Moment of Truth

There have been moments when I have somehow forgotten that I'm in Africa.  Like, it just doesn't feel like I'm here (minus the fact that I can't see my family, that is).  I'm not 100% sure what Africa should feel like, but I can say that its nothing like I expected it to be. 

Someone asked me, a few weeks ago, if Rwanda is more or less than what I expected it to be and my answer was that it is much more.  I honestly (and ignorantly) had a Discovery Channel-type image in my head of what Rwanda (or all of Africa for that matter) might look like.  I didn't expect a "normal" city (whatever normal is), I didn't expect "normal" houses (again, whatever normal is); however I did expect to see paper-thin children with pot bellies and their parents with torn clothing and no shoes.  The "normal" I expected to see much resembled that of pre-colonized Africa...you know, the stick houses with no ceilings, the men in loin cloths, giraffes and monkeys walking around all over, etc.  I could very easily blame National Geographic and any other sources for my faulty images of Africa, however I think it would only be fair for me to blame myself.  I never did much research of my own on the countries of this continent until it was time for me to come here.  Even still, the images that I had seen throughout my life kept me from believing that any country in Africa would actually have cell phones, healthy babies, tall buildings, or any form of civilized life.  So when I say that sometimes I forget that I am in an African country, I mean it in the sense that its nothing like the images that have been painted in my head my entire life...

A couple of weeks ago, I went on a visit deep into the village with three of my coworkers.  This was  the first time that I actually felt like I was in "Africa."  I saw some barely standing houses, made of mud only; no cement or tin roof to protect them from the rain...one-room houses for families of six children and one parent (two if they are lucky) living in the house with them...houses with the kitchen being 3 rocks sitting outside in a triangle with sticks in the middle so a lit fire can heat the food...the list goes on.

Going into the village to visit the families with malnourished children was absolutely heartbreaking and eye-opening.  The children had arms just a little bit thicker than my thumbs and their parents spoke on how their entire family eats just one meal each day...and how the mothers cannot even give their starving children breast milk because they, too, are malnourished (at some point, their bodies just stop producing milk).  After visiting with these families and hearing their stories, I immediately felt a slight pang of guilt.  Here I am, in Rwanda among the poorest of the poor, toiling and stressing over the dresser that I needed for my clothes and the pantry that I just had to have for my food.  I never stopped to think of the fact that many of the people around me don't even have clothes to put in a dresser or food to put in a pantry.  Most of the people I see on a daily basis around the health center seem more or less well-off, but it was when I walked behind the main road and a short distance away from the health center that I saw how bad things can really be.  I had the chance to see people who live with the bare minimum...yet their hearts are still so full;  I had the chance to see for myself why I am here and where I can do my best to make a difference; and I had the chance to realize that I don't really need all of the things that I "need" to live...the bare minimum is more than enough.

There is a lesson to be learned in all of this and a reason why the Lord sent me here; and I do hope that within these two years, I fulfill my purpose and allow Him to use me in any way that He sees fit.  I know it may sound a little cliché, but I genuinely want to make a difference.  I want to impact someone and leave my mark.  And for the first time in my life, I want to be 100% selfless. 100%.  Selfless.

Love and Peace Corps,

Dametreea