African Tea - To Go!

The best part of being back in America? My hot beverage to-go cup. At first I balked at the thought of putting all the time in to a travel cup of African Tea, since I prefer a whole pot full when I make it.

However, many early morning teaching sessions have inspired me to perfect the to-go African Tea and now I'm sharing it here with you!!

Ingredients:
1 C. Water
1 C. Milk (Organic, Regular, Whole, Skim - whatever, I recommend 2%)
Ginger to preference (I use about 8 slices off of a root)
Raw Sugar (I haven't tried it with processed sugar, I love the raw kind and that's what they have in Rwanda)

1. Boil water and ginger together.

2. Boil milk.

3. Put 1 teabag in a to-go cup while you wait for liquids to boil.

4. Add sugar to preference and pour hot water (hang on to the ginger, unless you want it taking up precious space in your cup) over tea bag.

5. Add boiled milk.

6. Mix well and Enjoy!

Loving Love

As a staunch 'soloist' and single lady, children and couples often did very little in the department of 'impressed' in my brain. Children didn't make me coo and couples didn't make me saw "Awww." Mostly, both things kicked off my gag reflex. Some of that has changed - perhaps I'm growing up or perhaps I've been out of the 'game' for too long and I'm becoming a softy. Am I pulling a "Carrie-Bradshaw-considering-children/future/marriage-with-the-Russian" in Season 6? I don't think so - but these stories are working pretty well at softening all my guards.

First, I subbed kindergarten last week for two days. I floated amongst two different groups of students so I got to really 'crash course' the kindergarten flow. Mannie - who I was warned about before beginning the class as a pretty hyperactive kid - quickly became my favorite. It helps that they all barely clear my knees, so they're at perfect head-patting-ignoring-your-questions height. So, we're comparing some stories which includes a venn diagram (two intersecting circles). I draw the two stories and Mannie gets truly concerned and says "Dat looks like a BUTT!" I (and the class) try to ignore his sentence, so in true hyperactive fashion he yells "WHY DOES DAT LOOK LIKE A BUTT?!" I am truly dying inside I want to laugh out loud so hard. Other than that, every day I've subbed in kinders there has been a birthday party which has included crazy sugary snacks and treats.

Next, over the weekend I went with my mom to see some family. My uncle is in the final stages of fighting lung cancer that has spread all over his body. I don't think he's come to terms with the fact that death is incredibly close because he kept saying "Hopefully, next time we see each other I'll be in better shape." It was heartbreaking to see this man, who has lived such an incredible life, not yet be ready to admit it's almost over. I remember last summer when I came to visit him and we talked politics and oil - our views differed, but our humor towards the audacity of it all in D.C. was completely aligned. I didn't agree with him, but I loved the way he said the things he said. He truly believed in the great America of his day and it's promise of now. But - besides my reminiscing, the most magical moment of the visit with him was my aunt. She is short and fiesty. She referred to everything as 'ours' or 'we.' "We have chemo next week," "Well, we had another seizure yesterday," "Our legs aren't working with us right now." The love between those two was almost overwhelming. It was that epic love that spans wars, Presidents, decades and pop stars. My aunt told me a story about seeing Johnny Cash at a little concert and she went to the stage, with my uncle and his camera in tow, and as she asked JC for a kiss on the cheek and my uncle looked down to advance his film, Sir Johnny Cash himself kissed my aunt on the lips!! Not before autographing an album cover for her. I was cracking up - my uncle, the esteemed photographer - for the first time ever missing a historic moment like that!

Lastly, strawberries. Nothing makes you appreciate nature and food more than strawberries. I love them. A few weeks ago, my brother drug me out to our garden - which was barely even green - to pick weeds around strawberry plants I could barely see. I teased him the whole time, thinking all this senseless work, these didn't even look they would have any fruit! And boy, this weekend I stuck my giant, muddy garden shoe right in my mouth. Our garden has hundreds of strawberries growing in it right now, tons of them ripe and ready for the picking. My mom - of course in her post-op stockings - spent all morning Saturday picking out all the ripe strawberries and cleaning them. This morning, I had them cut up with a banana. There is something so natural about picking the food you eat. I went out this afternoon after I got home from the school and spent a few minutes picking out some really ripe, happy looking berries. I can't wait to eat them - I feel like I actually really worked for that food and it makes it taste even better!

In my next life - of perhaps some sort of modicum of adulthood - I want to have a garden full of berries. My favorite berries - black, rasp and straw - so that I can work on them all summer and eat them up on top of everything. Maybe after I graduate from berry garden mastress, I'll graduate to herbs. I hope the rooftops or yards of the next city I find myself in are ready for me - I'll be cultivating them just as soon as possible.

Childrens

Part of my job search includes substitute teaching at my old elementary/middle/high schools. Usually, it's fun because I get to see younger siblings all grown up or pool rats that now tower over me and clearly wouldn't be stopped by a whistle. But other days.... other days are like yesterday. Yesterday I worked for a 1st grade teacher and, well, it was a challenge.

First, these kids whined like there was no tomorrow. They whined about everything. One girl, Karista whined at least every 25 seconds. I am accustomed to children whining in non-English, so this whole "me-understanding-everything-you-say-with-your-retainer-in" thing was really annoying. They told on each other every other minute for things such as "Kenny won't stop looking at me," or "Gage keeps saying 'Blah Blah Blah' to me."

Then, there was that one kid. There's always one. The one kid who just... well, peep the stories then you can decide for yourself. First I noticed that he was extremely ADD - and not that like, wimpy excuse for ADD - he, literally, could not sit still and if he was sitting still he was turned away (not facing his homework) and trying to distract the kid behind him. Then, while I was reading he was running around the room with a red permanent marker looking at me and pointing it at things. Then... then he pulled the trigger. It was indoor recess (whomever thought of this idea should be killed) and he turned on the radio. I walked over to be all teacher-like and make sure nothing was broken and he screamed. No, really, screamed. And said "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" I had to use my body to block his access to the radio. I was praying the PE class would whip them in to shape and exhaust them for the last two hours of the day. But no - as I started to work on the science assignment he went back to the teacher's computer and started pounding on the keyboard.

me: "Please come work on your paper"
him: "NO!"
me: "I'm giving you the answers, if you don't do this now you won't be able to finish it."
him: "Don't tell me what to DO!"

Ok kid... you should die. You should eat glass and throw yourself in front of traffic. Clearly, I didn't say any of these things out loud - but sharing them here makes me feel overall less violent towards him. Then I notice he is trying to put things - not discs - in to the disc drive of the teachers computer.

me: Walks over, pushes his chair away from the computer he's about to do damage to.
kid: "DON'T PUSH ME! IF YOU TOUCH ME I WILL TELL MY MOM."
me: I didn't push you, I pushed your chair.
kid: "I WILL TELL MY MOM"

so - that was my day at 1st grade. I think, Kindergarten may put these stories to shame, but for now I hope they suffice.

These stories really make me think about the differences in kids culturally. These kids I taught yesterday clearly have no respect or ideal of what authority is. One of the teacher aids that was in my classroom said "There's no one at home teaching them to respect authority." I agreed, but it worried me. Why is it that these children need someone to teach them to respect authority - even if it's just teachers. In Rwanda, most of the children we worked with never pushed me to the point I was pushed to yesterday. Sure, some of them pushed our buttons, but I could also assert myself as their teacher and they would listen. We could almost always divert their attention to the lesson and, above all, we could give them one colored pencil and one coloring sheet and they would be quiet and concentrated for HOURS.

But I know that these kids didn't have someone at home telling them who they should respect. Most of them barely had parents present to cook for them, let alone teach them life lessons. So how do they learn? Is it something they overhear so much they just take it as common behavior? Are there so many Americans around that think authority is crap and pass that on to the porous sponges we call children? Maybe it's a rural Indiana thing - maybe this wouldn't have been an issue somewhere that have many parents highly educated and clearly have a revere for education. But then again, barely anyone in Rwanda had a primary school education - so its not like there was a pulse through the country encouraging children to attain education. Most of them wanted the girls to get married or baptized instead of going to secondary school.

