday. Crazy, right? Our main focus at the moment is finding a wait to create separate health jobs in a small community. We tried to arrange a meeting to create two separate job descriptions, but they ended up simply telling us to split a list of health topics. As a result, I am responsible for HIV and AIDS, malaria, and nutrition. Easy task.
Thus far, we have been conducting a community needs assessment (a fancy title for getting to know the people around us and determining the biggest health concerns) and teaching English to the staff at the health center. They learn quickly- during yesterday’s lesson (time) I taught them the vocab for early, late, and on time, so when one of the staff walked in late, they are made sure to tell him he was late. We fill out our days with trips to the market and cooking our own food (in Rwanda, it is typical for each house to have a cook.) Strangely, we seem to be getting worse at bargaining, though with avocados for the equivalent of about ten cents how can one complain?
Swearing-In and Vacation at the Lake House
Sadly, we have left Butare and Pre-Service Training (PST) behind and are now full-on PCVs. Most PCVs are thrilled to be out of staging, but because we were so spoiled and surrounded by muzungus, it is hard for many of us to move beyond the honeymoon phase. It is time to deal with the reality of being on our own in a foreign land, with new jobs to do in a language that we only kind of sort of know the very basics of.
The swearing-in ceremony, held at the ambassador’s house (the ambassador from the United States of America to Rwanda, not to be confused with the ambassador from Rwanda to the United States of America), was high-class all the way, from mini quiches to the US seal on the cutlery and china. All sorts of Rwandan dignitaries were there, including the Minister of Education, and all manner of Rwandan press. Later that night, we were on Rwandan television in all three language formats: English, French, and Kinyarwanda. In fact, when I was in Kigali I was trying to buy a part for our gas stove in a hardware store in Kinyarwanda and the guy asked me if I was one of the “ones who are trying to learn Kinyarwanda and the Rwandan culture” because he had seen us on TV. The program included a speech by one of our own in English, a much-practiced speech by two of our group in Kinyarwanda (part of which was aired on TV) , and speeches by the Ambassador and Country Director. Honestly, as a true Peace Corps volunteer, I found the most exciting part of it all was the good food: mini pizzas, homemade cookies, and freshly squeezed juice. This was all followed by the requisite group photo session, in which, despite the million and one pictures, we failed to take a picture in which we were all looking at the camera (see picture.)
To celebrate our new status as official Peace Corps volunteers, the Peace Corps Rwanda staff put together a nice little outing for us to Lake Muhazi, a lake in the Eastern province of Rwanda. The house and property on the lake are actually all owned by the US Embassy so we were accompanied by four of the ten US Marines that guard the Embassy. The Marines had a tiny little blow-up motor boat that they used to take people wakeboarding on the lake. Talk about a scene that doesn’t belong on a lake in the middle of Rwanda, especially when to get to the lake you have to drive by huge demobilization and reintegration centers. The rest of the day was spent drinking Primus on the shore and throwing around a football (turns out, even in Rwanda, it is handy to have two brothers that force you to learn such things.)
The swearing-in ceremony, held at the ambassador’s house (the ambassador from the United States of America to Rwanda, not to be confused with the ambassador from Rwanda to the United States of America), was high-class all the way, from mini quiches to the US seal on the cutlery and china. All sorts of Rwandan dignitaries were there, including the Minister of Education, and all manner of Rwandan press. Later that night, we were on Rwandan television in all three language formats: English, French, and Kinyarwanda. In fact, when I was in Kigali I was trying to buy a part for our gas stove in a hardware store in Kinyarwanda and the guy asked me if I was one of the “ones who are trying to learn Kinyarwanda and the Rwandan culture” because he had seen us on TV. The program included a speech by one of our own in English, a much-practiced speech by two of our group in Kinyarwanda (part of which was aired on TV) , and speeches by the Ambassador and Country Director. Honestly, as a true Peace Corps volunteer, I found the most exciting part of it all was the good food: mini pizzas, homemade cookies, and freshly squeezed juice. This was all followed by the requisite group photo session, in which, despite the million and one pictures, we failed to take a picture in which we were all looking at the camera (see picture.)
