A better world

One of my essay questions for the term 1 exam was based on “Imagine” by John Lennon. Having listened to it with all my classes, I asked them to imagine 5 changes they would make to the world. Some kids just recited the song but the vast majority gave very well thought out answers. Here are some selections that blew me away:

“If no death in our world no one can see person crying because of the death of another one.”

“As many persons speak on a better world for us it is the same case everyday I imagine on the better world but it can not be without seeking it, then for us I have something to tell for you and for the other who will read this paper or message. I have many changes I could make to the world as follows:

• Seeking for peace because if there is peace people to respect each ther.
• Seeking for liberty because when there is liberty human doing those they want and search a good life.
• Seeking for human right as many years ago some humans were like materials and for me I will eliminate that.
• Making for gender because gender is very important in society.
• Making development by showing people how to achieve richness”

“ I think a world without money is important because money is main source of inequality and you know that the quality it is a bad thing. I think a world without leader is is important because many leaders they put in front their profits and there is any problem caused by that leader the consequences attack us firstly. I think a world without colour of people is important because when we all have the same colour no one can kill each other because is black, white, yellow….”

‘I would make the equality of the person because now the rich person they don’t respect the poor person. I would tell the authority to don’t agree the corruption; because corruption is bad for someone who doesn’t have money of other thing. I would make the gender it means the equality of between men and women because all of us have the same level of knowledge. I would stop the war in the world because if there is war the person die. And last is the emancipation of the poor in order to be on the same level.” 

“If I finishes my secondary school I need to change a lot of things. I need to help the children who has not the power of study. I help poor men and woman to identify a business. I use my force for to find a peace on all the world. I developed my family and I need to announce everyone to know the love of God”

“The reason why I chose it as the most important change in the world. no possession the stealer can not exist. no war no genocide, the orphans cannot exist. no poverty, stealers can not exist. no superiority the conflicts according to the sex or colours can not exist. no ignorant no intelligent, study, teaching cannot exist.”

“For me I would like to first change the possession because having possession cause many problems including wars. The negative forces must not exist, I mean the army living in forests. no leader must make pressure to audience. no country must possess the bombes. no homosexual must happen when I will be leader. I will make the world better for peace and love.”

Boys will be boys

Alodie = Love

Alodie is my house girl and also the sweetest person on the planet. She is obsessed with my clothes being clean and thus I have never had whites so gleaming or shoes cleaned 2 a week. This week has introduced some added benefits I did not foresee.

This week is exams and I have 8 sections of 50 kids (at least) to grade and thus have 400 papers to grade. Alodie has been sending the gang children away and telling them I have too much work to play and told them they can’t come in the house until my papers are handed in.  She also made dinner more often this week than she usually does and did shopping without my asking. Best Part! Someone dropped by for a visit, after I had ignored their call, and she made him go away after 2 minutes.  All this TLC is making me love (I reserve the right to rescind my use of this word) exam week.

1 section graded.. 7 more to go.

A real mystery

When I arrived in D.C. prior to our group flight to Rwanda, I was the only worldteach member who had gone over the weight limit (50 lbs) on both bags! I figured I would pay the fee, no big deal, and assumed everyone else would as well. No, they all stayed under the weight limit. Why were my bags so heavy? Had a I really brought that much more than anyone else?  I pled guilty by reason of books but in light of new evidence I am beginning to think there may have been other factors. Case is still under investigation.

Exhibit A.  My Dressing Room

   

 

Baby Gloria, Denise and Chantal

The baby who used to scream inconsolably when I was in her eyesight is now my inshuti.

  

Gloria’s older sister is Denise and Chantal is a cousin (I think, definitely not a sister).  They live with their Mother and Father in one of the small houses outside my compound. Today they invited me (and my i-pod) over. Their house is small, 3 rooms for 5 people, but has electricity and real furniture. Denise showed me all of her school books and Chantal played with my i-pod. Baby Gloria played on the floor until she peed and then she played in her pee. No diapers. From what I can tell, Chantal is a relative who lives with them and is mostly in charge of the baby. When Denise is home from school she helps, but Chantal does not go to school and has Gloria the majority of the time. I have never seen Gloria with her mother.  Denise is pretty sweet and quite eager, while Chantal has typical teenage girl attitude. She can be quite hard but is very sweet with the baby. Once I yelled at her for kidnapping my phone to text.  It was clear I was angry and she was genuinely sorry and to this day is much better about respecting my things.

