Farewell Transmission

I'm feeling now, now that a real plane ride is less than 24 hours away, the weight and mass of this year behind me. I don't understand it, I think I want to get away from it, but its significance pulls me back, makes me afraid of going ahead and leaving when there's still so much more to figure out and to mull over and to appreciate.

When I left home last Christmas, I felt decidedly like I was starting a climb up a huge intimidating mountain, like I couldn't see the top and couldn't know what to expect along the way. I climbed all year and now I'm at the summit, and it's a cliff. Tomorrow I have to jump off. The year ahead looks so bright and airy and open that it's dazzling me; I'm feeling blinded and I can't look right at it. I want to go back down the way I came, to wind down and give myself time to readdress all the things that scared me on the way up, to check out the little spots that I missed, to relive my favorite parts again. The only way to go from here is forward and while it excites and exhilarates me, while I've anticipated reaching this point for so long, now that I'm actually here, with my toes at the edge, I'm scared. The excitement is still there, but I feel like I need a little push.

I suck at endings, and with so many mixed emotions vying for attention these last three days I couldn't even begin to say anything here that sums up what this experience of leaving is like. Luckily, someone else already did, so to close this blog I'll steal her words, which have been swirling around in my head for the last month or so, and giving me peace of mind that I can't seem to find anywhere else.

You are afraid that you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember. Think of the vine that curls from the small square plot that was once my heart. That is the only marker you need. Move on. Walk forward into the light.

The Year In Review

You know? The rice here really isn't that bad, just so long as you don't close your teeth all the way.

Evan Davies
Somewhere in Rwanda
Sometime in early 2010

My friend Evan said this during one of the countless buffets that we all shared during our first few months in Rwanda, and while I'm pretty sure he doesn't know it, this quote has become my mantra for the year, and hopefully a concept that will stick with me for a long time.

You see, the rice here in Rwanda consists of two main ingredients: first rice, and then detritus. Sometimes the detritus is straw or crushed up leaves or grass or some other veggie matter; that stuff usually just cooks right down to rice consistency and presents no problem. Other times, the extra oomph in your rice is bugs; again, these are just as chewable as rice and have the added benefit of infusing your meal with rare protein, so no problem there either. But most often, rocks are your rice's plus one. If you've cooked the meal yourself, chances are you've done a brief pick-through of the dry rice beforehand and removed the larger offenders, but it's almost inevitable that some tiny pebbles have been left behind. And if your rice comes from a local restaurant, where they're cooking up giant batches for a dinner rush? You're dreaming if you think you're getting pure grain. If you've ever chomped down onto a rock right in the middle of a tasty curry, you know that this wince-inducing, spine-shuddery feeling is not at all fun.

So what's the solution? Spend the entire meal ignoring your dining buddies, separating each grain and slicing it in half to ensure that it's rice, not rock? Only eat at the most expensive, elite establishments, where they can afford to pay a whole army of lesser kitchen staff to vet the rice before it reaches your plate? Just avoid rice altogether? None of the above. What Evan discovered, and what I've been rediscovering in situations ranging from rice to exercise to international travel to human relationships this year, is that you just don't close your teeth all the way. You know there will be rocks. You don't fight the rocks. You give them some space, you let them slide down with the rest of the mouthful, you enjoy your meal and you get on with your life.

How many times, here in Rwanda, have there been things to complain about? I wasn't told about a teachers' meeting until five minutes before it was set to start. Somebody's chicken bit me on the bus. The school maintenance crew dug up my vegetable garden. I waited two hours for my meal and then the waiter came to tell me that they don't have the main ingredient. The guy at the post office is holding my parcels hostage. It's 3am and the useless guard dog is literally screaming. My smart, capable students directly disobey me and then look at me with sad, pitiful eyes when they get punished for it. The village kids still lose it when I so much as leave my house, even though they've known me for months. My laundry was just about dry when a freak rainstorm took it all the way back to square one...

Rocks! They're all just rocks in my rice. All of these situations are annoying, but none of them really present anything more than minor irritations. I've certainly done more than my fair share of whingeing here in Rwanda, but during this last term, Evan's quote has been popping into my head almost daily. How about, instead of moving through my life here with a heavy-handed insistence that everything be pure, correct, perfect, thoroughly investigated and shaken down and beaten into faultlessness, how about instead of all that, I just take all the annoyances and inconveniences and perceived injustices and just swallow them down, let them go, don't chomp down on them too hard and ruin my teeth and my meal, but instead just enjoy the larger picture, the delicious curried life in Rwanda, even as I leave room for the rocks?