To celebrate our new status as official Peace Corps volunteers, the Peace Corps Rwanda staff put together a nice little outing for us to Lake Muhazi, a lake in the Eastern province of Rwanda. The house and property on the lake are actually all owned by the US Embassy so we were accompanied by four of the ten US Marines that guard the Embassy. The Marines had a tiny little blow-up motor boat that they used to take people wakeboarding on the lake. Talk about a scene that doesn’t belong on a lake in the middle of Rwanda, especially when to get to the lake you have to drive by huge demobilization and reintegration centers. The rest of the day was spent drinking Primus on the shore and throwing around a football (turns out, even in Rwanda, it is handy to have two brothers that force you to learn such things.)
Bicycles and Brunch in Butare
On our last Sunday in Butare, a group of us went out to our favorite brunch spot- Hotel Ibis. Though Hotel Ibis has a storied past- it was built during Belgian colonial times and was once used by the interahamwe as headquarters- today’s Hotel Ibis is a muzungu hangout that provides the best people watching and breakfast in town. To be honest, I am sure that we would all be thrilled for any semi-American breakfast food, but the omelettes and French toast at Ibis really are fantastic. This particular Sunday morning, as we sat there remising about our eleven weeks in Butare, the Rwandan national cycling team road by. As the true triathlete that I am, I sat there and gawked, spinning my head as they went back and forth down the main street of Butare. Instead, I abandoned all attempts at following the conversation and imagined myself on my Cervelo following them over the hills of Rwanda. I suppose traversing the dirt roads on my Trek mountain bike will have to do. If riding the hills of Nepal doing aid work can help Chrissie Wellington become the triathlete she is today, just maybe it might do a little something for me too.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
April Fool's Day, Dancing Wizards and All
At times, our training resembles a sleep away camp for 20-somethings, with our centralized living quarters, family-style meals, and communal bathrooms (not to mention ghost story nights.) However, this was never more true than when the April Fool’s jokes started with someone stealing the bell (really a piece of metal that we hit with rocks) that summons us to class each morning. The jokes continued with us switching classes before the teachers got there, though the joke was, in the end, on us, because the teachers just continued teaching class as though nothing was amiss. Our class was particularly into the April Fool’s jokes, so when one of our members went to the bathroom, we naturally hid her notebook in the rafters of our little classroom hut and her water bottle in the bush outside. Halfway through class, the gardener came along and started pruning the bush, completely oblivious to the water bottle, which remained hidden.
The day got even better when one of our language classes was dedicated to discussing dancing wizards…in
Graduation Day
When you think of graduation, especially college graduation, in the
A Presentation or an Earthquake?
I’ve experience a tornado, a hurricane, and many a blizzard back in the
Monday, March 23, 2009
Pizza for 60 and Miss America
After the sobering realities of my site visit and accompanying blog entry, I figured it was time for a more lighthearted entry on some of the more humorous experiences I have had in Rwanda thus far.
One of the reoccurring themes, every time I go to visit my resource family here in Butare, is Miss America as a topic of conversation. Inevitably, we begin with a discussion on what shapes and looks are attractive in Rwanda and in America, and from there it diverges to the stereotypical American beauty standard of skinny Miss America. My family constantly asks me questions about the official requirements for becoming Miss America, the moral standards necessary to fulfill the role of Miss America, and the general public’s view of Miss America. I haven’t had the heart to tell them that in recent years many pageant contestants have come under fire for their public behavior or that a good portion of American society finds Miss America at the very least silly and irrelevant. If their aim is to encourage me to pursue a Miss America crown, I’m afraid that window of time has come and gone.
The meeting of American and Rwandan culture got even stranger this week when our training director asked a group of us to make pizza for a “pizza party” to celebrate being back at the convent. Interestingly enough, this fell on a day when the convent, which usually boasts the luxuries of running water and electricity, had neither. We began with a trip to the market in Butare, which consists of a series of permanent stalls dedicated to everything from kerosene to avocados to shoes. Six muzungukazi (white girls) walking into this hodgepodge of goods caused quite the stir, and was only increased when they realized the vast quantities of food we needed (30 avocados, 20 bags of flour…you get the idea.) If our time at the market was a series of errors, between the failed bargaining and the smashed avocados all over the Peace Corps car, our actual cooking adventure was a comedy of errors. Everything had to be cooked from scratch, including the dough, which was made by three volunteers who squatted around a large pot and kneaded the dough by pounding it with their fists. I was lucky enough to draw the cheese straw, and was given the task of grating seven wheels of cheese (small blessings- there actually was a grater!) The entire adventure took us eight hours, and finished with us in the kitchen in the dark, pulling pizzas out of the wood-fueled stove long after the 60 people we were feeding were stuffed full of pizza (and guacamole which, it turns out, goes wonderfully with pizza.)