Denise and Gloria.

Chantal and Gloria

Extreme sloth woman

For a few years of my life, I had a lot of trouble sleeping (although my ability to fall asleep in any form of transport was not effected and remained unmatched). This is not true anymore as my napping powers grow stronger every year.

Through out my childhood and teenage years, cars, planes and trains all managed to lull me into sleep quite rapidly. In the past few years, this has extended and I can now nap just about anywhere.

This weekend I went to Kigali to see some friends. Friday night we went to bed at 3Am and were up by 7AM so by 11AM my need for a nap was beyond pressing. I tried to sleep at the coffee shop table but that was discouraged. I ended up passed out on a coffee shop couch for an hour and a half. This prompted a discussion among my friends about their first impressions of me. On the plane ride from DC to Africa, most people were too excited and scared to even nod off. Evan had stayed awake for 24 hours beforehand in the hopes he would be able to sleep on our journey across the ocean but alas he said, “There I was, jumping in my seat and buzzing from nerves and I look over and Jane is still passed out. Damn, that girl can sleep.” Needless to say, he was impressed. Joco described seeing me curled up in the tiny seat with my head on the tray table and being blown away. “I thought, it’s like a superpower, extreme sloth”

 

Evan-through a bus window and playing his guitar

Joco living it up in the supermarket’s lifeguard chair

Side note- Huge Congrats to Joco who just got a job editing the Sunday New Times (Rwanda’s newspaper) She was appalled by the grammar in the paper and wrote in offering her services. 24 hours later she had an interview and a editing offer.  Way to be the change you want to see Joco!

A petulant teenager of my very own / Confessions of a teenage drama queen

I don’t think my mother ever uttered the phrase “just wait until you have teenagers of your own” but apparently the universe did. We all get what is coming to us sooner or later.

A few weeks after school started, gang leader Bizmani came to me and told me he wanted to help him get into school (the translating was not that easy). It turned out he was only at a Primary 2 level (like 2 grade) even though he is fifteen. Since primary school is free, all he needed was a uniform, which I happily bought. Then he needed sneakers, then he needed sport clothes, then he needed insurance….. I drew the line when he brought me a note clearly written by one of his older friends saying “Eeach lerner must pay 2000 francs by month end.” As soon as the first “Oya” (no) came out my mouth, the hugs, grocery carrying and cheerful greeting disappeared. In their place came a sullen teenager who nodded his head when I called out hello. 

Bizamni’s attitude varies in direct correlation to whether I am giving anything. 2 weeks ago, he started the lovely little habit of hopping the fence at night and banging on my door to tell me that his stomach hurt and he needed milk. He is an orphan who lives with his aged and apparently useless grandfather so I do get sucked in still occasionally and give him money for milk or pepto-bismol for his stomach hurts. I stopped answering the door at night when he bangs on it. That is just beyond the pale for me.

Bottom line, I don’t blame him at all. He is just a regular teenager who has never had anything and was thrilled when he got to live the high life for a few days.  I am sure I acted the same way (possibly worse) when my parents denied me things I “needed” during my teenage years. I created this situation by giving him money and clothes in the first place and I don’t blame him for trying. Also, the attention the kiddies get from me is exciting because their own parents tend to be busy with work (and do not possess i-pods) thus when their fun playmate is not ready to play, its hard for them to hide their disappointment. Bizmani is just taking it to another level. Regardless, he is a remarkably well-adjusted kid. He is an orphan who I am sure never received counseling or social services, he mostly takes care of himself. He also gladly attends school where the other children are half his age. All-around I think he is great kid.

Although I take full responsibility for the current situation, the drama is a  bit tiring. As I write, he is laying on my front lawn.  Earlier when I was walking and he snuck up behind me and scared the living daylights out of me, he was fine. Then he requested music but I said “Oya” as I needed to come in and set my stuff down from my weekend trip.  Now, 2 hours later, he is laying on my lawn too sick to move. The kids followed me in when I came in from the market, I let them listen to a little music and then tried to get them out. But Bizmani could not be awoken from his deep slumber on the lawn. He is so sick that only the other children can speak for him “Bizmani je suis malade” and “Jani-e, bizmani water.”  This time he is going to have to count on his grandfather or neighbors. He survived 15 years of illness without me and this time he has pushed too far. That is the downside of trying to emotionally blackmail an expert emotional blackmailer… Even a recovered EB can spot it a mile away.

