Speaking of Love...

I'm just getting home from a wedding that I was invited to a few days ago.  I think I've finally gotten the three ceremonies down.  One is a ceremony in which the bride and groom's fathers give one another gifts, the second is of the signing of the marriage documents, and the 3rd is a reception-type ceremony with food, drinks, dancing, music...you know...regular reception-type activities.   I'm assuming the ceremony I went to today was the one where the two father's exchange gifts, but I'm not too sure since I was two hours late.  The wedding began at 10, however the student I went with came to get me at 12.  The bride is her friend and since she was going, I figured I would wait until she was ready so I wouldn't have to go alone. 

When we arrived, we were ushered to two seats in the  back of the church and asked what kind of Fanta we wanted to drink.  I asked for my usual Orange flavor (which never came, by the way) and then focused my attention on the happenings at the front of the room.  For the short time that I was there (about 1 hour), here is what happened:

Love Struck

Here are a couple of funny (or unfunny) run-ins I've had with love (and like):

"She's My Sister"

I think it's officially safe to say that men are the same everywhere...whether in America or Africa; Arizona or Rwanda, they still insist on lying and playing childish games.  There are about four students who live in the row of houses behind my house and one of them introduced me to her boyfriend a couple of weeks ago when he came to visit.  Ever since then, she's been telling me, "My boyfriend wants to greet you on the phone...when can he greet you??"  Finally one day, she came to my house on the phone and told me that her bf was on the other line.  We greeted one another in English (he speaks English really well) and then I passed the phone back to the girl.  No sooner than she placed the phone next to her ear, she passed it back to me.  Here is how the conversation went:

Me: Yes?

Him: Text me your number, I want to visit you.

Me: When you come to visit your girlfriend, you can both come to visit me.

Him: My girlfriend?  She told you she's my girlfriend?

Me: Yes.

Him: She is not my girlfriend, she is my sister.  Text me your number.

At this point I laughed and passed the phone back to the girl.  She and her "brother" said their goodbyes and then I told her what he said (this conversation was in broken Kinyarwanda since she doesn't speak much English):

The LONG "Short" Walk

One of the Pastor's from  church has been asking me, every single Sunday, when I will come to her house to visit her and her husband.  Finally, I obliged and decided to go on Saturday.  We arranged for a time and the translator at the church told me that he would accompany me.  I didn't know where the Pastor's house was and we wouldn't have been able to have much of a conversation beyond greetings and the topic of food, so I welcomed the translator's company on the journey.  When Saturday, 3pm finally rolled around, myself and the translator started on our way...

...and this is where the adventure began...

Since our mode of transport would be legs, I asked the translator, "Is her house close?" He responded, "No, it is not close."  Then he quickly added, "But it is not very far."  I should have stopped right there and read between the lines, but instead I paid his words no mind.  Not to mention, while we were at church on Sunday, I do remember the Pastor telling me to ride a bike to her house, but again, I paid this no mind.  It can't be too far, right?? I thought to myself.

I couldn't have been more wrong. 

Precious Moments II

More precious moments...

You Are the Limousine of Cars

Four months after all of the jokes from my sister about my "Africa wardrobe," I have finally come to the conclusion that she was absolutely WRONG!  My coworkers seem to love every outfit I put on and they swear up and down I bought all of these clothes here in Rwanda--there's just no way America has all of these wonderful prints and styles.  It's looking like mission Saver's was a success (shout out to my mom)!! lol

One day, one of my coworkers went so far as to say, "Keza, wambaye neza (dressed nicely)...do you know limousine??"  After I confirmed that he was talking about the fancy, long, black car, I responded, "Murakoze (thank you)...yes, I know limousine."  Then he proceeded to ask, "In America, limousines are very nice??"  Again, I said yes and he said, "Well then, you are the limousine of cars."  I responded with a bashful, "Thank you" and proceeded to have a limousine day of days.  (:

Welcome Back!

After being away from my village for a very long and much needed weekend, I never would have imagined I could be so missed.  When you leave the village, everyone and their mama seems to find out so when I came back and walked into work on Monday morning, I felt like I was the favorite little cousin who had left for weeks.  I walked into the morning staff meeting to "Keza!!!! Welcome back!!!" and a million hugs, high fives, and burning cheeks from smiling so hard.  It gets harder and harder for me to ask myself, what am I doing here? when I have all of this waiting for me at work every day.  When I see all of their smiling faces, I know exactly what I'm doing here.  If in these two years all I did was make them smile, my mission will still have been accomplished.  All I want to do is make a difference, and with them I think it's safe to say I already have.

