Tuesday, June 29, 2010

That's so Rwanda Part 4

Only in Rwanda....


…can you tell the type of motorbike in the pitch dark, when it’s coming from behind, just by listening to the engine

…do you find yourself saying things “I’d much prefer flea bites” at dinner parties. (As opposed to all the other bites you could get here)

…can you see the following being carried on the heads of people: buckets, bunches of bananas, backpacks, baskets, hoes, bags of shoes, bags of anything – really, queen sized mattresses, oil barrels and refrigerators. (I kid you not. A freakin’ REFRIGERATOR!)

…should you NEVER tell your moto to race another motorcycle. They will. And those things can FLY!

…does the electricity go out in the entire Eastern Province just after kick off in the England vs. Germany game and so you spend the first half huddled around a radio listening to the score and receiving text messages from home with updates. (My English colleagues are still talking about Lampard’s “goal” and I’m just happy that the power didn’t come back on until the second half so they didn’t have to see it)

…do you know what a “kibazo” is.

…does your moto driver run out of petrol 200m from your house and as you slow to a stop he says “No problem”, motions you off the bike, tips said bike upside down, puts it right, and Voila! Problem solved.

…does your moto driver see police ahead, and instead of driving between them on the road, goes on to the shoulder to go around – 10 FEET from the police – and continue on his merry way without being stopped. And only then does he say “Anna. Problem of police is speed. Fine is 50,000 francs.” And only then do you know that the truth is your driver does not have a problem of speed (because he is practically out of petrol – see above) but that his problem is that he does not have a license.

…do you feel like a rock star everywhere you go. Unless, of course, you actually are a rock star. In that case, you’d probably feel like a rock star wherever you went EXCEPT Rwanda. Unless you were Celine Dion, Kenny Rogers, Shania Twain or Medy. Then you’d feel like a rock star here too.

…do you hide in your mosquito net when you hear strange sounds at night because, let’s face it, you live alone in the middle of Africa and NOTHING is getting me out of this mosquito net at night

…do have one pot to both boil water for showers and cook your sweet potato and lentil stew. So your showers smell slightly of onions and garlic but it seriously does not matter after a 40 minute motorcycle ride through dust.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Photos: STILL coming

I went into my living room with every intention of adding photos to this little blog when I heard a faint buzzing sound by the window. I saw a wasp. And another. And another. And another. The noise was getting louder as I recalled the first time I met Tina. This was three days before I moved to Kibungo and she had woken up in the morning to find the living room full of bees. She killed them all and we were still finding bodies a week later. So, I rushed to grab my trusty can of Bop, when I realized that I've been bug free for a few months and my can was empty. So, I walked to the Round-Point store to get another can, came back, took my bug killing stance (rubber gloves and with my head band turned into a mask so I'm not breathing in nerve killing insecticide myself). Bees are gone. Floor is littered with their bodies. Pictures are still not posted. Sigh.

Update: Photos are up....there are a lot. They go back two weeks and are in reverse order. They follow the next entry or you can see them on the right under Archives. Thanks to Christine, JC, Jeremy and Jason for most of the pictures. Enjoy!

Two Weddings and a Funeral (Alternate Title: I went to a wedding and all I got was this lousy Fanta!)

So goes the conversation with experienced volunteers:

Them: “Anna, have you ever been to a Rwandan wedding?”

Me: “No, not yet. But I’d like to.”

Them: “Just make sure you eat before you go.”

Friday night was the party for Rema’s sister and we headed to her house at about 9 o’clock. It is near enough my house and when we arrived there was little going on. A tent had been set up in the yard and a bamboo fence erected around the house to prevent visitors from wandering around. Soon enough the music began and so did the dancing. Imagine African pop music with the odd song by Acon (is that his name anyway?). Now imagine Rwandan with rhythm and then, me. I’ve never felt whiter and I don’t love dancing at the bar at the best of times but when in Rome….or in Kibungo. At 12:30 the DJ unplugged the plug. Quite literally. In the middle of the song but then again, people needed to get home and sleep to be prepared for the wedding. We headed home and late to bed, early to rise the next morning meant that Saturday was going to be a long, long day.

The invitation said 10 o’clock for the following morning. We were told we should be there by 11. Of course, as in true fashion, Christine and I had a long breakfast with good fruit and great coffee and time got away from us. At 10:45, Rema called us and said we should be there now. So we quickly showered and arrived by 11:30. The wedding still hadn’t started but unfortunately all the seats in the shade had been taken and me, with a combination of doxycyline and Irish genetics running through my system, my SPF 30 wasn’t enough to prevent the burning process. Thankfully a few people left early and we snuck under the shade so that for the majority of the 3-hour dowry ceremony we were protected from the sun.