Be careful what you wish for

The other day, I was thinking this rainy season hasn’t been that rainy and that a spot of rain might cool things off a bit. Of course I woke up Thursday morning to buckets of rain pouring down.
When we first arrived in Rwanda someone told us (quite judgmentally) that teachers don’t come to school in the rain. Well, DUH. The rain here is not little drizzles that you can block with an umbrella. It is sheets of rain that comes at you from all angles. And there are no subways, taxis etc so you must walk. No other options. In fact, motos are illegal in the rain, even though it wouldn't keep anyone dry. Plus, the school roofs are metal with no insulation, so the sound of the hail-sized rain drops echo off the bare brick walls and makes it sound like a battlefield in the classroom. So yes, teachers don’t come to school in the rain. They do show up if the rain stops. It isn’t like everyone goes to pub or takes a vacation day.

Except me. Thursday was my last day of teaching before exams and I had 3 of my 6 English sections. I needed to review the exam content with them and just felt too guilty staying home. So I dragged myself out of bed and pulled one my fastest drying pants. Armed with my baseball cap, my rain jacket and an umbrella and with my pants rolled to my knees to avoid the mud… I started my trek to school.

Not only was I the only teacher in school, my headmaster came in when he heard I was there. In front of  all the students he laughed and said “Ah Jane, why are you here?” I said that I had to review before exams and everyone laughed.  Then I curtsied to the class and they roared with laughter. My S4MCB doesn’t think I am tough like my S5 and S6’s, but seem to think I am crazy and weird enough that they behave well just to see what I will do next.  The students loved that I showed up and after review we listened to Rwandan music on my ipod. They sang to every word and even translated one of the songs on the board for me.

But, next time it rains I am staying in bed.

WorldTeach Blog

Here is the WorldTeach blog. They collect people’s blogs from all the different programs. 2 of mine made it! (and tons of pics)

http://worldteachnow.blogspot.com/search/label/Rwanda

Kibazo

So, yesterday I wrote that cheesy post about loving my life and thus invited disaster. I should know better than to tempt fate by publicly declaring satisfaction! It really and seriously bit me in the ass. Last night, around 11pm I was awoken by my phone ringing. It was my neighbor Sue saying “I think your water is on” I knew at that moment that I had  BIG kibazos (problems)

The men who had come from school to fix my tap had not fixed it but jerry rigged some contraption that had burst the second the water came on that night.  So, there I stood in my tiny courtyard looking at the torrent of water spewing out. I knew it wasn’t long before everything flooded so I weighed my options. My first instinct was to lay down on the floor and cry.  In New York, you are almost never helpless. There are 24 plumbers and building supers that can be called no matter what. Here, there is no 24 nothing. Nowhere to buy a wrench until morning, no 24 water company number to call and ask them to send someone. The hardest times for me here are when I feel powerless and helpless and this was the pinnacle thus far. Although I am sure there will be more instances.

I fought the urge to admit defeat and let the water drown me and reached for my emergency stash of Kit Kat bars. With a little bit of chocolate in me, I decided the best option was to start calling people. As I said yesterday (Stupid Jane!)  people are so nice they would come and help with anything no matter what. But, at 11pm, people have been asleep for many hours. So I called every local in my phone book and did not succeed in waking anyone up.

Finally, I reached Yves who was not in Nyanza at the moment but was able to rouse Alodie, who in turn roused her friend a “technician.” Sue was able to wake some neighbors, so we had a fine little contingency looking at the problem. But, no one had a wrench, the only tool that could possibly stop the rapids to cease. There were a few attempts to cover the hole with duct tape and plastic, which quite literally blew up in their faces. Then, they were able to shove the end of a broom into the hole and secure with rubber. Impressive and it actually held till the water went off in the morning.

I learned my lesson and decided to buy a wrench today instead of relying on anyone else to fix it. After a few minor setbacks including the new spout snapping in half and having to buy a new NEW more expensive one….I did it! I was feeling great and starting composing a blog in my head about the W curve and how the rollercoaster of life here goes down and up rapidly but doesn’t stay down.

Then, I came home and opened my front door with my key.  And the key got stuck. And would not come out. And down we go again…..This happened last week and I had to pay 8K ($16) to have it fixed. So now, I am waiting for another “technician” to come and replace my lock. But that won’t happen until tomorrow as it’s past 5pm.   Just to put this in perspective, I spent 15K ($30) on the water and soon to be $36 on locks. And my stipend works out to $8 a day.  So I have spent about 30% of my monthly allowance on the house and its the third week. I am now praying to any thing that might listen  that my house curse will be lifted. My sanity and wallet depend on it.

On the bright side, my S4  class was really cute today and giggled every time I used a French word and applauded when I said “je ne sais pas”. I taught my classes (except S6 who are a waste) phrasal verbs and they were all really productive and receptive.  I realized sometimes its just easier to give them vocab word definitions in French and English because then they actually understand the meaning. (For example… they could not get “put off” and did not know delay or postpone so I gave them suspendre and they all went “Ah, okay”).

I have no pizza to drown my sorrows in, so I am off to mash some potatoes and scarf biscuits. Emotional eating is my go to no matter what side of the world I am on.

African Weekend

This weekend was the first weekend I stayed in Nyanza with no muzungu visitors. My plan was to finish grading and catch up on my novel. The power problems last week put me way behind in my word count and I need to get cracking if I will finish by the end of March.

Friday

Yves (my headmasters nephew) and my friend) invited me to his college graduation. He said it started at 8AM so iIgot on the 7AM bus to Butare (the closet big town). I arrived in Butare and walked 10 minutes to the campus of the National University of Rwanda. I found Yves and his family and around 8:45 we found seats. Around 9:30 AM, my friend Claire called me. She was also at the ceremony as her boyfriend was graduating and was sitting in the special seating for “Invited and Honored Guests” so I found her and decided to stay there as the view was better. The actual ceremony started around 10:30 AM (Africa Time Baby) and was mercifully only 3 hours long. It was much like a American graduation only the speeches were a reasonable length at 5 minutes max a piece. They called the names of all 2000 graduates and those present stood according to the “school”” or major they were in.  The thing that struck me was the acknowledgment in the program and speeches of the difficulty the language switch had caused. Even the “honored guest” the Minster of Education admitted that the people graduating had started University while it was francophone, adjusted to a bilingual model and then transitioned to English only. The program even thanked teachers and students for persevering through the “painful” process. While the fact that this whole process was/is painful is not remarkable, I found the institutional acknowledgment surprising. While there is certainly a lot of support for the transition to Anglophone (evidenced by World Teach, Peace Corps, VSO’s presence, as well as highly paid Ugandan teachers who have been recruited for Secondary schools) I haven’t encountered a lot of official sympathy for the students and teachers who have suffered through the process.

After the graduation was over, I started to think about finding Yves and his family. By the time I reached the ground of the the stadium seating, Yves’ cousin Justin was standing there waiting for me. He took my arm and guided me back to the family. They were all heading back to Nyanza and I was heading in town to see my friend John. They insisted on driving me instead of letting me walk the ten minutes. So instead, I waited 45 minutes for the car to be brought around and everyone to mobilize.  Now I am so used to this I barely notice, I just sent John a text that said I hadn’t escaped yet and he should eat without me.

Saturday

I woke up Saturday and went for a fab run! No buddy, but I ran farther then I have here yet. I got back and was hanging out cooking and getting ready to buckle down on the novel when there was a small voice at the gate “Jan-E, Jan-E” I went and found Manudi, Jalique and their mother Jackie. They said they were going to the Stadium and indicated they wanted me to come. I said I had to shower but would come after.  It was so cute they wanted me to come that I couldn’t resist. So I made my way over and found them. The event was what appeared to be Rwandan live soap opera. There was small stage with a drunk man and his wife fighting. There were 2 kids lying on the ground as well. I had no idea what they were saying but people were laughing so I figured it was a comedy/drama. The second skit featured a man and his wife waving a blue mosquito net and fighting. Then, 2 women emcees got up and started saying Malaria again and again. So, I think they were anti-malaria skits… maybe to educate people on why its bad etc. Actually a great idea to use humor and live entertainment as a draw. In a town like Nyanza, if there is something at the stadium, everyone goes. The best part of the plays were the way my buddies took care of me. When  sat down, Jackie gave me a scarf and covered my legs and arms. If the scarf moved and some skin was exposed, someone quickly covered me again.  At one point,  littlest boy-Jalique- wanted to wear my sunglasses, everyone around hushed him and indicated I needed them to protect me from the sun.