Maybe it is what the kids eat. I think this can all be blamed on junkfood and soda. Down with those commercials about the sad mom who can't buy her kids soda because of a tax on high fructose corn syrup! She's ruining America! She's making the children crazy! At least I know now, it's not a lack of materials or resources as I've seen them abundantly available every classroom I walk in to. It's the children - and that's where we need to focus.

What Comes Next...

To our fellow volunteers:

Coming home to America (or whatever Western country you are from) is not only the strangest experience, it's remarkably sad to go through. It takes a long time to mourn the loss of your life in another country - especially somewhere like Rwanda. The weather will shock you, the pace will shock you, the supermarkets will be strange. You'll wonder where the bananas tree are and people at coffee shops will look at you funny when you mutter "nothing is as good as African tea" and walk away with your Venti coffee.

But, once you start to move forward - you will, we promise - you'll find that talking about your experience really helps. It was hard for me to talk about at first, because I just couldn't figure out to answer the question "SOooooo, how was AFRICA?!" in shorter than a 4.5 hour conversation. However, I had the opportunity to address three different groups of high school students at my old high school and it felt really good. I picked a few highlights of my trip: where I lived, what I ate and a daily schedule. I shared those stories with them and even made a powerpoint slide show with photos. It felt good to tell them about Rwanda and take it from their textbooks to an actual experience. You'd be surprised the things these 15 & 16 year olds want to know. Also, you may be the first person they've ever met who's been to Africa. I had one girl walk up to me after my speech and sigh, look at me and say "Why do you think the US didn't intervene in the genocide?" A lot of the students I spoke with were studying or had studied Rwanda in a World History class so they were really engaged with what life is like in Rwanda.

Don't expect people to understand. They'll ask weird questions, but if they're worth the time you're spending answering their questions - they'll let you explain and listen intently. Again, going to Africa isn't an everyday experience and most people don't know anyone who's even been to the continent - so consider yourself Rwanda's newest spokesperson and share your story with anyone who will ask. People won't understand your cravings for casava and they won't understand why you try to quickly go in and out of those intimidating mega supermarkets. They probably won't be as excited as you are when someone says "beans and rice" and you'll just need to let them experience Meddy before thinking they'll love it as much as you. Give them time, let your stories be their basis of understanding.

And, a special note for those of you going home and looking for a job. It will be hard. You will wish that you were going back to college or a job that waited for you, etc. For me, I came home to unemployment and the prospect of it not ending in the near future.

First, see if your local high school will let you substitute teach. It's awesome and you'll realize how extremely lucky students in the US are. It'll also give you ample time to not be on the computer job searching.

Use the internets and email friends. I used my "Hey! I'm back from Africa" intro to many people and mentors to open the door in to letting them know I'm on the job search. The only interviews I've had to date are ones that people helped grease the entry way for me with personal connections. I scoured online listings, job banks and Craigslist for openings and sent out hundreds of CVs.

It will take time, be patient.

Don't close yourself off to only certain cities. I had my heart set on NYC - but heard from no one in any firm I applied to there. I reassessed my search and got calls from firms in LA and San Francisco. I also interviewed in my home state capital, Indianapolis. In this economy and this market - being flexible is important - even if it means deciding you have to buy a car, after you haven't owned one in about 3 years.

Lastly, have a little faith. It's okay if you spend a few hours each day watching tv and reading the newspaper instead of applying for and searching for jobs.

I like to joke that coming home from Rwanda and transitioning back is like recovering from surgery which takes about 6 weeks. You'll need time to acclimate yourself back in to this society and to get used to things. Give yourself that time. Spend time with your family, upload your thousands of pictures to your online networks, download new music and feel it out. You'll know when the time is right to close the chapter of your life in Rwanda and start the next one. Don't worry if it takes you a few rounds of searching for possible flights to Kigali on your next vaca - that doesn't count.

What to Expect, When you're Expecting... to go to Rwanda...

Or, as our dear friend Will put it when we were scouring the internet for useful information, “Less, ‘It was so inspiring!’ more ‘What to pack’.”

Getting To Kigali:
We did the path less traveled (albeit cheaper, it was not for the traveler who is weary in the slightest of… well, basically anything, specifically volcanic ash clouds) through the Entebbe-Kampala airport. We flew in, took a taxi to downtown Kampala and rode the Jaguar Bus (about $16) to Kigali. It’s an uncomfortable, long, bump journey – but in the end it saved us a few hundred bucks as opposed to flying in directly to Kigali. Other than that, you can usually find Brussels Air doing flights from the States in to Kigali. We also just learned that KLM will start flying from the states (via Amsterdam) in to Kigali. KLM is our favorite airline (minus the GIANT customer service nightmare incurred during the aforementioned volcanic ash cloud.) and they have fantastic inflight food and movies.

Accomodations:
If you are a volunteer with FVA, you will be both surprised and pleased! FVA owns two guest houses: Favour Guest House in Remera, and another house in Kimironko. In both houses you will share a room and a bathroom with, at most, one to two other volunteers. There is always running water and occasionally it will even be lukewarm. You get a very respectable breakfast (most days) of fruit, bread, tea and sometimes instant coffee. Dinner is actually VERY good. You buy your own lunch. If you live in Favor Guest House, you will be steps away from several markets, internet cafes, restaurants, banks, Western Unions, and other conveniences. If you live in Kimironko, you will be close to nothing.

If you are not a volunteer with FVA, Kigali offers a wide range of accommodations, from a room with no running water for about $10 a night to a very nice room with your own bathroom for about $30. We stayed at the Favor Guest House, but nearby was Chez Rose - a fantastic guesthouse (be sure to check out the funky 'tree table' in the courtyard).

Basic Kinyarwandan (Kin-yar-wandan)
Oya - No
Yego - Yes
Murakoze [More - A - Coz - A] - Thank you
Bite se? [Bee - Tays] - What's Up (Hello to young children, informal greeting)
Muraho [Mer - A - Ho] - Hello! (Formal)
Mwiriwe [Meery - Way] - Hi! (Informal - use anytime but the afternoon/evening)
Undishaka [Un - di - sha - ka] - I want
(Blog Update we did for Kinyarwandan 101)

Neighborhoods:
Kigali isn't exactly the easiest city on Earth to figure your way around. "Town" is pretty basic, it's the center of Kigali, where the Union Trade Center is, where the buses stop when they're going to town, Milles Collines, etc. Remera is where we lived and it's biggest landmark is the Chez Lando hotel. Also, you'll probably read about Sole Luna, the awesome Italian resto that's right down the road from Chez Lando. Remera is quiet and clean - but the bus stop (the end point) is really crazy because there are a lot of buses going out of the city from there. Kimironko is near Remera - if you turn towards Chez Lando and keep going straight (past the stadium) you are well on your way to Kimironko. There you'll find a super market - tons of local produce and meat, big craft stalls and seamstresses. The University is also located in Kimironko.

Nyabogogo is what we like to refer to as the Times Square of Kigali - it's busy and crazy and there's a huge bus stop there where buses come in from multiple countries. There's a market there as well but we never went to that one. Kacyriu and Kicyciru (those are definitely not correct spellings, ha!) are pretty residential districts. Kacyriu is where Ivuka Art Studio (see below) is located and also where the American Embassy is located. Kicyciru is close to the big charter schools in Kigali (ISK and Green Hills) and is a little more expensive residential area.

All the neighborhoods have tons of restos and markets and people selling MTN minutes. We liked Remera the most because we lived there for three months. It's clean and pretty cheap (internet is 300RwF/.5 hours - whereas in town its about 600RwF/.5 hours). Having Chez Lando and Sole Luna within walking distance is also pretty awesome :) Google maps has some pretty great updates on Kigali, so it's helpful if you need to look at it.

Transportation:
The Kigali public bus system is remarkably easy to use, once you get the hang of it. Men stand at the bus stops and yell the ultimate destination of their transport – “Kimironko!” “Nyabogogo Nyabogogo Nyabogogo!” – and attempt to herd you on to their bus, whether or not that bus is going in the direction you originally intended to travel. You will quickly learn which buses go by the places you would like to stop, and remember “OYA” for when a conductor grabs you and aims you the wrong way. The buses are extremely cheap – 150-180RwF – because, as we have mentioned, they are dirty, extremely overcrowded, and always smell as though someone’s armpit died in transit. Also, people will sit directly on top of your appendages. We always recommend sitting near a window.