If I touch my teeth together every time, if I pick through this life I'm living in this developing country on this paltry salary, then I see that there are rocks everywhere. But something about this third term, perhaps my proximity to the end of my time here, the knowledge that soon I won't have this life anymore, or maybe, hopefully, a more fundamental gear shift in my brain, is allowing me to zoom out, and to see that this place, this year, and this life are incredible. I wake up each morning knowing that I'll see beautiful scenery, talk to familiar, friendly people in my village, laugh with my friends, eat good food, and sleep well at the end of it all. On the weekends, I get to travel all over Rwanda, and outside of the routine, I've had the chance to explore chunks of the rest of Africa, and even have one more awesome trip lined up before I come home. I successfully completed a year as a secondary school teacher, even though the thought of getting up in front of a classroom of students used to make me vomit. I stumbled into an incredible group of friends and future travel buddies who could commiserate with me if things got rough, and I had incredible support from my family and friends back home as well. When I look at things like this, when I take big generous bites and don't chomp down too hard, I realize that I'm one lucky slug in a ditch to have had this year that's far more rice than rocks.

--

I handed in my final marks today, which officially ends my duties as a teacher at Stella. For the rest of today and tomorrow, I'll be packing up and cleaning my house, doing laundry, and saying my goodbyes to students and staff here. On Thursday, I head into Kigali for a few more days with my WorldTeach group, and on Sunday, the Copleys arrive in Rwanda! We'll be traveling around East Africa for about three and a half weeks, and on November 23, I leave here for the States. It feels surreal, and insane, and delightful, that I'll be in the USA in less than a month. I can't wait to perfect my home brew of Africa tea and share it with friends, family, and random passersby. I can't wait to use my old typewriters and to go for runs in the daylight. So much to look forward to, and so many good memories from this year to look back on. Murakoze cyane mu amashuti anje, na mu Rwanda!

I Don't Want to Get Over You

Part 3 of 3: What I Hope to Bring Forward From Rwanda

early morning runs, and generally having a life before work in the mornings

making an event out of meals and lingering over them

patience

being happy with whatever comes to me, even if it's not even close to what I asked for

thinking about how much water I'm using and how to economize

listening to podcasts and the radio

African tea

diving right in with foreign languages and not being embarrassed when I mess up

fully appreciating the ocean

being terrified of something and not letting that stop me from giving it a go

making meals out of whatever I have on hand, and just generally making do with what's available instead of getting the perfect gadget to fit every need

taking rest when it's needed

occasionally having an electricity-free day and doing work by candlelight

traveling with no itinerary

figuring out what I love about my current life and then focusing on that while letting the not-so-great stuff fade into the background, thereby being happy wherever I am, instead of constantly wishing for somewhere else (thanks, Mum :) )

not closing my teeth all the way (see next post)

Oh! You Pretty Things

Part 2 of 3: What I Will Miss About Rwanda

gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous green hills in every direction

all my food for a week costing $2

four day work weeks

playing the muzungu card

awesome birds everywhere, and bird noise outside my window in the mornings

the omnipresence of lizards

Senior 5

students saying "hi teacherrrrrrrrr"

the giant smile on Louise's face when I go to La Bonne Addresse for tea

fabric markets

brochettes and ibyari from Kiyovu Pete's with my Kigali friends

the range of wonderful and horrifying things people strap onto their bicycles and/or carry on their heads

torrential equatorial rain and thunder that still makes me gasp after a year

the simple, stress-free nature of my house

fetching my own water

sitting on my porch in the morning and saying hi to everyone who passes in front of my house

the double-handed wave

constant nuns

the singing that's part of every routine school day

daily life bowing to weather conditions

8am Economat breakfasts

being extremely flexible with the rules/getting out of any sticky situation with a firm "ntakibazo"

seeing people's joy when they hear me use even the simplest phrase in Kinyarwanda

tiny little Ange, who faithfully trots along after me on my runs

heading into Bourbon at any time of the day or night and knowing that one of my friends will be there

the process of picking rocks out of my rice before I cook it

my cellphone ringtone

sleeping under my awesome mosquito net

being around my whole WorldTeach gang

the students who often make me want to smash windows but even more often make me smile, especially when they launch into unprompted versions of Imagine :)

Take This Job and Shove It

Part 1 of 3: What I Won't Miss About Rwanda

being called muzungu

shops opening and closing at random times, seemingly based on whim

an entire nation of close talkers

umuganda

often having nothing to eat but fried bread

food shame

students asking for forgiveness

being heckled by toddlers and mine workers

drunk barflies pestering me about how good God is

3:30am telephone calls from someone I gave my number to under duress seven months ago

being told good morning as dusk gives way to night

Nyabugogo

blaring half/half music/radio static coming from shitty handheld radios while I'm on a beautiful mountain walk

kinyarwanda radio programs consisting of manic laughter followed by 1,000 dropped calls being pumped into my ear at full volume while I'm on the bus

tree tomatoes

rocks in my rice

living with the matrons

mayonnaise

asking a question in class to get students thinking, and receiving a rote memorized answer from a similar topic they've already discussed in General Paper