When it became a real danger that I might burst into flames from the brutal rays, I decided to take my leave and walked into town. I was meant to visit the school secretary Agnes and her husband Justin and was mildly worried about the visit as my English is hard for her to understand and was pretty sure that trying to get there would be difficult. I called Agnes and told her that I was in town. She said “okay, call me when you are in town” But no matter how many times I tried to say slowly and clearly that I was already in town, it didn’t seem to register. About a half an hour after the original call, she said to go wait at the bus station and someone would come get me. About twenty minutes into my wait, I started to worry. Agnes is 7.5 months pregnant and I had visions of her hauling up huge hills for hours to come and get me! While I was waiting, this woman with only the top and bottom buttons of her shirt told me that I needed to put on pants (my dress only hit the tops of my knees…gasp).  I did not mention that her breasts were exposed but smiled and nodded. The 2 children came up and asked me for money. When I said no, they circled me staring at my feet. I think it was my tattoos they were inspecting or maybe they were shocked at how dirty they were. Then, a crazy woman came up and asked me for money. I said no and she licked her finger and then wiped it on my knee in some weird pattern. Then she threw the money she had at me.  Finally, not Agnes, but her sister in law Jane (!) came up. I felt better that it wasn’t pregnant Agnes who had trekked to get me, but Jane (it’s really Jeanne but they say it the same as my name) does have a fairly pronounced limp. We started back to their house and about 100 yards from the bus stop, Jeanne turned into an alley. “Hmmm” I thought, maybe we are running an errand. No, this was their house! 1 minute away from where I had been standing for 0ver half an hour and 2 minutes from the place I made the first phone call an hour before. Tee hee. Agnes and Justin’s house was very nice and we had a great visit. Agnes was having her braids taken out, so she sat wrapped in a cloth while her cousin picked out the braids from her head. As soon as I sat down, they put in their 3 hour wedding video! Justin (who is teacher at my school) narrated it for me and we spoke about some of the differences between American and Rwandan weddings. (dowries, milk, tribal dancing and escorting the couple to their wedding bed being some of them). Around 6 I said I had to go, but Agnes told me no. I would stay and then we would leave together later as she was going to her night accounting class. So around 7, she and Justin walked me to the bus stop and he put us on motos.  About 2 minutes into my 5 minute moto ride, the man’s motorcycle died and I had to (gasp!) walk the last 100 yards in the dark. This was a new experience as whenever I am out after dark, someone always escorts me and holds my hand.

Sunday

Within ten minutes of waking up this morning, I managed to break my water spout. I have one water spout in my “courtyard” (a generous term for an outdoor concrete rectangle) and it drips. Besides the waste of water, I think its attracting bugs. I always place a bucket under the spout at night to collect the water, but it invariably overflows and creates puddles in the yard. So, this morning I was trying to tighten it when the spout snapped off in my hand. I spent 10 minutes seriously considering calling my brother and waking him but I examined the damage and deduced all I needed was a new tap and a wrench. Thankfully, the water was off because I realized that as soon as it turned on, it would be a proverbial shit show (excuse the expression). So I went to the hardware store and bought a new tap. All I needed was a wrench to get the remaining bit off the pipe and attach the new one. I didn’t want to call anyone as it was and still is as I write) Sunday and everyone was “going to pray” as they say here. So I decided to go to school and search a wrench there. There would have to be adults supervising the kids and my friend Sixbert is live in staff. After tracking him down and explaining the problem, he said “Nooooo, no, no” to me doing it myself and told me that he would come by later with someone to help. Again, the old New York Jane thinks “ just give me the wrench and I will do it now”. But the new Rwandese Jane says “okay” and goes home.  I made some lunch and sat down to bang out some novel pages. Alas, NO power and my computer had no juice! 

The gang came by as I was sitting on the grass reading, having admitted defeat to writing. They wanted me to go see football at the stadium with them. I agreed and just as we were walking out. POWER ON. I guess its better to hang with my buds than do work anyway. So, I walked to the stadium with Elizer (not Alieze as I thought), Manudi, Robertson and Jalique. I carried Elizer the last half of a mile, which everyone thought was SO hilarious. We watched some football in the packed “stadium” (translation… grass field with covered seating for 100 people and 2000 people more standing around the field) and then returned home.  This time I carried Elizer on my shoulders. We managed to  leave the older boys Robertson and Manudi and acquire Elizer’s brother Bertrand. Bizmani also came home with us, saying “Sawa Janie, Sawa?” (Are you okay Jane?) every few minutes as I carried Elizer.