Motobikes are awesome – for questions, comments and concerns, see previous post devoted solely to this, our favorite means of transportation. If you don’t know how to get where you’re going, find a moto that does and hop on. ALWAYS NEGOTIATE THE PRICE UPFRONT, and don’t pay more than you said you would. When you get off, hang on to your helmet while you wait for your change. We’ve never had a moto drive off on us, but we don’t feel the need to take chances. Motos are slightly more expensive than buses, ranging from just under a dollar to about 800 - 2,000RwF, depending on distance. Make sure you get a motobike wearing a green vest/helmet that means they've been certified by the government to be able to drive the bike.

There are regular taxis, but they’re more expensive and we sometimes found them extremely shady (ie: a man would drive up in his car and say ‘taxi?’). We only used them in the most dire of situations (sudden downpour while walking home from an evening out, etc).

What to Pack:
- Shampoo & Conditioner : it’s all imported here, so it’s very expensive
- Lotion, Body Wash & Lady Products: ALSO, very expensive in the stores here
- Bugspray
- Sunscreen
- Chapstick
- Deodorant
- Water Bottle
- First Aid Stuff (basics, Aspirin, Cold Meds<-- Extremely hard to find in Rwanda, Band-Aids, etc) - Clothes: First – long skirts (you’ll be climbing over 18 people in a minibus, hopping on the back of a motobike or working with children who barely clear your knees, long skirts are best), tank tops, tshirts, jeans, capri length pants (no shorts, you’ll be uncomfortable unless you’re working out), maxi dresses (comfy and good for the weather), hoodies for cold evenings - also good to carry around for the quasi-frequent rain showers that come out of nowhere.

o In general, bring clothes that are loose fitting materials because the hot in Kigali is not like the hot you’re used to. Also, if you get caught in the instant (and short) sun showers you’ll dry out quickly.
o Mens: Basically, whatever you want. Pants and Tshirts. Men aren’t typically expected to be dressed to the nines in public in Kigali. Definitely bring a few light cotton button-downs and a nice pair of pants or two in case your placement or infrequent church attendance requires them.
o Shoes: Flip-flops. If you find yourself walking a lot, sneakers. Whatever you’re most comfortable in.
o Rainboots: brought ours and didn’t find them useful, plus they took up way too much room in our luggage. The rainy season isn’t exactly what you’d expect, so bring a rain jacket and an umbrella – you’ll be fine.

Bring It or Buy It – It’s Cheap!
- Soap (They sell Dove soap at Simba for 900RwF)
- Umbrella

Recommended Sights and Sounds:
- The bar scene in Kigali is both awesome (banana beer!) and daunting (bars, everywhere). The nightclubs are infamous for pick-pocketing, but most bars are extremely laid back, have seats outside, serve the beer very cold and the prices are manageable. If you pay more than 1,000RwF for a Primus, you’re getting a muzungu price, go somewhere cheaper. We have no idea how to get to any of these bars, but a motobike will be able to drop you at their front door :)

o Papyrus (good drinks, pretty view)
o Pasadena (Salsa dancing extravaganza every Thursday night)
o Sundowners
o Cadillac (We didn't prefer the nightclub there, but every Friday there's karaoke and the setting is amazing. They also have a Mama Africa cafe in there which is really good.)

- Ivuka Arts Studio: Become part of Rwanda’s blossoming art scene. This art studio is more than a showroom, it houses the resident artists and their workroom is in the back. You can drop in anytime during the day (Charles is the ‘manager’ but you can always find an artist more than willing to show you around) and there is often work going on until the sun goes down. Swing by around 3pm or 4pm on Sunday and catch the studio’s world-touring dance troupe practicing. Ivuka is behind Novutel (make a right at the ‘Internews’ sign on the main road – about 50 feet from the bus stop; walk to the first big T in the dirt road and make a left; Ivuka will be about ½ mile up the road on your right). http://ivukaarts.com/. Find Charles, Collin, or Innocent and tell them Nicole & Kaitlyn sent you.

- Genocide Memorial Sites at Nyamata and Ntarama: Both are chilling reminders of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide. They both include crypts that you can walk in to and mass graves where identified Rwandans are buried in caskets. The tours are often given by survivors, not just of the Genocide but of the murders that took place at the sites.

- Genocide Memorial Museum

- Milles Collines Pool: Its 5,000RwF ($10) for a chair and a towel at the (in)famous hotel, but if you have a Saturday or Sunday with nothing to do, it’s a great way to spend a day. The water is crystal clear and cold and the people that work there are fantastic.

- Amahoro Stadium: Outdoor concerts here are awesome (2,000-5,000RwF) and the soccer (football) games are exciting too.

Things to do in Town:
- UTC (Union Trade Center) has the fixings of a small mall right in city center. Inside you can find Bourbon Coffee (Rwandan Starbucks, overrun by muzungus, but its good coffee), Mille Collines (Fabulous clothes! Not exactly inexpensive, but the clothes are glorious), an MTN store, an Electronics store and an internet café.

- Nakumatt & Simba (Home of the Big Burger): Located very close to each other (Nakumatt in UTC, Simba on the other side of the traffic circle (near Centennary House) these two markets offer the greatest of Western conveniences in Supermarket fashion. They are the cheapest places to buy anything from Shampoo to Cadburry bars. They both have legit bakeries and a butcher and even a freezer section.

o Simba has a fantastic restaurant. The prices are reasonable and the food is enough to make any Western pallate feel at home. They have burgers (2,800 RwF), omellets (1,500 RwF) and the famous African tea (1,400 RwF).

- Aroma Coffee: Located near the entrance to the Kimironko Bus Station/Market this small coffee shop has great drinks, teas and pastries. There is also wireless internet – it’s a good un-muzungu’d coffee place.

- Kimironko Market: The produce prices are unparalleled here (200RwF for an Avocado!) so take a Saturday and head out to the market to pick up fresh produce. You can also find a fantastic selection of Rwandan crafts (much more reasonable prices than the Craft Market in Town). Be ready to bargain – they run a fierce operation, but we found the women almost always the easiest to bargain with and they always offered the best deals. If you have a specific budget in mind, ask a local what they would pay for things and use that as your bargaining tool.

Weekend Trips:
- Akagera : Use BiziDanny’s Tours, they offer great prices and door-to-door service. For about $80 we had our park fees and our SUV covered with 5 people in it. It will be, by far, the best $80 you have ever spent in Rwanda.

- Gorilla Trek (OR! For budget minded travelers-->) Hike in Volcanoes National Park : We didn’t choose to do either of these options, but heading to the OTPR (Rwandan Tourism Office) in Town will be able to give you all the information you need.

- Bujumbura, Burundi : Travel is safe there nowadays (but TIA, check the security status before setting off). You can take a Belvedere Bus there for about 12,000RwF roundtrip. The beach in Bujumbura is gorgeous and we heard there were lots of fun things to do in this city over a weekend.

- Butare : A beautiful smaller town in the south of Rwanda, this is also the location of the National Museum and National University.

- Gisenyi : Use the Belvedere Bus Line (the entrance is directly across from the entrance of UTC (near the Akagera Toyota Car Lot). The tickets to Gisenyi are 2,800/each way and the bus trip is about 3 hours. When you get to downtown Gisenyi, walk down the road towards the T (away from the volcano) and you will see a sign for the Presbyterian. The guest house here is simple and cheap (2,000 RwF for a room in the dorm; 8-12,000 for single/double rooms) and the staff are great.

o Go to Goma, DRC. The border is within walking distance. (US citizens the entrance Visa is $35). There isn’t a lot to do in Goma besides go to the site of the volcano eruption that happened about 10 years ago, but it’s a sweet stamp on your passport and interesting to say that you went there.
o Find a place that serves Chai tea (It’s the best in this town due to the huge Muslim population)
o Beach sit for free on the public beach, sit in the Serena Hotel’s beachside garden or pay 3,000RwF to sit by their pool or in one of their beach chairs. If you go to Serena, find a waiter named Yves - he's awesome and was a great friend to the RAs and one of the other volunteers during our time there.

Back in The Saddle

Checking in from the grand Hoosier State here, reporting that it is weird as hell to be back in America.

