How I Fell In Love In Rwanda

I’m sure some of you saw the title of the post and thought – “Whaaaaaat?” This is not a love letter and its not a confession of elicit romances set to the tune of a blog post. It is a thank you. A thank you to a certain someone(s) that make each day here in Kigali remarkable. A thank you to the children that took my Grinch-like heart (towards children) and made it grow 'three sizes larger.'

Thoughtful friends of mine will surely be picking their chins up off their desks at this precise moment. I have never lied about my… shall I say indifference – I feel aversion would be too strong – towards children of all ages. I specifically signed up for a program that involved adults and not children here in Rwanda. On my first day in the country (after a serious lack of caffeine, my first day of malaria pills AND 72 hours with no sleep) I was introduced to a large contingent of children who I was told “will be your kids!” I was horrified. Who were these children? Why would they be mine? What exactly would I be doing with them? WHERE WERE THE WOMEN?!

It was similar to dating, those first few weeks. I never knew what the next day would bring; I would make plans that were often sidelined; I was interrupted; I was misunderstood; some days were amazing, others made me want to eat glass. Ok – so it was like dating in DC, not the rest of the world. After a month of basically tolerating each other, the children and I came to a good place: they went back to school and I didn’t have to teach them everyday. This would be what we would refer to as the “honeymoon phase” in a relationship. We were happily rolling through tutoring sessions, they were teaching me how to teach them in Kinyarwandan (I learned words like “Listen” “Write” “Sit” “What is this?”) and dance lessons were also included.

After six weeks – it was official. I had fallen in love with my kids. I knew all of them by name (highly useful when needing to tell them to stop hitting each other or when needing one of them to translate) and they all knew my capacity to speak their language. I wasn’t under the stress of developing lesson plans, so I was able to enjoy being with the kids and doing their homework with them. Kaitlyn was able to turn a Marie Claire into a reading comprehension project with our older kids and I was able to fully realize my grasp on middle school math. The kids helped me learn how to explain things in Kinyarwandan, taught me new words and new traditional dance moves – in exchange I provided them with the opportunity to master things like: The Electric Slide, Musical Chairs, The Chicken Dance and geometry (clearly listed in order of importance).

So, this letter is to you my dear, dear children of our little school house. Thank you Pauline for always comprehending what I’m saying and translating what I say to younger students. Thank you Jean de Dieu for that one time you wrote an entire multiplication table on your leg because I forgot to give you scrap paper. Thank you Redempta for loving your name and always saying it in a way that sounds like “Re-Dumpt-A.” Thank you Olivera for looking like a chipmunk and clicking your tongue in a way that actually sounds like a chipmunk too. Thank you Sandrine for being the smartest little girl I have ever met and for always letting me hug you every time you walk in the door. Thank you Adison for being 5 and for all the things that make you awesome like every time I say “Go home” you say “NO!” but then leave anyway. Thank you for loving high fives and making them an acceptable form of reward for a job well done. Thank you for playing with our hair when we've ran out of things to do in class. Thank you for singing Meddy at the top of your lungs in the bus on our field trip.

When I think about all the things I will miss about Kigali and Rwanda, these children are at the top of the list. They dominate the list actually. I don’t know many children under the age of 12 that I like that much – but these kids I want to put them ALL in my luggage and bring them home with me. I want them to be a solid presence in my life everyday. As I stare down the barrel of 4 weeks left with these amazing kids, every day is special and every day with them I’ve begun to appreciate more than they know. I figure they all probably think I’m crazy when I hug them a little longer than usual nowadays – but hey, what is love if there isn’t someone clinging on til the last moment?


Sincerely,

nicole