Not to sound like a afterschool special, but all the tiny little events of my days show well taken care of I am here. Everywhere I go people go out their way to make sure I am looked after. I don’t think its because that to be muzungu is seen as better.  It’s more that I am a special guest who is fairly fragile and totally clueless. In a town with very minimal diversity, Muzungu’s are a special attraction, not simply for being white, but for being different and thus exotic. 

It’s a really nice feeling to be so far from home and have people so willing to protect you. I know that a lot of the time my experiences sound like misadventures, but the reality is that when my power goes out people make phone calls until its back on. I could call any Rwandan in my phone because of a spider in my house and they would gladly come over and kill it **(not that I would… I am tough). My impression is that it is  a very giving and helpful society and people take the welfare of guests seriously. Even though I let out a string of obscenities that would make a sailor blush when my power goes out, living here is really a rather pleasant experience.

Footnote** If I called a Rwandan and asked them to kill a spider, they would come over, but it would be anywhere from 1-7 hours later. They care, but time isn’t really a priority.

Insult to Injury

A few days ago, the electrogaz man came to my house.  He speaks no English or French and is extremely creepy. Rwandan physical boundaries are in general much closer can American and can be uncomfortable at times. This man far exceeds any normal discomfort and each time I see him manages to freak me out in new and horrible ways. The first time I ever met him, I was sitting on Sue’s porch reading a book and he came up and grabbed my feet. And held fast until I managed to wriggle away. On Wednesday, he came in and went about his business with no attempt to explaining it to me. But, he did come over and after shaking my hand, grabbed me and put me into a headlock. When I managed to untangle myself from his smelly and ripe armpit, he grabbed my face and slapped it! Now, I think it was meant to be a friendly tap, but it was hard enough to make me gasp and recoil. Clearly, the only reasonable thing for me to do was run into my house.

A bit later, when I tried to turn on my kettle, I realized it wasn’t turning on. Hmmm….. The lights weren’t working either. I called Janiver (the bursar at my school and my guardian angel) and she made a few phone calls. Apparently, they had shut off the water and power for non-payment. BUT I had never gotten a bill! It was past 5pm so Janiver said we could work out the next day.  So this man had come for the express purpose of shutting off my power and had no only NOT mentioned this to me, but had decided that assaulting me would be  a better plan than trying to explain to this to me, or finding someone who might be able to.

Long story short… our entire compound shares a water bill (electric is pre-paid, but they shut it off to scare you into paying the water bill…since water is on so infrequently, it could be awhile before you notice that its off officially). The one house in our little compound that has Rwandese dwellers had received the bill and then not mentioned it to anyone else (or paid it). Apparently, when the bill comes, we are all supposed to sit down and decide who will pay what. A flawed system at best but pretty impossible if there is no notification that the bill exists. But, the important thing is that now my power is on! (until the next billing cycle at least….)

A walking talking contradiction

I ate lunch with my headmaster and his nephew Yves. Yves is now a friend of mine who is also a very good friend of Claire (girl before me). Apparently, another nephew of the Headmaster is a student in my 6PCM class  which I found out only the night before lunch. Ooops…. the 6PCm class is the one that I gave zeros to for talking during their quiz.  During lunch, Jean (my headmaster) went on and on how he had “heard from someone"” that I was tougher than Claire and I allowed no monkey business. He thought it was funny, and went on to say that it’s good and if all teachers were like me that they wouldn’t need the discipline master!

Fast forward to today. I ran home during a break in teaching to get something (diet coke from ER supply, I have no power so I treated myself). On my way out, Alieze comes and grabs my hand. I knew instantly that he wanted to come to school with me but I lied to myself and said that wasn’t the case. I could have said “No” but I could not make the words come out of my mouth. And children here are not particularly sensitive, they are used to be yelled at or told things harshly. So, we walked to school together, me telling myself the whole time that when we got to the gate I would tell him to run home and he would.

Of course, that didn't happen. He came and sat in the staff room with me until I had to teach. Then I put him the corner and gave him chalk to draw with.  Thankfully, people thought it was pretty funny and i explained it was my “inshuti” (friend) not my baby.  The kids were quite calm about it too, they smiled but we were able to have quite a productive class.

So here I am, a walking and talking contradiction. The teacher that will fail an entire class but can’t tell a 5 year old no to coming to school. Maybe its my over- indulgent Auntie just screaming to get out. I miss my boys in the USA so much that I allow Alieze to walk all over me? I am glad I will soon be able to properly indulge my true boys (for a short time at least) but I have a feeling it won’t help. There are just some kids who worm their ways into my heart and the tough teacher becomes putty in their hands.