From the moment I walked in to my mother's house (where there was a hand-made welcome home sign) to the moment I sat down at the computer to start writing this, I have been struggling with balancing the "Rwandaself" and the "Americaself." Neither self is better than the other in total, but together, they truly are my "Bestself."

First part of "Bestself" was to take the longest shower I've had in the last four months. It included many different soaps, shampoos, conditioners, body scrubs and moisturizer. The bathroom was a literal fog when I was done with it. After that I went to the kitchen and was disappointed. I was craving chapatis and samosas!!

I set off the next day to the store to purchase "Rwandaself" requirements: ginger, raw sugar and soymilk (ingredients for African tea) and naan bread (as close as I could get to chapati). I've been scared to eat anything super-processed for what it will do to my stomach, so I've been sticking to pretty basic meals. Then my dad had us all over for dinner and served the most amazing chicken noodles and mashed potatoes with a huge salad and a strawberry/rhubarb cobbler. I ate and told stories about Rwanda and had so much fun. It was so nice to be surrounded by family, but sometimes my reminiscing about Rwanda made me incredibly sad and miss it so much.

So far in the interest of maintaining the amazing friendships in "Rwandaself", I've been able to talk with or email with or chat with everyone back in Kigali and that is truly comforting. There's nothing better than knowing technology prevails over oceans and thousands of miles.

It has been nice to shop at grocery stores, but it's still overwhelming. There's no hotbox with warm goodies in the form of samosas, fresh bread and chapatis. I can use my Visa card at every turn and I drive to and from the store (I would walk, but its about 10 miles away). There is something nice and relaxing about being able to drive a car - even though some of the country roads rival the potholes of Kigali.

So, besides the fear of food making me pray to the porcelain Goddess - I'm bringing as much of Kigali to Indiana as I can. I'm still perfecting my African tea - the soy milk substitution is hit or miss, but I've definitely mastered the ginger! And I continue to dig my room out of the madness I left behind, it's strange not to be in a tiny dormstyle room with my best friend. I'll sometimes yell out at her, and then remember she's not 50 feet away at all times. I think I've gotten to the point where every comfort here in America has a corresponding feeling of missing something in Kigali.

In closing, there is so much I miss from Rwanda but I am really happy to be able to talk with my friends every day and whenever I want. I'm really happy to be with my family (even though they are CRAZY!). There will always be a piece of my heart in Rwanda and I think about my kids every single moment of every day - there is almost nothing I miss more than them. The job search is daunting and requires more patience than I have the capacity for. I start substitute teaching at the end of the week AND they've put me on two school districts, which will hopefully keep me distracted while I wait for responses from companies.

We're still rockin' the Manolos attitude, except now the bush is in Mass and Indiana. The good thing, is that the bush is a little more familiar and a little less full of foreign animals and languages. But it is still full of questions unanswered, chapters to be written and dreams to be fulfilled. The blog will be different from now on, but so are we, and that's really exciting.

Leaving On A Jetplane - one of these days

Morale: Much Improved
Beer Supply: Abundant and holding steady
Days Trapped in Uganda: 5 and counting

On Sunday, we managed to locate the one reasonably efficient KLM employee working out of Uganda - the only woman in the office, naturally, and a flight attendant to boot. She has tentatively re-scheduled us to fly on Friday, so if we don't get on a plane before then, at least we have a seat. There's an air of optimism today as Schipol has opened and planes are going in and out, and the UK is opening airspace, but there are, as ever, a number of complications. Unless we have a confirmed seat on a connecting flight, we cannot get on ANY plane to Amsterdam. It's still a question of wait-and-see.

In the interest of preserving what was left of our sanity after our adventure in the tent, we went to the zoo yesterday rather than stalking helplessly around the airport. It was amazing. It's technically a "wildlife education center", and many of the animals aren't even in cages. Those that are, like the lions, were never more than a few yards away. We were INCHES from an ostrich, which ambled over to check us out after RA1 called to it, and they are the most awesomely absurd creatures. We hung out with three camels that were tethered to the playground equipment and ran into hordes of monkeys that run around like they own the place - a few of them were carrying babies or teaching their offspring to jump from branch to branch on the trees. We also saw rhinos, crocodiles, otters, giraffes, zebras, hyenas, turtles, cool birds, very old trees, and the most awe-inspiringly huge snakes, which RA2 likes very much. One was a python which appeared to have eaten a cat.

Last night we were booked at a steep discount in what we are referring to as "The Palatial Sweet", which has a full-size bed for each of us, with a set of stairs rather than a ladder leading to the top bunk, our own bathroom and a little porch area. Seriously, the height of luxury. Many many many thanks to Dad and Mama Soli for ensuring we could remain there, as we have moved all 8 of our bags every morning for the last 5 days. Many thanks also toMama Stipps, for continued funding, and to Tami for amking a deposit from Boston in New York so we could get it Entebbe. It has made RA2 rethink her stance on globalization.

In other small adventures, we had both ordered the grilled fish without incident several times for dinner, and gotten nicely breaded fillets. Last night, RA2 ordered the grilled fish, and received a whole flayed creature, head still attached, little burned eyeballs staring blankly and accusingly up at her from the plate. RA1 showed her how to eat it and it was delicious. Our standards of civility may have changed somewhat.

You Can't Go Home But You Can't Stay Here

We slept on the front lawn of our hostel in a tent last night.

We do not wish to discuss this.

It's becoming clear that Amsterdam is not opening today, and with so many delays, when flights are up and running they will probably put passengers on their regularly scheduled flights, leaving those whose flights were cancelled to fight it out Gladiator-style in the nearest stadium in order to keep the populace entertained until the World Cup. "Two will enter one will leave! Two will enter one will leave!"

We have come to the deeply disturbing conclusion that we may not go anywhere for another week, and since neither of us maybe necessarily got a great night's sleep, we've put on our "We want answers" face, honed over many years of being paid to acquire answers for others, now being put to, we hope, optimal use for ourselves. We discovered that KLM operates out of the EU, and there are a series of laws that govern their relations with their passengers whether said passengers are stranded in England, Uganda, or on the moon. We will be discussing this with the KLM attendants when they arrives at, we hope 5pm, as they have not seen fit to yet open the office (only many hundreds of desperate stranded people here, no rush!).

We're considering trying to talk our way into an extra week in Kigali, as it will be more enjoyable and less stressful than continually stalking KLM attendants. We have a bed tonight, the beer is plentiful, and our families (bless you a thousand times over) have made sure we have enough money to keep buying both of those things until someone lets us go home.

On the various plus sides: many of our fellow travellers and refugees are awesome, and one bought and cut up a pineapple for us (with a swiss army knife) on the steps of our hostel yesterday. We saw monkeys running around the airport today! All the music played here is the soundtrack to our high school years. CNN is really entertaining right now, and keeps running such encouraging headers as "Volcanic ash cloud getting worse", "Passengers expect to be stranded for up to an additional week" and "Travellers running out of money."

Stuck Like Someone Who Can't Drive Stick

You know what, friends? We had it a little easy here in Africa. The water was almost never hot, but it was RUNNING. The food wasn't any good unless Damian cooked it, but it was plentiful. And when the good Lord, so popular here and in Rwanda, bowed his head over our situation, he was like, "Look, you should really get the full experience, you know?" And so we just happened to schedule our flight home on the day that a volcano that had had the good grace to lay dormant for TWO HUNDRED YEARS went and erupted in Iceland, disrupting airspace across Europe in ways that we literally struggle to conceive of, screwing up our flight home in ways we go beyond struggling to understand.

The Manolos are currently stranded in Entebbe, Uganda - literally in the middle of Lake Victoria. Unfortunately, the views don't make up for the delayed flights and EPIC VOLCANIC ASH.

We were on the second flight to be delayed out of Entebbe, so we're crossing our fingers to be on the second flight out of here to Amsterdam. The second flight may come as early as Monday, or as late as Wednesday - your guesses are as good as the actual information we have received. We have - in typical Manolo fashion - befriended the local KLM agent, Godfrey, and are pumping him for information every chance we get.