Rwandan Mama's

Precious Moments I

Here are some cute little moments and reasons why I love Rwanda sooo very much!  I have never (before here) met such a people who will embrace you and take you in as their own, knowing nothing more about you than the fact that you are from America.  It's little moments like these that make me feel right at home and so happy that the Lord (and Peace Corps) decided that Rwanda was the best country for me to serve in!

Wellness Check

Me and this not having a fridge thing is hardly working.  I do my best to cook just enough for two meals (lunch and dinner), but sometimes I have a little extra and seeing how I absolutely positively hate to waste food, after letting it sit out all day and/or all night, I end up eating the last little bit.  Well last night something certainly didn't agree.  I don't know if it was the leftover food or the pineapple that I had cut earlier in the day, but something definitely stirred up a rumbly in my tumbly.  I woke up this morning feeling a little under the weather, but I decided to go to work anyway (I spend too much time alone in this house as it is).  As the day progressed, my tummy ache progressed and I eventually told one of my coworkers that I didn't feel well and was going home.  I went home with the intent to nap and rest until I felt better, but just as I had fallen into a peaceful slumber, I heard two people knocking on my door and hollering out, "Keza!! Keza!!!"  When I didn't come to the front door, they went around to the front window and then to the back door to get me to open up.  I didn't feel much like being bothered since I wasn't feeling well, but I got up and went to open the door anyway.  And what did I see?? Two of the nurses from the health center coming to check on me to make sure I was feeling okay and didn't need anything.  In a broken English, one of them said, "We came to see the situation with you."  This warmed my heart.  These two women had no obligation to come and check on me, yet they came anyway, realizing that I am here all alone and have no one to take care of me, but me.  I really appreciate them and their care.  Before they left, one of the nurses said that she was going home to cook and would bring me some food (at least I think that's what she said, this was in Kinyarwanda). My final thoughts on this?? I heart Rwanda...and the people (:  I really do!

Safety and Security

Cows and Constipation

For once, my day started out more or less normal and uneventful, however a couple hours after I got to work, one of my coworkers pulled me in the direction of the health center's cows and told me to come and look.  I wasn't quite sure why he wanted me to go and look at the cows that I had seen so many times before, but I obliged and walked with him anyway.  This was one of my coworkers who speaks pretty good English so along the way, I asked him why we were going over there and he told me, "One of the cows is sick." I asked what was wrong with the cow and he pointed to his stomach and said, "Something is wrong with her stomach.  She can't go..." and then he made a number-two type face and made a sweeping motion behind him with his hand.  I said, "Ooooh she's constipated..." (which btw I had no idea could happen to a cow).  As we got closer to the stable, I noticed the poor cow was flopped over on the ground looking so pained and pitiful (I guess she really was sick).  Seeing how my expertise is not in the arena of cow health, I couldn't for the half of me figure out why he took me over there and after witnessing what came next, I certainly wished he hadn't. 

There were two other men over by the cows: the Cow Boy (that's actually his title, he takes care of the cows) and another man (man #2) who I had never seen before.  I was looking at the cow feeling sorry for it, and when I tore my eyes away from it to look in the direction of man #2, I noticed he was putting on a long blue glove that covered the entire length of his arm.  I wasn't quite sure what it was for, but when I looked over at that poor cow again laying in its own day old mess, I kind of got an idea.  The man began to put a clear gel on the glove and slid it from his finger tips, all the way up to his armpit where the glove stopped.  Next, the man walked over to where the cow was lying down, told the Cow Boy to lift the cow's tail, and then he

Rwanda Facts (or fictions)

I hear so many different stories and tidbits here that I'm starting to have a hard time determining what's fact and what's fiction.  I get the funniest stories and comments at work (funny to me, that is) and then once the story is over and I double over in laughter, my coworkers kind of just stop and stare at me with this I-know-she-does-not-think-this-is-funny face.  I don't know, maybe it's just me, but most of these stories are hilarious (especially when the person telling them is dead serious).  Anyway, I'll let you decide for yourself...here goes:

Millipedes

Little boys must beware of millipedes.  If they are ever bitten by one, their penis will forever be small; the millipede will run off with its newest prized possession and the boy will be left with a malfunctioning penis and the inability to get a girlfriend.  The little boy will love a looooong and very lonely life.