The Reason Why S4 MCB is My ABSOLUTE Favorite

(The following is a verbatim email my S4 MCB class drafted to American students)

Dear Claremont prep Students,

How are you? We are very glad to write to you. we are Rwandese students in senior 4 science. We would like to ask you some questions about your life in the USA. here are our questions

                                                         questions:

1)How old do you have to be date ?

2)How is the students life in USA?

3)which kind of food do they prefer?

4)why the USA like to send young student in Africa especially in RWANDA ?

5)what do they thing for their future after schooling ?

6)which university do they like to study in USA ?

7)what make USA student"s social be greater than RWANDAN?

8)Who was  the best artist in USA in 2009?

9)IN USA do they do  the ordinary level exams?

10)Do they live at school or at their home ?

11)Do all american children have their own computers?

12)What is their plan in  holidays?

13)Do teachers in USA  write on black board with chalks ?

14)How do they  feel about Osama Bin Laden attacks on World trade center?

15)In USA  do they  have English courses?

please feel free to ask us whatever you would like about us.  Thank you we are looking forward to hearing from you.

Thank you and God Bless America

Best Wishes,

Senior 4mcb

Cute Kid Interlude

 

 

  

This is the baby I stole  

 

 

The honest to goodness reason I moved to Africa

The Nag “This is what its like to be a grub” (a.k.a. Nygatare)

This weekend, Joco, Susan and I went to visit Zach and Evan at their home in Nygatare. Evan and Zach live together in a house next to their boarding school, only a 5KM walk up and down hills to town.  Besides their 10KM walk roundtrip to get absolutely anything, the spot seems pretty ideal. They have a great house with a courtyard and actual furniture! (not always a given in Worldteach living situations).

The bus us girls took to get up there took FOREVER. Besides being a huge budget school bus type bus with no shocks at all, the driver decided that dropping people off at their individual houses would be the best plan, making our three hour bus trip take closer to four and a half.  By the last hour, we were so delirious we decided that singing golden oldies would be the best plan for us. We treated our fellow passengers to quite a program, including: Leader of the Pack, Build Me Up Buttercup, Stand By Me, Ain’t No Mountain, It’s In His Kiss and I Think we are Alone Now, accompanied only by my I pod touch. Look for our CD dropping in November.

The Nag

After meeting the boys, we had a few drinks and retired. Saturday morning we woke up to bright sunshine and decided to take the long, yet beautiful walk to town through the green pastoral hills of Northern Rwandan. The second we stepped outside, the sky darkened. As we started walking, the sprinkles started, Then, the heavens opened and raindrops the size of pennies started pelting us. This kept up the entire walk to down, and we arrived looking like drowned muzungu rats.  After a lunch of the best melange in Rwanda, we returned home on motos and settled into our sleeping bags for a wonderful, supremely cozy Dexter marathon. Jo “This is what its like to be a grub and I love it!” Jane “Not sure I have ever been so cozy and happy” (Susan was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on her dvd player with earphones and thus didn’t have anything to add)

Once the rain stopped, we decided to take a walk down to the river to look for monkeys.  That is, we decided to take a walk down a dirt path after a torrential rain storm. The rest of this mini adventure is better told in pictures.  The photo credit goes to Susan for her beautiful pictures.

MONKEY!

 

Sunday it was time to go! Zach and Evan are excellent hosts and fab cooks and we will be back! On the bus ride home, Jo and I were on a bus so swanky it had a TV! After a violent Japanese movie, they played Eurovision Music Videos. This inspired Jo and I to bust out the Frank (Sinatra). We went from New York, New York to My Kind of Town. Then we adapted the lyrics to fit out surroundings. (Sample- Kigali is My Kind of Town- Kigali is) Again, look for the complete versions on our upcoming cd.

My Shadows

I woke up this morning, ready to go for a run and found that my housegirl (Alodie) had washed my running shoes last night. Rwandan’s are obsessed with clean shoes, either in spite or because of, the constant mud.  As a result, my shoes are cleaned almost daily. But, I was surprised to find my sneakers soaking wet, with the insoles and laces hanging on the line to dry. I was ready to go and didn’t want to abandon, so I threw on my converse all star no lace “sneaks.”  By the time I made it outside, the sun had come out from behind the rainy season morning cloud cover and it was already hotter than I had bargained for. About a mile in, these forces combined had convinced me that it would be perfectly respectable to walk. Like a running angel… along came my running buddy! I passed him walking the wrong way on the road and he turned around and came along with me. Not only did I ran farther than I was planning, I kept it up the whole way! I did spend a hour in bed this afternoon contemplating not moving ever again, but still. The man is really a godsend. Also, I was struck by how he keeps in pace with me, when I slowed down, so did he. This is noteworthy as none of my ex-boyfriends have ever slowed their pace to match mine. 

When my friend dropped me off at my house (red faced and panting for air) Alieze was the only kid around. I let him in my house while I stretched and then tried to walk him to gate so I could shower. But he would not go." “Uje hehe?” he asked repeatedly. I tried to mime shower as I don’t know the word or anything close in Kinderwanda. But he would not accept that. So I let him wait in my little courtyard" while I “showered” in the “bathroom” (translation, I threw a bucket of water on me in a small concrete room with a drain for water and a flat toilet). Then I set off for school. Alieze seemed satisfied and I waved goodbye at the top of my hill.

When I was 100 yards from school, I realized there was a small person behind me. A small person wearing dirty blue flowered pants that I had bought him (when I thought he was a girl). Alieze! By the time I sorted out that he had no intention of leaving, I had to teach. So I searched for Alodie (she works at my school) and dropped Alieze off with her. He did not want to let go of my hand at first. But Alodie and another woman explained in Kinderwanda that I had to teach and I would come back. Everyone who saw us walking together shouted “Jane! You have a baby!” I am sure tomorrow there will be a lot of excitement from the teachers… gossip spreads fast.  After my class, I picked Alieze up from where he sat watching men chop wood for the school kitchens and we walked home.  He seemed to get a big kick out of the masses of children who daily shake my hand on the walk home. “Ha, they get to shake her hand but I have her wrapped around my tiny little dirty finger”

The internet in Nyanza is completely crap this week… so really this a journal entry that will be unearthed later.  Also, I apologize for the shocking lack of pictures but I loaned my camera to my headmasters nephew and haven’t gotten it back yet.

Also, I got my class lists and I have 378 students total! Most of my classes have 58 kids…FYI this means grading makes me borderline suicidal.  By borderline I mean that I am establishing a mental health hotline in Nyanza for my sole use. I have novels and blogs to write and dvds to watch. Besides the quiz I just gave, I gave them homework for Monday. To quote Austin Kern (one of my first baby loves)

“Dammit Jane, Dammit!”

Jane steals a baby

It was bound to happen…. So the other day I am walking down the path to my house when I hear a small child wailing. I looked over and this tiny girl (maybe 2 years old) was standing on the grass crying her eyes out. I had seen this girl a few times with an older brother but didn’t see him around. The gang and I were heading down to my house to listen to music, so I picked up the girl and decided I would bring her with me. As I tried to quiet her tears, I thought the brother would be attracted by the music and come look for her… We would also be in sight of the grassy patch were I found her, so I figured she would be easy to find.

As I got to my gate, I looked back and saw a well dressed gentleman standing on the grass and holding a pink hairbrush. “Oh, sorry, is this your baby?” I gasped. I scampered back to the man and handed the child over. He looked at me with disbelief in his eyes. If I was a mind reader, I am pretty sure I would have seen his thoughts saying “What the what is this crazy Muzungu doing stealing my baby? Doesn’t she have enough little ragamuffins in her weird cult?” I did the same bashful, repeated apology I do when I hit the wrong kid with chalk and rushed back to my willing gang members.  Thankfully, no charges pressed… this time.

March Challenge

My friend Joco is leading the WorldTeach Rwanda crew in a very special March challenge. The challenge is to write a novel in one month! (roughly 1500 words a day) The idea is just to be creative and to challenge yourself to finish something thus having a sense of accomplishment… the point, luckily, is not for it to be good. I am starting off like all good authors and ripping off someone else. My own brother in fact. I am writing a “novel” based on a story he told me many years ago.

Already I am feeling swamped by March! When you give tests to 6 classes of 50 kids, you have a lot of bloody papers to grade! I also am committed to my blog writing and my gang. Plus, my DVD collection increased 1000 fold by the arrival of Glee, True Blood, 30 Rock and 90210 from my dear friend Erica. So, I will keep updating as much as I can in March, but I may give some snippets of the novel certain days, just to keep my workload in check.