Senior 4

lack of clear information about anything

endless, endless, endless speeches at any event

Kigali boredom

muzungu prices

the man in charge of parcels at the Kacyiru post office

falling down while running on crazy dirt trails

hand-washing, especially jeans

lack of ice

mosquito nets with holes in them

"it is not possible."

having a western toilet without western running water

the insane leery claustrophobia of markets

and, one more time for emphasis:

MUZUNGU.

Gotta Go Home

...and as extremely excited as I am about the home I get to go back to, it's definitely starting to become real that I'm leaving Rwanda, and it's leading to all sorts of mixed up feelings about my new country, my old one, my friends from all places, my work prospects, my travel plans, my latent desire to own and operate a dairy farm in rural England...klajgfh;kljasdf;lkj.

We had our End of Service conference last weekend in beautiful Gisenyi, where all of my fellow WTers and I gathered to talk about our thoughts on the year, the transition to the next stage of our lives, and how to answer that inevitable and almost universally dreaded question: "How was Africa??!!" It was reassuring to hear that even though we're all heading to different places with different things to do once we get there, all of us are sharing similar fears about gearing up for another drastic change, and sadnesses about leaving the country that we've grown so fond of for all of its lovable illogicalities. A sample of some of the stuff the Rwanda '10 crew has in the pipes:

About half the group is staying in East Africa for the time being:
MV has secured herself a job teaching statistics at INES, a university in the beautiful north, and LN is likely to join her there.
KW is going to direct the adult language (meaning English for grownups, not swearing) department of a private school in Kigali.
KG is going to travel around East and Central Africa and see if he bumps into an engineering job along the way.
EE is devoting her efforts to fundraising for her new nonprofit foundation, started this year in response to some of the issues she encountered at her school.

And the other half are most likely headed back to the west:
MP is interviewing for a big kid job in San Francisco.
JS is heading back to Liverpool to reinhabit her beloved home and teach kids that don't drive her crazy.
JS' is torn between settling into the quiet live at home in Torquay, teaching in rural Namibia for a year, or seeing what China has to offer.
CB is going home to Calgary to start law school.
JB is in New York already, eating every leafy green in the whole city.
And JC is taking the train all the way home to San Francisco, where she can't seem to think much beyond Day One back in her favorite city...

So, we're all in a jumble, but the one thing I think we can all agree upon is that this year has been a weird and wonderful one. I couldn't have asked for a better bunch of people to experience it with.

For me, the most complicated and confusing emotions can be reduced to a neat tidy pile of manageable factoids by making LISTS. So, for the next three posts: lists of the best and worst of Rwanda, and what I hope to tote along with me as I start my new life back home.

No Children

It's taken me a whole year, but I finally figured out the secret to lovely, stress- and heckle-free running in Shyorongi:

If you can't beat them, get up so early that they can't be bothered.

The constant swarming, screaming, and heckling I was getting from hoards of school children every time I would hit the trails for a run or a walk had basically driven me to the point of staying inside by the end of last term. I hated letting their stupid choices affect my own, but honestly, as much as I loved to be outside, it just wasn't enjoyable anymore. I go hiking for peace and a slice of nature; instead, all I was getting was full-volume screeching and a desire to dismantle my fellow human beings.

And then this term, a flash of brilliance: School kids love to sleep! They do it in my class all the time! They complain constantly about waking up early! Ipso facto, very few oiks would likely be roaming the hills of Shyo before they absolutely had to be. I tested out my theory this last Monday by getting up for a run at 5am. It was dark, but not pitch black, and by the time I got to the downhill stretch (where I need to be able to see where my feet are going so I don't further muck up my ankle) it was full-on dawn. The surroundings were more beautiful than ever, everything was fresh and crisp thanks to Rwanda's night rains, and, best, best, best of all,

no children.

I only saw six (adult) people on the entire run! And not one of them called me muzungu; they all just addressed me with a nice "good morning", almost as though we were both just regular people, instead of one regular person and one blanched freak. The run felt great, and I was back before 6am. I went three more times this week, and I've pretty much figured out that getting up at 5:20am so I can be out the door by 5:25 gives me the perfect blend of light and solitude. Term Three will be full of these runs! Watch out, Bay 2 Breakers 2011.

Note: If you haven't heard the song No Children by The Mountain Goats, hear it now. Learn the lyrics, and sing them at the top of your lungs with your family.