Sex

This seems to be a very popular topic of discussion at work and every time its brought up, I always get a little uncomfortable and (very immaturely) begin to giggle and laugh.  And every time, my coworkers never fail to ask me, "Why do you laugh?? Are you afraid of sex?"  I just keep giggling and proceed to tell them that in America, sex is not an appropriate topic in the workplace.  People don't just sit around talking about sex while at work.  And then ignoring what I just said, they proceed to say to me (in broken English), "You are afraid of sex.  You have a disease."  I say, "A disease?"  They say, "Yes, to be afraid of sex is a serious disease.  It is a terrible sickness."

And now some not-so-funnies, just interesting:

2 A.M. Blues

I woke up about 20 minutes ago with the worse pain in my stomach.  At 2:13 in the morning I'm lying here wiggling my legs beneath the sheets and rubbing my tummy in hope of stopping the pain; I think to myself...noooo, not at 2am!! Please wait until the morning...It's pitch black outside!!!

The PC doctors warned us that it happens to every volunteer--many times-- but I've been lucky enough to escape it for 4 long months, and believe me, it has been great.  Until today.  Yesterday I made some cabbage and questionable carrots (the carrots weren't in the best shape, but I hate to waste food) so I cooked them anyway; and I had my usual tea, but I ran out of Nido, so I was trying a new (less expensive) powdered milk.  My tummy has been acting funky all day today, but ohemgee why did it have to hit me so hard so late in the night (or early in the morning).  Either way, there are several possibilities for culprits.  It could be the fact that all I ate today was toast and tea (with the new powdered milk) for breakfast, Twix and Butterfinger for lunch, and Cheese-Its and Skittles for dinner.  And then again, it could be the cabbage and "bad" carrots that I ate last night.  Whatever it was, it had me up at 2 o clock in the morning, attempting to devise a plan to go outside to my latrine in the pitch-blackness and do so without some crazy person jumping from behind a bush or banana tree to take me out to the far-reaches of Rwanda and leaving me there.

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...

Photos and Care Packages

I was finally able to post all of the photos that I have taken so far! Yayy!! If you haven't already, feel free to follow the link under the Photo Gallery tab so that you can see for yourself how much fun I've been having!!

As for the care packages...THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! You have no idea how much joy those not-so-little boxes of goodies bring me.  I appreciate everything from the candy to the lotion to the spam and tuna!  Did I mention the candy??  After a long day at work or dying from boredom and loneliness, there's nothing like a yummy piece of chocolate to bring me back to life.  I tell no tales when I say that it felt like Christmas time at the post office...and my pantry is looking more like an American mini-mart than like something you'd find in a small mud house smack dab in the center of Rwanda.  Again, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! I had a rough day today and the goodies definitely turned it around.  As of right now, I don't need anything else...but if you're just dying to get something in the mail, a girl can never have too many snacks (: I love and miss you all soooo very much!

Love and Peace Corps,

Dametreea

Rwandan Weddings

The Ceremony:

Rwandan weddings consist of three ceremonies.  A dowry (gift giving) ceremony, a traditional "American" ceremony, and a third one which I am still trying to figure out.  (I'll have to get back to you on that one). 

The Bride: At the ceremonies that I've attended, I have noticed that the bride always looks painfully sad; kind of like she is making the biggest mistake of her life.  After asking someone from my health center why this is always the case, they told me that the bride is supposed to look extremely sad at the wedding ceremony as the fact that she is marrying means that she will be leaving her family's home; a smiling bride is an insult to her family as the attendees will think that she is happy to be leaving her family.

Wedding Rings: The bride wears her wedding ring on her left middle finger until she and her husband perform all three ceremonies.  Only then can she move the ring to her left ring finger. 

Wedding Gifts: Gifts usually consist of animals, food, money, and household items.  The animals (cows, sheep, goats, and/or chickens) come from either the bride or groom's parents; and the food (beans, rice, etc), from what I've seen, comes from some of the mama's and elderly women within the community.  It is customary for the invitees to give a monetary gift to the bride and groom upon being invited  to the wedding (the amount depends on how close they are to the couple); it is also customary for the attendees to bring another gift to the dowry ceremony.  These gifts can range from cultivating tools (hoes and machetes) to kitchen ware (thermoses and glasses). 

Muslim Wedding Highlights: