Urabeho, Rwanda.

Farewell, Rwanda. John thinks that I have hated my time spent with you - experienced quite a culture shock. I do not think this is the case. I think living and working anywhere has its own challenges. Rwanda: the slow pace of life, the continuing reconciliation effort, understanding muzungu treatment, balancing an attitude of assistance without telling, determining what role to play, developing a life in such a short period of time surrounded by busy/transient people.

I know now that I can live and work in the developing world, though with the next place I will similarly have to adjust to its own unique challenges. I came. I worked. I conquered.

I am glad to have come. I definitely feel like I grew. I learned a lot about myself by my interactions with others in and out of the workplace and mt reflections of my experiences. I am much more "liberal" than I expected.

Some random memories I chose to capture the morning I left - people and the important food.

With that, thanks for listening. Goodnight and good luck!

"Let Go" -- Frou Frou

Farewell, land of a thousand hills.

What's in a face?

After learning of the weekly fun-time had at Torero's Trivia Night, I of course wanted to make a short-term habit of it. While the events were fun, the experiences made me a bit homesick, as I could not help thinking of Will and John - my dear trivia buddies (trivia masters they are) and my best friends.

At Trivia Night (the sequel), one of my teammates was a Brit whom I had never before met - he considered himself quite the veteran expert on Africa since he has been working here a few years.

He nonchalantly and matter-of-factly declared something I considered very controversial -

You can easily tell where someone is from by their appearance.

A semi-debate ensued. I did not refute that that may be true but simple stated the complication and potential dangers in operating with such assumptions. He thought my logic was interesting though very "liberal" and often besides the point.

My point was this: Why draw those conclusions about people? What is the purpose and usefulness of such prejudgments? How can you judge the accuracy of such? Can you really divorce your geographic designation from other preconceptions associated with that geography? Does your preconception and subsequent categorization change your behavior toward that person and your expectations of their behavior?

I presented him with some examples of confounded identities due to globalization. How do we "classify" these people? How do they "classify" themselves? I think the idea is much more complicated and problematic than he was making it out to be. Individuals are individuals. I told him I don't want anyone to judge me, especially before meeting me - so why would I do that to anyone? He said that was interesting and asked if I was spreading this idea everywhere I went. No, only when I entered into this type of conversation. He said, "Well if you don't like labels, never go to Sudan, etc. People scar and tattoo themselves to show what group they belong to." I responded, "But that's different. Self-imposed identification measures are chosen rather than ascribed by an outsider based on perceptions or judgments." He conceded.

I tired of arguing. You can rarely convert people to your way of thinking. He appreciated my argument but will never agree with such a "liberal" way of thinking. It is interesting to see how I have grown, integrating influences from home and school. All I could think afterwards was John would have been so proud (plus Dr. Shefner) - if only he had heard me.

Anyone see an elephant?

As my time in Rwanda drew to a close, I began to review what I had accomplished and seen (and what I had not). As a sort of last-minute decision, I chose to go to Akagera National Park, Rwanda's version of a safari. As opposed to a few other excursion options, it seemed most cost- and time-efficient...

Considering the robbery, this trip had cost me far more than I had anticipated, though I imagine I could have planned and budgeted better. I had such a short time left in Rwanda and had much to do before leaving; therefore, I couldn't rationalize taking a long trip, which would of course accumulate greater expense.

So I worked to assemble a group to go with me and managed to wrangle a few to go with me - two guys friends, Austin and Cesar.

We arrived at the park perhaps an hour after it opened. I didn't think that I was that excited specifically about the park, merely glad to be participating in a specific offering of Rwanda, but I squealed with joy when I saw my first zebra (and again and again with each subsequent zebra and then my first giraffes and so forth).

Finding animals was sometimes a difficult task - and we didn't see a ton. So the "safari" was actually relatively costly, but it was still an awesome experience. Most of the animals, despite our proximity to them, seemed indifferent to our presence - they had certainly seen these curious creatures before.

Slow Ahead

As I finally begin to settle into moto transportation, my healthy fear of motos, driver's cavalier attitudes, etc. is refreshed by an accident a couple of friends of mine had.

Austin and Verena were caravaning on motos. Someone pulled out in front of Austin's. The driver tried to stop suddenly - rather than swerving for some reason - and they flew off the bike. Verena, immediately behind them, saw the whole incident, and felt her vehicle run over something. She was immediately frightened she had run over Austin. But he seemed "ok" - Austin and the driver both were bleeding, though the injuries appeared largely superficial.

Of course a crowd quickly gathered to see the commotion. Many tried to detain the biker, who was trying to flee the scene - another testament to Rwandese's sense of community social justice.

Verena, though shaken, was very alert and concerned about Austin's open wounds remaining clean due to the threat of contamination, particularly HIV/AIDS.

However, immediately following the incident, both Verena and Austin hopped right back on motos to get to their destination and away from the scene. austin refused medical attention, bandaging his sores himself. Since then, Verena has refused to ride motos, instead walking miles to and from work.

The accident certainly has made me rethink transportation options. I have begun walking more frequently again as opposed to shelling out a few francs here and there. When I do ride motos, I urge the driver to go SLOWLY. The message is either received mockingly or with genuine concern. I try to explain my reasons, telling the story of my friends' accident through the language barrier, but with the possible understanding, there comes compassion.

Anti-Canine Culture

Have you ever experienced the strange realization of loss - becoming conscious that you were without something and then subsequently missing something you did not miss until you realized you were without it and wondering how you could have never noticed before? (I hope you muddled through that.)

I had a most peculiar version of that recently - I saw a dog in my neighborhood in Kigali. In Memphis or Knoxville, this would be no extraordinary thing. Of course I would be a bit cautious with any stray or wild animal, but I am a passionate animal lover, particularly dogs.

When I saw this dog, it occurred to me - I have not seen a dog since I have been in Rwanda. Why? Why is this dog here now, out of the blue?

The first time it the dog was lying up against the gate to my house when I arrived from work on a moto. I was quite startled, not knowing how to assess the safety of the situation (plus I had not received my rabies vaccine - global shortage). But the dog appeared calm and sweet, left a fair distance between us, and left when shooed.

However, for the next week or so, she made continued appearances. Nearly every time I walked through the neighborhood, she would join me at some point, accompanying me at a safe distance. It is as if she could simply sense I am a dog person.

Curiously (and probably unfortunately), she does not seem to fear cars - only moving out of their way at the last instant. She was obviously previously cared for - I wonder why she suddenly appeared here and wish I could do something, but I know I cannot.

Throughout my encounters with her, I asked Tom about the curious lack of dogs in Kigali and Rwandan's apparent fear or disgust of them. He responded with an illuminating answer: during the genocide, dogs fed on the corpses. Following the genocide, Rwandans killed almost every dog - both to quell fears and ease memories.

Calling Volunteers to Emergency Services!

When leaving UOB, the vehicle we had wanted to take (a mid-size SUV) was low on gas, so we took a 5-seat truck instead - still seating all of us. This proved to be a stroke of providence as we made our way to another branch.

On our way to Bugasera, we encountered a large crowd of people standing in the village's roadway - rather unusual considering the nature of driving here (chaotic). Therefore, we were forced to stop. There appeared to be some sort of commotion; apparently, a man was injured and needed to go to the hospital.

Because we had the truck, we were able to take this injured man to the hospital along with his friend. We were not entirely sure where the hospital was located - it was much farther than we expected or would have liked - but we found it and helped this man. The whole situation was very odd, somewhat unsettling but uplifting as well. There are no notions of ambulances here. The conditions of the roads in the poorer areas may have worsened the man's condition, as the road was rife with pot holes.

No one told us what became of him. It did not seem to matter. There was just an understanding and a sense of urgency about getting him medical care.

When I was finally able to see the patient, his clothes were covered with dirt. He had abrasions on his head and arms, and he looked very disoriented. I think he may have fallen down a hill or something along those lines. Ross said that this is the third time he has served as a make-shift ambulance driver.

Contagious Poisonwood

It has been a summer of reading - and the more people I meet, the more common an experience it seems to be. Restricted availability of television. Only so many dvds packed in my backpack. Work schedules of comrades misaligned and/or everyone is fatigued from the long day's work.

...All things considered, it is nice to just curl up with a book.

Interesting, and ultimately my purpose for this post, many people seem to be reading the same fantastic book - The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, perhaps my favorite book. This novel has become almost a symbol of my time here, repeatedly brought up in conversation. I find it interesting that so many people are just now reading or hearing of this novel, one I read in high school - but better now than never. It seems particularly intriguing that Westerners already in Africa would choose to read this book, a book about the potentially destructive force of well-intentioned but ignorant Westerners in an African community. Reading Poisionwood while in Africa would certainly lend another perspective than reading it prior to one's arrival or following one's departure. Something to consider.

Regardless, I find it refreshing that so many people are anxious to read and discuss this novel.