One of the reoccurring themes, every time I go to visit my resource family here in Butare, is Miss America as a topic of conversation. Inevitably, we begin with a discussion on what shapes and looks are attractive in Rwanda and in America, and from there it diverges to the stereotypical American beauty standard of skinny Miss America. My family constantly asks me questions about the official requirements for becoming Miss America, the moral standards necessary to fulfill the role of Miss America, and the general public’s view of Miss America. I haven’t had the heart to tell them that in recent years many pageant contestants have come under fire for their public behavior or that a good portion of American society finds Miss America at the very least silly and irrelevant. If their aim is to encourage me to pursue a Miss America crown, I’m afraid that window of time has come and gone.
The meeting of American and Rwandan culture got even stranger this week when our training director asked a group of us to make pizza for a “pizza party” to celebrate being back at the convent. Interestingly enough, this fell on a day when the convent, which usually boasts the luxuries of running water and electricity, had neither. We began with a trip to the market in Butare, which consists of a series of permanent stalls dedicated to everything from kerosene to avocados to shoes. Six muzungukazi (white girls) walking into this hodgepodge of goods caused quite the stir, and was only increased when they realized the vast quantities of food we needed (30 avocados, 20 bags of flour…you get the idea.) If our time at the market was a series of errors, between the failed bargaining and the smashed avocados all over the Peace Corps car, our actual cooking adventure was a comedy of errors. Everything had to be cooked from scratch, including the dough, which was made by three volunteers who squatted around a large pot and kneaded the dough by pounding it with their fists. I was lucky enough to draw the cheese straw, and was given the task of grating seven wheels of cheese (small blessings- there actually was a grater!) The entire adventure took us eight hours, and finished with us in the kitchen in the dark, pulling pizzas out of the wood-fueled stove long after the 60 people we were feeding were stuffed full of pizza (and guacamole which, it turns out, goes wonderfully with pizza.)
“This Is Africa”: My Site Visit
As part of Pre-Service Training in the Peace Corps, typically every trainee goes to visit his or her site. If you aren’t the first group (like us), you go with the Peace Corps volunteer that had the post before you and they introduce you to the ropes at your new site. For us, however, we were given a counterpart who was to give us our first introduction to the places we will soon call home.
My site is in a tiny village between Kigali and Butare, although it is a completely different universe from either city. This little village is home to a bank, a prison, several schools and a health center that serves a population of over 46,000 people. There are no electrical lines to the village and there is a significant water shortage in the region, so both electricity and water are going to be conveniences I will need to learn to do without over the next two years. While there, my job will entail working with Twubakane (Kinyarwanda for “let’s build together”), which is an organization formed with the Government of Rwanda, USAID, and other NGOs and health care providers, and the health center to do community outreach and education on a variety of subjects: hygiene, nutrition, sanitation, vaccinations, family planning, pre and post-natal care, HIV/AIDS, insecticide-treated nets (ITNs) for malaria, etc.
The story that bests illustrates my time at site begins in the home of the family with whom I was staying as they don’t yet have a house for me in the village. My host dad invited over a couple of his friends who spoke both English and French to help me translate my job description since it was written in French. When we began translating, the lights were still on thanks to the solar panels on the top of their house that provide a limited amount of electricity each day. However, a couple minutes in, the lights went out and all parties involved whipped out flashlights and leaned in to continue working. As I sat there giggling at the immense energy involved in this one task- six adults huddled around a sheet of paper in the dark, both illuminating and translating- one of the guys remarked “this is Africa.” This IS Africa, and as a result everything I do will take longer and be more difficult than I ever anticipated BUT, if I can gain the support and trust of my community, all those goals outlined in my job description just might be possible.