Once we get to Amsterdam it's fair game as to when we'll actually get back to the contiguous. We're praying for the air space to open up and be smooth sailing once we leave, but we're also just praying to get out of Africa and in to Europe... at least in Europe they have to like, feed us and stuff. We understand that Amsterdam is a virtual IDP camp, but tonight, due to full hotels and hostels from stranded passengers, we are quite LITERALLY camping, in a tent, on our hostels front lawn.

We'll try to keep you posted with the random and limited internet access we have and hope you'll all pray for us. One of us is a Jew, and we have been informed that since the Jews killed Jesus her prayers come at a discount. We were informed this, by the way, since our arrival in Uganda. Know what we miss right about now? RWANDA.

xoxoxox
Soli and Stipps

Reading in Rwanda

RA2 really does love her alliterative little blog titles, and apologizes to all who, justly, find this habit immensely irritating.

Deprived (sometimes quite happily) of movie theaters, TV, general mindless consumerism, and most entertainment, really, besides each other, 600RWF Primus, and Ian’s Guitar-Playing Remera Bar Sing-Alongs, the volunteers generally and the RAs in particular have spent a great deal of time reading. Books are prohibitively expensive here, so we have traded two dozen or so between us all. Below is our Rwandan Reading Review. At least one RA read every book on this list, but in general, what with the trading and the time to kill, we both read almost all of them.

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s grasp of the English language is, to understate the matter, exceptional. Take as an example this line, not even from the book itself, but from the introduction to the 25th anniversary edition: "then all at once I understood that there was no contest, that Children of Midnight was a banal title and Midnight's Children a good one." The book follows a group of children born at the midnight hour of the independent state of India’s birth, endowed by their magical nation with a special set of widely varying powers, talents and traits. The narrator writes the book while rapidly falling apart, physically and emotionally, and the book itself follows the same pace as his deterioration, beginning strong and slow, ending quickly and frantically, spiraling all the while and taking the reader with it.

Say You’re One of Them by Uwem Akpan

This collection of short stories explores various conflicts in different African countries through the eyes of children living through them. They include a brother and sister unaware they are being prepared by their uncle for a life of slavery, a Muslim boy fleeing with Christians from conflict and two girls finding a friendship around religious strife. The title piece, “Say You’re One of Them”, is about a family of Hutus and Tutsis being brutally ripped apart by the Rwandan genocide. It does an excellent job giving at least an idea of this country’s pain and was, to say the least, particularly poignant to read while here.

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

RA2's mother sent this in a care package after she mentioned a weird desire to read it that came to her upon her arrival. There must have been something to it, because reading the author's account of his months spent hiking the Appalachian Trail with his ill-equipped childhood friend were strangely reminiscent of our time in Kigali. Like the RAs, Bryson traversed an unknown landscape for the sake of adventure that he came to feel, at long last, a certain mastery of, which he retains a clear fondness for, and which he would very much like to return to, and probably will throughout his life. Like Kigali, the AT had its own language to be learned and geography to be navigated. Like the RAs, Bryson spent a lot of time dreaming of Oreos and a long, hot shower, as well as sleeping on weirdly uncomfortable surfaces. The book is wickedly funny throughout and has made RA2 draw up plans for hiking when she gets home, because God forbid she spend any time in one place.

Avalon by (apologies - RA2 cannot find the author online and needs to just post this already, as she has been drafting it for what seems like eternity)

A very nice, interesting break from our usual reading material (thanks Mama Stipp!), the book follows two people who can’t get their act together through court intrigue from Britain to Iceland in the 16th century.

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

Being in Rwanda gave interesting perspective to this story about the African-American experience in a rural Ohio town. It is painfully sad and simply told, following two young sisters as they watch their friend undergo experiences they cannot begin to comprehend. It depicts endless internalized racism and self-hatred, something everyone who works with children, as we have done here, is concerned about.

Baking Cakes in Kigali by Gaile Parkin

More than anything else RA2 has ever read, this book captures the feeling, the daily idiosyncracies and the intimate ins-and-outs of life in Kigali. Written by a woman born and raised in Zambia, it holds the flavor of life in Rwanda in a way a book about the country's history never could - partially because Rwanda is, in every sense, a startlingly young nation. Angel, a "professional somebody", cake-maker, grandmother and amateur matchmaker, meets a series of customers and reveals intimate details of Rwandan life as she learns their stories. This book covered some of the most fascinatingly mundane aspects of the culture here, including most countries' tendency to claim that AIDS is everywhere except within their borders, the population's deep belief in voodoo and witch doctors despite their devout Christianity, the common occurence of men taking two wives and what that means for Rwandan women, and the way genocide survivors live in a country that took their families.

The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas

Our fellow volunteer Ian traded this to RA2, jailhouse style, for a pack of cigarettes and information about the outside (probably not true). A book-within-a-book, the not terribly strong plot becomes completely brilliant when the author uses the story as an opportunity to explore a series of odd, scientific, meta-physical ideas that one gets the idea had been kicking around in her head for awhile, looking for any flimsy opportunity to be expressed. At least half of the book was fascinating enough to be worth reading the whole thing.

What is the What by Dave Eggers

Thank you Emily Mowery! This was RA1's Christmas present and it was truly an amazing read. It tells the story of Achak Deng, one of the "Lost Boys" in the Sudan's civil war, almost entirely as he related it to novelist Dace Eggers. The two men depict Deng's life from IDP camps to barely-legal immigrant in the United States with heartbreaking honesty, and the tragedies contained bring the story of a refugee in to crystal clear perspective.

You've Come a Long Way, Maybe by Leslie Sanchez

A personal gift from the author to RA1, the book looks at the somewhat disparate question of what the media's sexism towards Sarah Palin, Hillary Clinton and Michelle Obama means for women in politics. It was nice to bring a piece of DC with us to the bush.

It by Stephen King

As RA2 wrote home to her loved ones, this book found its way into her possession at a perfect time, in a perfect way, with the usual ka of all things King-related. As we mentioned, books are rare and expensive here. On our way to Gisinye for the last week we would spend there, we stopped at Nakumat (Rwandan Walmart, ish) and she wandered away to gaze longingly at the books, most of which were slim "beach book" romantic-comedy paperbacks costing an average of 30 unjustifiable USD. On that particular day, though, she noticed a stack of Stephen King books. The only one she hadn't read but wanted to was It. She checked; they had it. As it was the length of a Bible, she knew she couldn't afford it, but she flipped it over anyway. At 9USD, it was the cheapest book there, and probably cheaper than she could even buy it used at home. She purchased it IMMEDIATELY. When we arrived at Gisinye we were not led to our usual room attached to the dining hall building, or to one of the rooms on the main building, or even to one of the buildings a stone's throw from the other two. Instead, we were led down a volcanic-rock lined path (unlit, naturally) down 4 steps that probably led directly to an as-yet-unknown circle of hell (Dante never visited Africa, that we know of) and to a virtually abandoned set of rooms from which we could not see the main set of buildings, nor could anyone see us. Nor, for that matter, would anyone hear us if we screamed as we were being hacked to pieces in the night - and did we mention we were in a technology-free northern Rwandan town bordering the Congo? it was the perfect setting to read one of the most terrifying books ever written about childhood nightmares and things that live in sewers, drains, basements and dark places. When RA2 did manage to sleep that week, she was afraid to put any appendage over the side of the bed, and kept imagining she saw faces in the window. THIS EXPERIENCE COMES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED, JUST FYI.

The #1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alex McCall

In reviews, this book draws frequent comparisons to the aforementioned Baking Cakes in Kigali, leading one to wonder if reviewers bothered to actually read the two books. While both books take place in African countries (Ladies is set in Botswana) and feature female main characters who learn about their customers' lives through their work, Ladies is by far the sharper, more interesting and better written of the two. While Baking Cakes is, ultimately, about Rwanda, Ladies is about a strong, fascinating, independent woman and her extremely interesting neighbors, and happens to be set in Botswana. Also, Ladies is now an awesome show on HBO, which the RAs love (Baking Cakes has yet to achieve this fame), thus proving once and for all its superiority. Baking Cakes is an excellent book in its own right, but if idiotic people insist on comparing the two, no one shall call them equal, the end. Richard, thank you for the loan!

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

This book about crazy people and a man slowly driving himself insane seemingly for the fun of it is written in such a way that reading it feels in and of itself slightly schizophrenic.

