Happy weekend, friends kure kandi hafi! First, an apology. I have yet to post a single picture from Rwanda on my blog or on facebook. I could offer up a litany of excuses: people stare enough already, I have no electricity, the internet is slow and sporadic, etc. Actually, those are pretty good excuses. But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words--and as a word nerd, I have quite a few words stockpiled and ready for use. So today, I'm going to take you all on a tour of my village. With a little imagination, hopefully you can see where I live!
Let's start at my house. Walk out of the gate (and be careful about the bridge--people have been known to slip and fall...goons...) and look left. The rutted, dirt road heads almost straight up into the mountains. Right across the street, there will probably be a few men hanging out, laying the foundation for a new house that is being built. Past that, the hill drops off dramatically into the valley. If you squint, you can make out women in dusty ibitengi cultivating sweet potatoes. There are a few little goat paths that go down into the valley; you will probably spot children carrying yellow jerry-cans of water or sugar cane on their heads. My favorite are the kids that carry bean vines on their heads. The vines are so long and rambling that you can barely see the child beneath all the vegetation. It looks just a like a giant mutant bean plant lumbering slowly up the hill. Disconcerting at first, yes, but now just hilarious!
Alrighty, let's head left. We're going to have to climb up some pretty steep hills if we want to go all the way to Rusumo, the market town 5 kilometers away. First, we'll pass the pasture behind my house. Various livestock show up there. I swear to god that the goats like to peep in my bathroom window while I pee. There are also a few chickens that run around mindlessly and occasionally come to visit my back porch. If you're lucky, the cow will be out, swishing his tail and mooing contented. Or, there might be a mismatched collection children playing soccer with a ball made out of twine and plastic sacks.
Keep walking up the hill, if you feel up to it, and you'll pass more sweet potato fields, banana groves, and children shouting "Komera!" You'll also see lots and lots of maize. People will ask, "And this, does it exist in America?" You will reply in the affirmative, but you can tell that they don't quite believe you. Then you will tell them that we call it "corn" and lose all your tenuous credibility.
There will be an endless parade of women coming and going to the market or to the village. Their ibitengi wraps are dazzling, even the ones that look to be years old. They will stare at you inscrutably, until you stop and greet them in Kinyarwanda. Then their eyes will light up and their faces will break into the most brilliant smiles you've ever seen. Some of them will shake your hand, some of them will hug you, some of them will try to drag you into the forest to visit their house, but they will all walk away softly murmuring to each other "Kinyarwanda arakize!" (She speaks Kinyarwanda!).
Further up the road is the Pentecostal church. If you peer off the side of the road to the left, past the pine trees that grow tall and perfume the air, the valleys and hills will roll on forever into the distance. The church is a happening place, and you will often hear drums, singing, and the rhythm of dancing feet drifting out of its open windows.
By now you're beginning to wonder if the ground is ever going to level out. It doesn't, but you're almost to the top of the mountain. When you finally reach the top, you can continue along the road down to Rusumo for another 3 K or so, or you can turn left and wander along the ridges for awhile. If you go left, you will probably hear something like this:
Child on hill: "Umuzungu!"
Child in valley: "Ari he?"
Hill: "Umuhanda!"
Valley: "Ehhhhh. Ni Katerina!"
Florence and her brothers will come running from their hut in the valley to greet you with a rousing chorus of "Komera" and "Good morning!" Anton knows to say "Good afternoon," and will correct his siblings if they get the greeting wrong. After spending five minutes chatting in a pigeon of KR and English, you continue on your way, and the little kids follow you down the road for awhile, dancing and singing. The road runs out after awhile, but if you venture up into the hills again, you can walk along another ridge and eventually come to a flat stretch of grass with the most amazing tree. It'll probably remind you of Rafiki's tree from the Lion King. Sitting beneath it, you can look out and see a large percentage of Rwanda's one thousand hills, as well as the winding curves of the Nyaborongo river.
Now let's go back to my house. It is only a ten minute walk to get from my house to the school. The village itself is in a tiny dip between two hills, and in the mornings the fog settles in a thick blanket over everything. Turn right from my gate, and start walking down hill. On your left is the health center. In the mornings it is very busy, and the gentle buzz of Kinyarwanda will fill your ears. The village center itself consists of a few shops, a barbershop, and a few houses. Past the last shop, you can take a road down into the valley and eventually arrive at Cyome, another market town. Make sure to stop and greet people as you walk to school--even the drunkypants that hang out in front of one of the shops. If you're lucky, you'll be walking at the same time as the preschoolers. They'll see you and start to spread their arms wide. Stop, and open your arms wide. You won't be able to help but smile as you are swarmed by a giggling mass of tiny Rwandan children.
The school is literally where the road ends. It is on top of a hill, with yet another million dollar view. In the distance, you can see a few other schools perched atop hillsides, their blue roofs glinting in the sunlight. School is just starting, so you linger outside with the other teachers while you "wait the learners." There is a teachers' room, but it dark and filled with unused desks and broken glass. Your first class is in local one, but you have to wait twenty minutes for the students to finish sweeping out the classroom. This is just as well, as the workmen installed glass panes on the windows earlier this week (while you were teaching) and there were shards everywhere. But now, the fog no longer creeps in during your lessons and obscures the chalkboard!
After you finish teaching, you can head back outside to schmooze with the other teachers or correct lessons in the teachers' room. If you walk past the primary school building, you will see the cow, the maize, and the latrines. You know enough to avoid walking very close to the latrines. There will always be a child or two (or twenty) wandering around the school grounds, or hanging out of the doors, ready to shout "good morning!" at you.
So that's my village! I'll take ya'll with me all the way to Rusumo one of these days, so you can get a feel for the market madness and meet the man who tells me that I am beautiful like his cow.
Weekend nziza!