My site is in a tiny village between Kigali and Butare, although it is a completely different universe from either city. This little village is home to a bank, a prison, several schools and a health center that serves a population of over 46,000 people. There are no electrical lines to the village and there is a significant water shortage in the region, so both electricity and water are going to be conveniences I will need to learn to do without over the next two years. While there, my job will entail working with Twubakane (Kinyarwanda for “let’s build together”), which is an organization formed with the Government of Rwanda, USAID, and other NGOs and health care providers, and the health center to do community outreach and education on a variety of subjects: hygiene, nutrition, sanitation, vaccinations, family planning, pre and post-natal care, HIV/AIDS, insecticide-treated nets (ITNs) for malaria, etc.
The story that bests illustrates my time at site begins in the home of the family with whom I was staying as they don’t yet have a house for me in the village. My host dad invited over a couple of his friends who spoke both English and French to help me translate my job description since it was written in French. When we began translating, the lights were still on thanks to the solar panels on the top of their house that provide a limited amount of electricity each day. However, a couple minutes in, the lights went out and all parties involved whipped out flashlights and leaned in to continue working. As I sat there giggling at the immense energy involved in this one task- six adults huddled around a sheet of paper in the dark, both illuminating and translating- one of the guys remarked “this is Africa.” This IS Africa, and as a result everything I do will take longer and be more difficult than I ever anticipated BUT, if I can gain the support and trust of my community, all those goals outlined in my job description just might be possible.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
“Field Trips”: My Experiences at Health Clinics and other Institutions in Rwanda
Over the course of the past couple weeks, our Peace Corps group has been visiting nearby health-related institutions in order to gain further technical information and to get our first glimpse of the facilities available to Rwandans.
Our first visit was, in small groups, one of six nearby health clinics. My group went to a health clinic outside of Butare that offers a comprehensive range of services, from basic consultations and pharmaceutical services, to voluntary counseling and testing (VCT), family planning, and even health education seminars. The health clinic was almost more of a health campus, with separate buildings for the different areas of service. The health system structure in Rwanda works such that, if you have health insurance, you pay a flat fee akin to a co-pay, but this pays for both the consultation and any If you are given a prescription in your consultation, you simply stand in line at the pharmacy window (located in the same building as your consultation) and wait for you medicine. Severe cases are referred further up the system, and in the case of this clinic, are typically taken to the University of Rwanda hospital in Butare, one of the best hospitals in Rwanda. While we were there, we saw a women get in an ambulance holding an IV in one hand. Also while at the health clinic, we saw a mother who had just had a baby that morning. She was lying in one bed and the baby, tiny as could be with huge brown eyes, was wrapped (almost swallowed) in a blanket on the bed next to her. Meanwhile, the father of the baby lurked around outside their room, fetching water and looking as proud as could be. Rwandan hospitals differ from hospitals in the United States in that the hospitals don’t feed their patients- the patient’s family members are required to bring and cook them food. Often, too, the bulk of caring for the non-health essential needs of the patient falls on the family members.
In addition to the health clinic, we visited both an orphanage for OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children) and a women’s center this week. Orphanages are always a tough place to visit, no matter where you are. It seems as though orphanages are the stereotypical place that foreigners visit in Africa, thinking that they can somehow help by holding or playing with the children- perhaps they are helping in the moment, but in the long run, they simply serve to crush the hopes of the children in the orphanage and don’t create any sort of sustainable change for the orphanage. I think orphanages are difficult because ideally all OVCs should be placed with a family, but this just isn’t reality. While Rwandan families do often take in orphans, as we have found within many of our resource families, often those are extended family members instead of just children off the street. At the orphanage we visited yesterday, one of the children was a two week old baby who had just been abandoned on the street and had been brought to the orphanage by the police.
One of the major differences between Rwandan and American children, orphans or non-orphans, is the degree to which they are independent from a young age. In the orphanage, the older children (four or five year olds) were looking after the younger children. A baby who was crawling all over the floor almost crawled out the door and down the stairs several times while we were there, and each time one of the older children ran over, picked the baby up, and set it back down in the middle of the room. As one of the other trainees noted, in America the older children would be just as likely to push the baby down the stairs as to look after it. The orphanage we visited had very little structure for the young children not in school- they had no schedule activities or really any toys to play with (at least none that we saw.) Instead, they just play together and take care of those even younger than them. The one thing that did pleasantly surprise us about the orphanage was that they are truly a family- the nun in charge of the orphanage still counts many of the orphans who have gone on to university as those still living in the orphanage, and the children are never kicked out at a certain age (i.e. 16 or 18), but when they are capable of leaving and living independently.