Rwandan weddings go like this: Weeks before the ceremony the couple is married in a civil ceremony in the Sector offices where they make promises, not to God, but to the country and Mr. Kagame and all that. Then, weeks later, there is a Friday night party (see above) followed by a dowry ceremony the next morning, followed by a religious ceremony, followed by a religious ceremony, followed by a reception. And if you’re lucky, you’ll drink a few dozen Fantas and eat a piece of meat….or two.

Rema’s sister was having her dowry ceremony in Kibungo with the reception to following in Kigali but we decided to forgo Kigali in favour of attending another wedding of a colleague of Christine’s. Okay…so where were we? Oh…arriving an hour and half late but yet still not being late.

During the dowry ceremony the families sit under tents on each side of the property and the groom’s family offers the father of the bride a number of things from Fanta to beer to cows but when Rema’s dad asked for 8 cows, the grooms family said it was too many. There were cows and they sent a vet and a cowboy to inspect their quality. Of course, this is all for show and it’s as if you’re watching a play, complete with no cow but a CD with the sound of a mooing cow played on the loud speakers. The bride and groom have yet to arrive but when they do, it’s quite traditional. The men are wearing traditional gowns and carry either staffs or spears. The women bring baskets and gifts for the groom. There are jokes and promises – all in Kinyarwanda but we got the point. Eventually the groom must ask permission of the bride’s brothers and they share a kiss on the cheek and Voila! They are married! We were given food – two cubes of a meat, one small potato and some rice – and of course a Fanta. Three hours later, the family was ready to head to Kigali and we were ready to head to wedding number 2. This one begins at 3:00pm and so we’ve got about a half another to walk there.

On the way we stop to visit Jeremy at 3:30 decide we should make our way to the church. But there is no one around and the few women waiting seem to think there is no wedding going on. Maybe we have the wrong church? We walk to another church (Rwanda has as many churches as they have police checks. And they have as many police checks as they have banana trees….). Nope. No wedding there either. But by the time we make it back to check the church again it’s already 4:30 and finally the busses had arrived. So, we were at the right church but just early. Well, we arrived late but still early because the wedding started 1 ½ late. This is a Catholic church a Catholic wedding (dowry ceremony had taken place earlier that day in Christine’s village). The bride wore white – she also was about 6 months pregnant!

It was the first time I’d been in a church since arriving in Rwanda, save for the time we were stuck in Nyarabuye during a rainstorm. I’ve my own reasons for avoiding being in Rwandan churches but I supposed this was a good excuse to take communion for the first time since arriving. And I was looking forward to the predictability of a Catholic Mass where, even if we didn’t understand the language, we could predict the duration based on the staples: first reading, gospel, sign of peace, communion etc. Predictability, though, goes out the window when one hour later we still have changed bread into body. The songs seemed to go on forever, and forever, Amen. Having been raised attending Mass regularly, we were getting it. At least we thought we were getting it all. (Sign of peace – thankfully we can say Peace in Kinyarwanda – amahoro – and look not too out of place). However, when the bride and groom stood with baskets at the front and collected money, we thought this was our opportunity to give the traditional gift of 5000 Francs. Great! We’re prepared. Christine went up and placed the money in the basket. Noticing only 100 Franc coins we didn’t think anything of it until later when we realized that this wasn’t the gift for the couple, it was the collection basket. So, a big muzungu donation to St. Andre’s, I suppose. Eventually we reached transubstantiation and, in my limit Kinyarwanda, I tried to follow. I’m pretty sure there was something said about onions but I can’t really be sure. I did take communion and was surprised to learn that it tastes the same. Like McDonald’s French fries, I suppose, the Vatican has a recipe which all churches must follow. Two and half hours later, the ceremony is over and we head outside to walk over for the reception. We’re hungry (it’s dinner time after all) but going to St. Joseph’s – my local haunt for brochettes and chips – but after two more hours, one Fanta, and a few speeches in Kinyarwanda, we’ve been given a small piece of cake and sent on our way.

Are you disappointed in me that in all this cultural experience, all I can think about is food? You would too. Trust me. I think I’ve had so many Fantas at celebrations, in lieu of food, that I will soon turn into one. (Talking to Peace Corps volunteers, I realize I’m not the only one. We all talk about and think about food. Always.) In reality, the lack of food was worth it. To be part of some of the biggest celebrations that happen in Rwanda, was worth it. We had a great day!