Flapper by Joshua Zeitz

We ended up reading a surprising amount of non-fiction here, and this was a great example of a fascinatingly rendered, historically accurate account. Using the Fitzgeralds as an anchor, the book traces the music, theater, literature and movies, as well as the more prominent personalities, that were touchstones of the jazz age. The direct-source quotes from writers like Fitgerald's (increasingly insane) wife Zelda and Lois Long are particularly interesting and often encompass whole pages.

In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz by Michela Wrong

Drawing occasionally from the themes and and passages of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and written by a journalist who actually lived in Congo while the AFDL was moving in to liberate the country from an ailing Mobutu, this book was a strangely eerie one to read while living in Rwanda. It is one of the best examples of the frequent attempts by visitors to Africa to encapsulate and render widely relevant their time on this continent. Wrong traces Mobutu's corrupt history, her personal experiences during the changeover, the history of colonization and its impact on the independent state of Zaire's psyche, and the West's gigantic and hugely whitewashed responsibility for Mobutu's reign and the economic fall-out, while managing to tie the narrative together - no small feat for a book that seems determined to do a lot in 300 pages. Some of the book is based on her interviews with infamous Zairean players, including one of Mobutu's sons. Her observations are pointed and her prose is excellent. It was cool and strange to recognize places she named as places we ourselves had been, to realize the enormous and awful history that had been under our feet, and to get a clearer sense of Rwanda's and the genocide's part in undoing the already unstable country.RA2 has never been particularly interested in Africa's history outside of Rwanda, but recognizing now that the borders between countries are a product of very recent colonization and based on arbitrary interests in minerals and resources, she would very much like to read every book like this that she can get her hands on when she returns home. Richard, thank you for the loan!

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

Recommended by Dad (Mr. Soligan), this was one of RA2’s favorite books of the trip – one of her favorite books, really, of all time. Set during the Golden Age of comics, the story follows two cousins, one a native New Yorker, one barely escaped from Nazi-occupied eastern Europe, as they create one of the biggest super heroes in comic book history. Engaging, funny, and brilliantly sharp, this book will break your heart in astoundingly creative ways roughly every dozen pages.

and

The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

After hearing how much the Manolos enjoyed Kavalier and Clay, Papa Soli sent this one along in a care package with the caveat that, "like Kavalier, this may require a certain Jewish sensibility to enjoy." He then pointed out that the time the book spent on the NYT best-sellers list just went to show how many Jewish readers buy books (or, yes, also, how many Jews live in NYC). Based on the never-realized concept of a Jewish settlement in Sitka, Alaska, the book takes place in a world in which Israel never survived the 6-day war. A crime story that takes place in 2008 but recalls hard-bitten detective stories of the 1920's, the books best thread (of many) is the realistic yet gorgeous love story. When the narrator describes his ex-wife as a Jewish woman who lives out of her handbag, the kind of woman who will be the continuation of the race and religion, you know just which woman he means, and just why he'll never stop loving her.

Sometimes in April

April marks two things for Rwandans: the start of the rainy season (totally skewed by climate change, as we have mentioned) and the month of mourning for all that was lost in Rwanda's genocide.

The genocide remains, by and large, a peripheral part of life here. Sixteen years after the worst of it, people are beginning to mention it in conversation; we get snippets of stories, a moment here or there, a girl we work with turning to point at a building and saying, "We hid there, after they killed my parents." There is a struggle between the need for privacy and the need to have the events that occurred here known and remembered.

We were aware that April was a totally different story, but were unsure what to expect. Last year was the 15th anniversary, and stories from ex-pats included people crying all through the month, in restaurants and on street corners. We were told that no music is played except mourning music, what little nightlife there is dies down considerably, and schools are closed for the first two weeks of the month. And we have found that this is all true, to some extent, but it doesn't really do justice to how Rwandans commemorate their loss.

April 7th, Wednesday, was the official Genocide Memorial Day, a national holiday for which all industry closes. We went to the stadium to hear the president speak (this marks the second time the RAs have been present when a sitting president gave a speech - we were both also there for President Obama's inaugural address). The stadium is a perfect example of Rwanda's struggle for both privacy and recognition. For the first two hours, a narrator droned on in Kinyarwandan, and throughout the stadium, you couldn't hear a pin drop, except for the people going into hysterics. There was pure silence from thousands of people, and then the screams of what could only be someone being ripped apart, in absolute agony, then more silence, then more screams, as Rwandans either experienced flashbacks or engaged in a socially acceptable form of grieving. According to our friend Amir, last year's 15th anniversary was worse; he said it was as though people in the stadium had lost their loved ones that very day. The stories that were triggering this grief were not repeated in English.

When President Kagame spoke, he alternated between Kinyarwandan and very pointed English intervals. He is an excellent speaker, and clearly beloved by his countrymen, some of whom were good-naturedly mimicking his mildly eccentric speech patterns next to us. Even though we only understood half of what he said, the half-hour went by quickly, and people around us would occasionally burst out laughin at something he said in Kinyarwandan. But when he switched to English, he had a point to make, and it was largely political. He chastised people who claimed there wasn't free press in Rwanda (there isn't, in some major ways) and those who say Rwandan's don't feel free to express themselves (they largely don't, politically). He made the extremely fair point that it is these same countries who call for greater freedom of expression that get angry when Rwandan's point out the role they played in the genocide (a great deal of the speech indicated that France's President Sarkozy irritated Kagame considerably during his recent visit). His speech, to our delight, also included the perfectly enunciated phrase, aimed at Western countries, "I. Don't. Give. A. Damn." But most of what he said about the genocide was said in Kinyarwandan, privately, to his fellow countrymen, in words the muzungus wouldn't understand.

By and large, aside from a slightly eerie day in which every single bar, store and restaurant in the city was closed, life moves on this month much as it always did. But occasionally, something reminds us that privately, Rwandans hold this time sacred. Assumpta, who manages our guest house, has worn something purple every day. When we were in Remera, a place known for it's drunks and giant $1 bottles of Primus (the two are probably not unrelated) as well as it's truly unspeakably appalling "bathrooms", almost every bar on the street (made up entirely of bars) was closed, and we were asked to leave around 10pm. We've seen more soldiers on the streets this month, and in places we don't usually see them, as genocide deniers sometimes do things like throw grenades at memorials during April. And today, RA2 realized that Rwanda Television, the only television station available to most of the population and renowned for it's extraordinary bad taste in programming, was showing nothing but genocide memorial themed music videos. This month, mourning is a private experience that a whole country shares.

Tell Me That You’re Alright… That Everything is Alright

We’re at that point. The point where we can say things like “This time next week I will be: in a shower, in clean sheets, in a bed bigger than a twinsize (made of something besides RwandaFoam), drinking an iced coffee, etc.” But, for everything we’re looking forward to, we are incredibly, incredibly sad to be leaving Rwanda.

It’s hard to explain. As two girls who really love heels, America and Perez Hilton, how can we miss this developing country with its uberlimited internet bandwidth, 20-people-in-a-space-meant-for-7 bus rides, and perpetually muddy feet? But we will, because somehow this country has completely stolen our hearts. And if anyone knows the RAs – our hearts are famously hard to steal.

We came to Rwanda for one reason – and it was not the typical, bleeding-heart, volunteer reason. It was because we needed to see our lives from a new perspective (cue new Panic at the Disco song…). One of us quit her job and is in the process of finding a new one and the other was accepted to every grad school she applied to. Our lives are in completely different places, but the fact that we needed to turn our backs on our old lives and move forward with new glasses was at the heart of both of our motivations for coming here.

And Rwanda did not fail us. It may have tried to get us down (scrunching us into bus seats; making coffee irrationally difficult to find in a country for which it is a major export; frowning upon eating in public), but some days it gave us a sunrise or a sunset or a city view that took our breath away. Some days Rwanda sent us children who were dead set on making us miserable and other days their cuteness and sweet faces made us melt. Also not to be forgotten were the $1 beers that were as big as our heads… and some days, those went a long, long way.

We became part of Rwanda’s blossoming art scene. We learned a pretty formative Kinyarwandan vocabulary. We become muzungu aunties to a newborn. We saw giraffes and zebras. We pee’d in places that we dare not even THINK about ever again. We became “Teacha! Teacha!” to a hoard of children. We became experts in chapatti selection and samosa quality. We became lovers of Primus. We went to Congo. We stood on the shores of Lake Kivu. We were extremely, unquestionably lucky.