At the women’s center, we were equally impressed with the training and the comprehensive portfolio of services offered, from psychosocial services to voluntary counseling and testing (VCT). They serve almost 2000 women in the surrounding districts, including a separate back building with private offices and gorgeous views for counseling and a whole host of counseling groups (vulnerable women, widows, sex workers, HIV positive women, etc.) As with many organizations in Rwanda right now, their services are essential part of what differentiates Rwanda from so many other countries in which the AIDS epidemic has flourished, yet they face a downward turn in aid from foreign NGOs, both as a result of the global economic crisis and more demanding problems elsewhere in the world.
Our first visit was, in small groups, one of six nearby health clinics. My group went to a health clinic outside of Butare that offers a comprehensive range of services, from basic consultations and pharmaceutical services, to voluntary counseling and testing (VCT), family planning, and even health education seminars. The health clinic was almost more of a health campus, with separate buildings for the different areas of service. The health system structure in Rwanda works such that, if you have health insurance, you pay a flat fee akin to a co-pay, but this pays for both the consultation and any If you are given a prescription in your consultation, you simply stand in line at the pharmacy window (located in the same building as your consultation) and wait for you medicine. Severe cases are referred further up the system, and in the case of this clinic, are typically taken to the University of Rwanda hospital in Butare, one of the best hospitals in Rwanda. While we were there, we saw a women get in an ambulance holding an IV in one hand. Also while at the health clinic, we saw a mother who had just had a baby that morning. She was lying in one bed and the baby, tiny as could be with huge brown eyes, was wrapped (almost swallowed) in a blanket on the bed next to her. Meanwhile, the father of the baby lurked around outside their room, fetching water and looking as proud as could be. Rwandan hospitals differ from hospitals in the United States in that the hospitals don’t feed their patients- the patient’s family members are required to bring and cook them food. Often, too, the bulk of caring for the non-health essential needs of the patient falls on the family members.
In addition to the health clinic, we visited both an orphanage for OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children) and a women’s center this week. Orphanages are always a tough place to visit, no matter where you are. It seems as though orphanages are the stereotypical place that foreigners visit in Africa, thinking that they can somehow help by holding or playing with the children- perhaps they are helping in the moment, but in the long run, they simply serve to crush the hopes of the children in the orphanage and don’t create any sort of sustainable change for the orphanage. I think orphanages are difficult because ideally all OVCs should be placed with a family, but this just isn’t reality. While Rwandan families do often take in orphans, as we have found within many of our resource families, often those are extended family members instead of just children off the street. At the orphanage we visited yesterday, one of the children was a two week old baby who had just been abandoned on the street and had been brought to the orphanage by the police.
One of the major differences between Rwandan and American children, orphans or non-orphans, is the degree to which they are independent from a young age. In the orphanage, the older children (four or five year olds) were looking after the younger children. A baby who was crawling all over the floor almost crawled out the door and down the stairs several times while we were there, and each time one of the older children ran over, picked the baby up, and set it back down in the middle of the room. As one of the other trainees noted, in America the older children would be just as likely to push the baby down the stairs as to look after it. The orphanage we visited had very little structure for the young children not in school- they had no schedule activities or really any toys to play with (at least none that we saw.) Instead, they just play together and take care of those even younger than them. The one thing that did pleasantly surprise us about the orphanage was that they are truly a family- the nun in charge of the orphanage still counts many of the orphans who have gone on to university as those still living in the orphanage, and the children are never kicked out at a certain age (i.e. 16 or 18), but when they are capable of leaving and living independently.
At the women’s center, we were equally impressed with the training and the comprehensive portfolio of services offered, from psychosocial services to voluntary counseling and testing (VCT). They serve almost 2000 women in the surrounding districts, including a separate back building with private offices and gorgeous views for counseling and a whole host of counseling groups (vulnerable women, widows, sex workers, HIV positive women, etc.) As with many organizations in Rwanda right now, their services are essential part of what differentiates Rwanda from so many other countries in which the AIDS epidemic has flourished, yet they face a downward turn in aid from foreign NGOs, both as a result of the global economic crisis and more demanding problems elsewhere in the world.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
There are how many noun classes?!