Jason and Jeremy had arrived at St. Joseph’s to watch the USA v. Ghana match and at one point, I sent them an SMS to order us brochette and chips. The wedding finished early enough for us to see the US tie the match, to the disgust of both the Rwandans (who were cheering for Ghana) and the Canadians (who were cheering against the Americans). In the end, it was the Americans funeral. They are out. In extra time, Ghana scored sending the crowd at St. Joseph’s into a frenzy.

FINALLY….after hours and hours…after two weddings and an American funeral….after a few Fanta, a few pieces of meat and a piece of cake….we arrived back at Chez Anna and collapsed into a much needed night of rest.

Photos: Wedding #2

Bridge and Groom arrive at the Church
Traditional Catholic ceremony
After the vows, the couple had to dance in the traditional Intore style
Now there are people bringing money up. This is Christine and I discussing what to do. We thought it was time to give the 5000 Franc gift. So we did. We were wrong. It was the collection and we should have given a couple hundred only. Whoops.
If we only knew this was the collection basket!
A 2 1/2 hour wedding is long for even Rwandans. This guy was checking his phone.
Choir
Choir director and his never ending songs
Christine and I with the Vice Mayor of Keirhe District, Bernadette
Even they get Fantas....
....but eventually we found some beer!

Photos: Wedding #1

Member of brides family asking for a dowry.
Bride arrives (this is a traditional Rwandan- Muslim wedding)
Bridesmaids bearing gifts
Dancers
Groom getting through the men in the brides family
Happily married

Are we there yet?
Crowd from the town gathered outside to watch also.
Traditional Rwandan furniture. Yes, those are made of banana leaves.
Christine and Rema
Ismael - the proud Father of the Bridge

Photos: Another workshop in Kibungo.


After four days of training, I finally remembered my camera. Just in time to catch a few visual aids on film....and a Happy baby.







Seriously...this baby is Happy. That's her name. Happy. She was two months old and spent a good part of her time in my arms. She was Happy but not as nice as Nice. Nice was the baby that was there the day before. Seriously. That was her name. Nice. Happy and Nice. How could you not love them?

Photos: Jason's birthday . Whoops. No pictures of Jason

Since learning that Jenga is a Swahili word, that games seem so much cooler. And when you enjoy a large Primus with it. Well....



Oh. No. Wait. There's Jason. In the back!

Photos: Farewells in Kigali June 18 and 19

In Kigali to attend the Leavers' Forum and going away dinners for both Ruairi and Karen.

4am. Our hotel. Tap that had been left on but no water. Water came back on. At 4am. We had a flood in our room....which went out to the hall.


And the next day at Papyrus Restaurant (where I'm pretty sure Evangeline Lilly was eating next to us!)
True Canadian representation: A Francophone, an Anglophone and a bi-lingual Canadian.
The gangs all here.
Karen, Sarah, Mel and Libby
Christine and Karen
Our 4:30am wake up call to see of Karen as she left for Tanzania. Oh the memories of the Taqwa bus.
Don't go.....
...but she did!

And later at what used to be called Handee.... to say good bye to Ruairi.
Food was amazing
At one point we could not find a server to replace our beers and then they all showed up dancing and singing happy birthday to Ruairi. Apparently, they mistook his going away for a birthday party. Oh well. Free cake!

Photos: Why Anna is out of duct tape

See the bowl at the top of the photos? I tried to duct tape it to the side of my shower to keep soap in. Amy's comment was "What's with the ghetto soap dish?" So I tried to pull it off. In doing so, I pulled all the tiles off. Whoops. Oh well...nothing a little duct tape won't help!




Photos: TTC Zaza June 14 and 15

Arriving on Day 2: Mary, Damien, Me, Jason, Innocent
Assembly in the morning
In an effort to have a model lesson with new content, we decided to teach about the provinces of Canada. Here is me with a map asking students what they think it is. The look on my face might have been in response to one answer. "Is it a map of America?"
NO! It's Canada...
...and I'm from Alberta
Now you try and fill in the provinces.
I taught them the game "Molecules" that I learned from Paula.
They loved it!
Showing them how to use K-W-L to introduce a new topic.
Coming back from lunch. And yes, I use my rain cover everywhere, every time. Other wise my bag would be red with dirt.
The beginning of teaching about visual aids. I have them put their name cards on the wall and look at them from a distance. Because the concept is so new to Rwanda, many teachers don't realize that sometimes a child simply can't read what's written because it's too small or too untidy.
Jeremy showing the gang what a rice sack is.
Attempting sealing the rice sack with a candle for the first time.
And their off!
Finished products
And more
And more...and Jason
And another....what IS so funny?
Can't leave without taking a photo. Can you see us? Sort of like Where's Waldo, eh?
Nope. It's not a tan.
Just a 45 minute moto ride in the dust.