And now, its time to open a new chapter. Fortunately, we truly feel like we’re keeping in the same book. Before we came to Rwanda, we were excited to begin a whole new book. But now, this book, the one that has Kigali as its first chapter, is the book we’re excited to write. It’s the book that one of will write from grad school and the other will write from a desk somewhere. It’s the book that lets us start over, never forgetting where we came from, but always knowing where we get to go. It’s the book that’s scattered with African sunsets, giraffes and a group of children who are walking around (seemingly unknowingly) with pieces of our hearts in their grubby, dirty little hands.

Leaving Rwanda is a mildly terrifying prospect. We are happy here. We know what each day will bring. Home is completely unpredictable (finding jobs, paying bills, turning our cells back on), but we know that it's time to finish the story of our lives that we started here (with the understanding that this will take, at minimum, another 120 years and infinite mixed drinks). As we move on, Rwanda will move forward, and as excited as we are to see how it turns out for this, our strangely adopted country, we’re even more excited to see what our book will look like.

You Heard That Right: The RAs Go To Church

On Saturday one of our beloved 16 year old students, Jen, invited us to attend her baptism. In the usual T.I.A. fashion, everything from attempting to show up on time to the follow-up afterwards led to a series of mini-adventures, some quite beautiful, most ridiculous.

We had been told that the church was in Kimironko "by the mosque." We had no idea where it was, and the moto-taxi driver informed us it was actually in Kybagabaga which, due entirely to its name, is RA1s favorite place on earth. When we got to the mosque we started wandering into churches looking for Jen - "Jen ari hehe?" and "Baptism of Jen ari hehe?" - with minimal success. Finally we wandered back up to Kimironko and ran smack into Jen herself, who was looking for us (thank the sweet Rwandan Lord, although we still cannot determine WHY, not that we care). We met Jen's mother and hopped on a bus to Nyabagogo and then on moto-taxis to take us up into the mountains (two notes: the baptism was NOWHERE NEAR THE MOSQUE, thanks, and we spent a lot of time on motos that day). We got about halfway up the mountain when all the motos stopped and Jen's mother got off and began arguing with them. The words "amafaranga" and "nyangahe" were tossed around, leading us to conclude that because of the extremely steep terrain, they were asking for more money. In response, Jen's mother walked off with a purposeful stride, still carrying the moto helmet, until the men in desperation agreed to do what they had agreed to do in the first place, and we all got back on our motos. The trek was so steep that in parts we all, drivers included, had to get off and walk the bikes up the hill, which has never happened in the three months we have been here. But the view was spectacular. We walking along a gushing river, staring at the most beautiful green vistas imaginable. When we got to the top we found a crowd of people and, weirdly, a photographer, and in one of the usual weirdly surreal Rwandan moments, found a crowd of people insisting on having their picture taken with us. Occasionally a woman would throw one of us her baby, adjust her outfit, reclaim her child, smile for the camera, and wander off.

After a few minutes of this and several phone calls, Jen's mother concluded that we were in the wrong place.

Jen and RA1 got on a moto TOGETHER, another new and interesting moto feat for the day, and sped back off to the very bottom of the mountain to make it to Jen's Baptism, while RA2 and Jen's mom went for a long walk. Halfway down, the moto returned, RA2 presumed, to carry her and Jen's mother back down to meet them. But no. The moto, having not negotiated the price upfront, wanted an exorbitant amount of money, and not having gotten said exorbitant amount from Jen and RA1, had come back up the mountain to try his luck with the other muzungu.

By the time RA2 and Jen's mother got down the mountain, Jen was good and baptised. RA1 watched as the Pastor dunked Jen, fully clothed, under a wide and gushing river, true Come-to-Jesus style, and asked her afterwards, "Are you happy?" Jen smiled beatifically, "I am very happy," then smacked her lips, frowned, and said, "That water is very bad."

Afterwards one of the three church pastors, a woman, invited the RAs to attend the service following the baptisms. One bus ride and a moto later, we arrived at the actual church, which was, in fact, quite near the mosque. A terrifically energetic preacher, appearing to have The Spirit coming through him in vast quantities, ranted, prayed, cajoled and extolled, frequently emitting a full-bodied "HALLELUJAH" followed by the congregation's equally heartfelt "AMEN!" At intervals, the entire church would get up out of their chairs and dance with unrivaled enthusiasm, occasionally dropping to the floor in unison to pray for their specific names. The no-less passionate but slightly more controlled pastor would then rise and, praying in both English and Kinyarwandan , would explain the Kingdom of God, which apparently asks for your energy, your time, your power and your money (in an odd stroke of weird, we heard her giving the same sermon on the radio this morning over breakfast). Some version of this went on for several hours until RA2, late and hungry, quietly excused herself.

RA1 stayed to witness what was clearly the highlight of the day: a Rwandan exorcism. At some point roughly 4 hours into the service (not joking) two of the pastors went over to a woman lying on the floor and began shaking her violently and praying. The man next to RA1, who had been translating, looked at her thoughtfully and said, "She has a demon," then returned to watching the events unfold. As the pastors went on shaking and praying until RA1 feared they might actually break the woman's ribs, the man would sometimes turn and comment thoughtfully, "They are getting the devil out of her," or "Yes, she has a demon."

In summation, we have truly never seen Jen so happy. When she sings and dances she is a completely different person. This country desperately needs extracurricular activities.

Folks, We Haaaaaaaave a Winner

Claudine has named her beautiful daughter Cynthia, pronounced, in the French-influenced Kinyarwandan way, Sehn-tee.

Surprise Visit

It truly is Good Friday!!!! Today we got a phone call telling us that the women we visited in Gisenyi had just arrived in Kigali and were coming to see us. We pulled ourselves out of our various stages of post-Salsa night (hey, they told us we had the day off!) and ran down to the office.

We'll post pics as soon as we get our hands on them from today - but we are very excited to bring to you today all the picture updates from our last trip to Gisenyi. You can check out the full album on our Snapfish account.

Words can't begin to describe the women we've met in Rwanda - but especially the women in Gisenyi. They are so brave and so energetic. They came in to Kigali dressed to kill and carrying a letter to the FVA headquarters requesting additional support for their upcoming ventures to reach out to more women. They told our bosses Claire and Willy that they had been really encouraged by our visits and wanted to keep expanding their network. The Manolos wanted to cry (ok, maybe we did cry....) we were so excited for these women. Then - they really did make us want to cry when they proposed that their foundation, when they have it up and running, should be named after us. [Little did they know, both of the Manolos are deep in job search mode currently and could have possibly jumped on any opportunity to find employment ;-)].

It was an amazing visit, even though it was so short. We hope you enjoy the updates below of our trip to Gisenyi - they are anything but short, but they are everything as in filled with tons of pictures. These women have a really special place in our hearts and we hope reading their stories and our experiences with them will spur you to acts of courage and inspiration in your day.

Gisenyi Misc

just another day in paradise...

Just a few pictures of the HOARDS of children that followed us to the women's houses, walked around with us on the streets and generally made us feel like we were being paparazzi'd

...We love this place...

General pictures of merriment around Lake Kivu & the Volcano (Our last time to see them for a long time)

Gisenyi Day 5 : Sewing & Final Meeting with the Ladies

It was a sad day. First, because RA1 had to use a ‘village bathroom’ which equals, a latrine. A latrine minus a toilet and a hole that stretches across the entire bottom of the bathroom house. The bathroom house also had a door. However, aforementioned door covered about 1/3 of the doorway.

Besides general bathroom related horror, we had a great morning sewing designs onto bedsheets with our ladies. We got to see some of their finished products which were incredible to say the least. The designs were intricate, yet not kitchy and so beautiful. It takes 2-3 months for the ladies to finish one sheet. The sheets aren’t the best income generator for the women, so as of right now, the embroidery is a side activity they all take part in.

Our last activity in Gisenyi was to sit in on a co-op meeting. We had some things to catch up on since our last meeting, like had the ladies thought any further about funding options for securing their own meeting place. The ladies had some clear apprehensions towards microfinance. Once bitten, twice shy type thing and they were nervous to open up the information about their co-op far and wide. We completely understood and also talked through some other options.