Life continues here at the convent. We are currently on our third week, having been inundated with language classes and a sprinkling of technical health and cross-cultural training. The bulk of my time is spent in a small thatched hut, repeating words that contain more a’s, b’s, and u’s than I thought was humanly possible. The language seems at least somewhat straight forward until you learn, as we did today, that there are 16 noun classes, and all associated adjectives must be conjugated accordingly. Rumor has it that Kinyarwanda is one of the hardest languages in the world, second only to Mandarin. Like any language, the words of the language tell you what is important to the culture (like the Inuit and their numerous words for snow.) For example, when a baby is born in Kinyarwanda, one expresses “niyonkwe” (“I wish you to nurse well”) to the mother. This is meant not only for the baby’s health and nutrition, but also for the mother’s sake.
We will continue to spend the greatest proportion of our time focusing on language through the sixth week of pre-service training (PST), when we make our initial visits to our sites, because that will truly be the key to making a difference in the health of our communities, especially in the rural areas where they only speak Kinyarwanda. If you can’t communicate with someone, how are you going to tell them the importance of washing their hands or staying on the ARV regimen prescribed?
Outside of class, I have started visiting our resource families. Fortunately and unfortunately for me, several of my resource family members speak English very well. For the first few visits, this has been great because they have served as an important source of cross-cultural information, but my terrible pronunciation means that I definitely should be spending more time speaking Kinyarwanda with them. On Sunday, the family taught me the traditional Rwandan dance, though they claimed I looked more like I was driving a cow than imitating it. Here the dances are more than just dances, they are a means of communication: women dance as though to mimic a cow and men’s dance moves resemble the fighting of a battle.
I have also been exploring Butare through runs, hikes, and other excursions. Butare consists of one main paved road leading to the university, along which shops, internet cafes, and hotels serve as a backdrop for the hustle and bustle of the town. Just a turn off the paved main road, however, you come face to face with cows and herds of goats. Though we still get stares and the occasional “muzungu” (white person), life has become so routine that I often forget I have only been here a couple of weeks. Amazing how quickly we adapt!
I finally have a Rwandan cell phone, so if you don’t have the number and need it let me know.
We will continue to spend the greatest proportion of our time focusing on language through the sixth week of pre-service training (PST), when we make our initial visits to our sites, because that will truly be the key to making a difference in the health of our communities, especially in the rural areas where they only speak Kinyarwanda. If you can’t communicate with someone, how are you going to tell them the importance of washing their hands or staying on the ARV regimen prescribed?
Outside of class, I have started visiting our resource families. Fortunately and unfortunately for me, several of my resource family members speak English very well. For the first few visits, this has been great because they have served as an important source of cross-cultural information, but my terrible pronunciation means that I definitely should be spending more time speaking Kinyarwanda with them. On Sunday, the family taught me the traditional Rwandan dance, though they claimed I looked more like I was driving a cow than imitating it. Here the dances are more than just dances, they are a means of communication: women dance as though to mimic a cow and men’s dance moves resemble the fighting of a battle.
I have also been exploring Butare through runs, hikes, and other excursions. Butare consists of one main paved road leading to the university, along which shops, internet cafes, and hotels serve as a backdrop for the hustle and bustle of the town. Just a turn off the paved main road, however, you come face to face with cows and herds of goats. Though we still get stares and the occasional “muzungu” (white person), life has become so routine that I often forget I have only been here a couple of weeks. Amazing how quickly we adapt!
I finally have a Rwandan cell phone, so if you don’t have the number and need it let me know.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Umukorerabushake wa Peace Corps
Mwiriwe (greetings) from Butare! The title above means "Peace Corps volunteer," though I suppose I am only technically an "umustaygeri."
I safely arrived in Rwanda last Thursday and spent several days in Kigali (the capital of Rwanda) going through introductions and getting injected with shot after shot. Kigali appeared almost as a Western city transplanted into the heart of Africa, complete with (almost) everything you could ever want- from coffee shops to malls. No, no Starbucks and (amazingly enough) no McDonald's- thank goodness!
After several days in Kigali, we made the journey by bus to Butare, the second largest city in Rwanda. The infrastruture in Rwanda is phenomenol- erase any thoughts of the typical unpaved roads you envision when you think of Africa. However, Rwanda's name of "land of a thousand hills" really couldn't be any more accurate- you either seem to be going up a hill or back down it. Thus the roads too go up and down and wind around and back again. I went for my first run yesterday and I was exhausted after only 18 minutes, between the altitude and all the hills. So much for my endurance, although if I keep this up I could rock Boston by the time I get back!
Typically, Peace Corps volunteers stay with a host family during training, which is their first 10-12 weeks of service where they learn a language, the culture, and go through technical training. Because we are the first Peace Corps group back in Rwanda since 1994, however, we are staying in a convent and just visiting our "resource families" every week. We have been so pampered by the nuns- they feed us all our meals and even do our laundry. It is great, though, because we are all exhausted from all the Kinyarwanda lessons. Should be an interesting transition to living on our own, especially since I requested a rural site!
I hope to have a phone soon once the network straightens out- Rwanda just added a number to all their telephone numbers, so many of the phones people bought aren't working. In the meantime, please please please email me (or keep emailing me if you have already.) It really makes a world of difference to open my inbox and see all your emails.
I safely arrived in Rwanda last Thursday and spent several days in Kigali (the capital of Rwanda) going through introductions and getting injected with shot after shot. Kigali appeared almost as a Western city transplanted into the heart of Africa, complete with (almost) everything you could ever want- from coffee shops to malls. No, no Starbucks and (amazingly enough) no McDonald's- thank goodness!
After several days in Kigali, we made the journey by bus to Butare, the second largest city in Rwanda. The infrastruture in Rwanda is phenomenol- erase any thoughts of the typical unpaved roads you envision when you think of Africa. However, Rwanda's name of "land of a thousand hills" really couldn't be any more accurate- you either seem to be going up a hill or back down it. Thus the roads too go up and down and wind around and back again. I went for my first run yesterday and I was exhausted after only 18 minutes, between the altitude and all the hills. So much for my endurance, although if I keep this up I could rock Boston by the time I get back!
Typically, Peace Corps volunteers stay with a host family during training, which is their first 10-12 weeks of service where they learn a language, the culture, and go through technical training. Because we are the first Peace Corps group back in Rwanda since 1994, however, we are staying in a convent and just visiting our "resource families" every week. We have been so pampered by the nuns- they feed us all our meals and even do our laundry. It is great, though, because we are all exhausted from all the Kinyarwanda lessons. Should be an interesting transition to living on our own, especially since I requested a rural site!
I hope to have a phone soon once the network straightens out- Rwanda just added a number to all their telephone numbers, so many of the phones people bought aren't working. In the meantime, please please please email me (or keep emailing me if you have already.) It really makes a world of difference to open my inbox and see all your emails.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
His Excellency Wants to Party With You
I'm sitting in the airport waiting for my plane to Brussels to take off. It has been a whirlwind couple of days in DC and somehow the long blog entry I had planned never happened. Needless to say, the last couple of days included a yellow fever shot, an invitation to go out dancing in Kigali with the Rwandan ambassador to the US, and getting to know my future BFFs. Departure day is upon us.
For those of you back in the US, adieu!
For those of you back in the US, adieu!
Monday, January 12, 2009
I Guess I Can't Be in Denial Anymore...
I officially hit the two weeks mark until I leave for Rwanda as part of the first Peace Corps group in the country since 1993, so I guess it is time for my first post. I first found out I was headed to Rwanda in June (yes June...LONG before I was scheduled to leave and completely unusual for the Peace Corps) and thought it was possible this day might never come. Originally, the program was slated to leave on December 5th, which was then pushed back to January 16th, and now I leave for DC on January 26th. After several days of staging, I will fly from DC to Brussels to Kigali. Eventually, I will be training in Butare, the intellectual capital of Rwanda and home of the National University of Rwanda.
So what am I going to be doing for the next 27 months in Rwanda? Good question. For now, what I know:
Program: Health, HIV/AIDS, Organizational Capacity Development
Job Title: Public Health Education Advisor
Not so much, huh? I do know that I will be learning a new language (Kinyarwanda), living a new culture, and embedding myself as completely as possible within my new community. Clearly I am going to gain more than I could ever give.
So what am I going to be doing for the next 27 months in Rwanda? Good question. For now, what I know:
Program: Health, HIV/AIDS, Organizational Capacity Development
Job Title: Public Health Education Advisor
Not so much, huh? I do know that I will be learning a new language (Kinyarwanda), living a new culture, and embedding myself as completely as possible within my new community. Clearly I am going to gain more than I could ever give.
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