These ladies have been able to do so much (clearly demonstrated in the short amount of time we were able to see) and we have no doubts that they are going to do amazing things in the very near future. We are so proud and so lucky to have met these women and been able to share this week with them. They are such an inspiration to two young, American, Recovering Assistants and we will hold them in our hearts forever.

Gisenyi Day 4 : Farm Visit & Clinic Tour

Last time we came, we ho’d. This time we came, we ho’d not. Because our ho’s were not needed – they had planted THE ENTIRE PLOT OF LAND! There was corn for days. CORN FOR DAYS. RA1 felt at home for a few brief moments in the giant corn field – until her eyes fell upon the mango trees thrown throughout. We were really excited to have our dear fellow volunteer Margaret with us to give her a little taste of what we had been doing with the women.


Since there was nothing for us to do at the farm, Christine took us to the clinic she works at. Christine dispenses medicine to HIV positive patients, does individual and couples’ counseling, and works at the hospital each day. As we walked into the building where counseling takes place the patients broke out in a traditional Rwandan ‘Welcome Dance’ and cheered as we walked in. (Full Disclosure : We were so NOT equipped to counsel, so we’re wondering why exactly these people are excited for our arrival!!) We're not sure if words can accurately express the hope that flooded that room full of people. They were smiling, laughing, clapping and were sitting in a room waiting to receive medicine for a disease that will eventually end their lives. It was so inspirational to see the faces of women, teenagers, children, men and the elderly all joining in on the singing when they were in this room to face the reality that they were fighting a disease that would take their lives.


Before we left, Christine showed us her mushroom operation. Mushrooms have a nice piece of protein in them, but are very expensive in Rwanda. Christine grows them at the clinic (in the mushroom house – see pics) and sells some of them and gives others to the patients gratis. Even if its more of a mental thing on the nutritional value of mushrooms for HIV/AIDS patients, it clearly goes a long way as the patients were way excited to get the boxes she handed out.

Gisenyi Day 3 : Tye and Dye

When we said these ladies had a factory we weren’t kidding. But this time, we came to shop! We did some of our own patterns (and by ‘our own’ we clearly mean they showed us what to do and we did it!) and then they let us help with the dying. It was fun visiting with the ladies and then they made us an amazing lunch of sweet potatoes! Check out below the step-by-step process we went through with them to make some beautiful tye-dye cloths.






Sidenote: we met the coolest little girl in the world – Baby (her nickname… still not sure of her first name). She loved RA1s sunglasses and spent most of the day not taking them up and making RA2 flip her upside down.

Gisenyi Day 2 : Doll Making With Ruth

Our last visit to Ruth included us showing our venerable non-talent for sewing. This time around, Ruth gave us a much easier task: braiding doll hair.

Clearly, we were both once partial Barbie princesses, so this was a fun and easy task. Ruth told us that she had been selling her dolls like hot cakes and was in the process of preparing a big order for an upcoming Craft Exposition to take place in Kigali in May. This is awesome visibility for her and the ladies she works with.

She also told us that the woman who had taught us last time was in Butare for two months with the Imbuto Foundation (Janet Kagame’s Initiative) teaching more women how to make dolls and other income generating skills. It was another day of mind blowing accomplishments for our ladies. We were also pretty excited to snag our own dolls [no photos though – they may or may not be presents for some of our readers ;-)].

Gisenyi Day 1 : Mining With Vestine

Last time we were in Gisenyi, we didn’t do the big plunge into the volcanic rock mines, but this time – we were down. The men and women that work in these mines are phenomenal. RA1 had always considered the summer jobs in her homeland (bailing hay on farms) as the hardest jobs on Earth. She was quickly corrected via 90 pound rocks being stacked on heads.

After touring all FOUR of Vestine’s mines (she had bought three more since the last time we had visited!) we went back to her original mine. As we watched the men slinging the hammers and breaking the rocks, we decided that now was the time – seize the day if you will. We headed down to the mine and asked the men if it would be okay if we gave the ol’ hammer a few swings. With a perplexed look, he looked to Clemence (our translator/Girl Friday) to make sure we weren’t losing each other in translation.

Since we were properly armed this time with cameras, enjoy the photographic evidence of our mining prowess.

To The Field We Will Go

Hey faithful readers :)

Your resident Manolos are heading back out into the field this week!! We're excited to see these women that inspired us so much on our last trip. We're looking forward to using heavy hoes in the field, sewing dolls with them and purchasing some of the fabulous things they make. AND we're traveling with a camera this time so you will see so much photographic proof of us in the villages it will make your head spin!!

We'll be a bit limited on the internets, but I'm sure we'll amass a bevy of stories to share with you throughout the week.

xoxo
nic & kaitlyn

Radio Rwanda

Everybody dies famous in a small town - and for a big city Kigali is a very, very small town. Tuesday afternoon our friend Charles called and told us that he has two friends who do a radio program every week, and they needed guests for that evening. Since it interfered with dinner, the highlight of our day, it's a good thing we owe Charles many favors, or we might have said no (Charles is Collin's brother, of Ivuka fame, and pretty much runs everything with iron-clad efficiency). As it was, we said yes, grabbed our fellow volunteer Margaret (MARGE!) and got a very cool inside look at mass communications in the developing world.

The two hosts of the show are women, which we thought was awesome. They do an English-language show called The Melting Pot, which they hope reaches people trying to learn English, but they're pretty sure just reaches people who know them personally. Their show is on a Muslim station, so we were told no swearing and no Jesus. This is a shame, because what ended up happening was that all of us sat around and traded ridiculous stories of things that happened to us due to communication failures and culture differences, and some of our best stories definitely involve Jesus. Nevertheless, we managed to be entertaining enough to get invited back again next week! We will most likely be in the middle of our last trip to Gisinye and unable to take them up on the offer, but luckily, through us, they have tapped a rich reserve of volunteers with many hilarious accounts of our ineptitude. We also got to meet Mark, a friend of theirs who is organizing a genocide awareness march on April 7th, the national day of remembrance. There are going to be marches in Kenya and Uganda as well, and next year, they're hoping to organize one in NYC, which we will totally be attending. Mark actually worked as a radio host for awhile and it definitely showed; he was incredibly professional and lovely to listen to. He also wasn't bad to look at - we suggested he should look into TV. The two ladies also graciously caught us up on some of the music we had missed over the last three months (hello, Wyclef did a new "We Are the World"?! why were we not informed!!), and entertained us by attempting, for what we would discover was the one millionth or so unsuccessful time, to get the call and text-in system at the station to work for them. They also broke some things, like a chair and a set of headphones. Basically, it looked a lot like it would probably look if the Manolos were allowed to run rampant around a radio station with no chaperones - AWESOME.

Newest Little Member of Our Rwandan Family!

Our friend Claudine, whose daughter Sylvie RA2 is sponsoring through school, just had a little daughter, and we had the privilege of meeting her the day after she was born. As we told Claudine, not every little girl comes into the world with two ready-made muzungu aunties! Rwandans don't name their children until they're three weeks old, and the conversation about that went something like this:

Claudine: What are you going to name my daughter?
Manolos: ???? We're not going to name your daughter! YOU'RE going to name your daughter!
Claudine: OK, I will tell you a name, and you can name her that.

Since Claudine's daughter was born on International Women's Day, we did throw out a few appropriate ideas: Hillary (Clinton), Margaret (Thatcher), and Debra and Kelly for our moms.

We've said over and over that the best part about living here for three months has been having the time to form deeper relationships with the people we work with, and there couldn't be a better example of that than the privilege of being here long enough to get to know Claudine, meet her daughter the day after she entered the world, and watch them name her.

It was also really interesting to get a sense of what maternal health looks like here. The baby was born in a clinic, not technically a hospital:


The women have a dorm-style room to recover in afterwards. They bring everything they might need with them, including their own sheets:

Does the look on that baby's face, or it does it not, say "Who the hell are you, and why are you made of the wrong stuff?"

Yes, that IS in fact RA1 EVER SO GENTLY cradling a newborn. They were right - the strangest things happen in Africa:

Beautiful mommy and new baby!