Welcome to On Sunday Morning. I’m the voice behind the blog and the person behind the camera. I’m an eager explorer, wannabe writer, capable chef, creative conversationalist, aging athlete, and proficient photographer. Queer in its original meaning is an apt adjective to describe me. I even have a day job working in healthcare. Social media is making us sad; let’s go for a walk somewhere together or trade tales around a campfire.
"I'm a big believer in winging it. I'm a big believer that you're never going to find perfect city travel experience or the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one. Letting the happy accident happen is what a lot of vacation itineraries miss, I think, and I'm always trying to push people to allow those things to happen rather than stick to some rigid itinerary."
A List of Things I Do and Don’t Miss about village life
long commutes (my Rwanda house is less than a five minute walk to the health center; my SC house is a 40 minute drive to the hospital)
sitting in front of a computer at a desk all day for work
housing prices (so much sadness and makes me miss my Rwanda house)
stark boundaries drawn between work and home/social life (I almost never see patients from the hospital outside the hospital)
bringing work home with you (I do not do hospital work at home, but I did so much PC work away from the hospital)
dating apps are pure hell (I don’t use them in either country)
shopping *all the time* (market shopping sucks the life out me, but so does Target and Publix)
spending money (I don’t spend a ton in the village, but stepping out of my SC house costs like $100)
Lines–(I don’t like to queue, but I appreciate the fact the North America and Europe respects the queue. Rwanda generally does not but is at least better than a lot of other countries)
$12 salads (need I say more)
South Carolina’s crumbling, antiquated transportation infrastructure (made worse by Hurricane Helene)
not using the metric system (come on, America)
FOMO (The Fear Of Missing Out)
Parking (and driving)
“Keeping up with the Jones'” mentality
waking up really late (I like getting up at 6am now??
being afraid of active shooters
holidays centered on getting drunk [ 4th of July, cinco de mayo…]
watching the news all the time [blissfully unaware is sometimes ideal]
I have lived most of my life in South Carolina [other states include North Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee] — a state with roughly 5 million people in it, and just prior to departure, I moved back to the area I grew up in. The town I currently reside in has approximately 800 people in it, and yet I still have my anonymity.
I blend in mostly due to my race [it’s all either black or white] or my speech [I do have quite the southern accent when I let my guard down]. I’ve been putting purple streaks in my hair for a few years, but it’s so subtle that no one hardly notices until I am in the sun or under a light. I enjoy my peace and quiet–I have three sets of neighbors within a mile radius and a hay field across the street. It’s a quiet, somewhat predictable life.
Even with brightly colored hair, I blend in whilst in London.
Living in a small town creates lots of privacy, but little anonymity. If you’re not careful, everyone will know your business. You can’t cry in public or curse at anyone because chances are, you’ll see these people again. Even if you don’t want to.
There’s no clubs for dancing or bars for drinking in my little town, and only two of what we call restaurants. Being seen at one of these becomes fodder for gossip especially if anything untoward happens.
Despite all that, I blended in. Mostly.
I blend in at work–even whilst wearing my pediatric-centric tops.
Village Life
I’ve spent the past year [plus] living in a village even smaller than my town, speaking a language that I’ll never speak again once I leave the country. Despite knowing all about small town life, in this village, I am the other. I’m different because of my skin tone, much, much lighter than anyone else’s. I’m different because of my accent–my tendency to speak Spanish not French when I can’t think of a word in Kinyarwanda. Traveling to other countries also makes me different. My American passport makes me different. I’m different because I’m unmarried and childless. Most of my village peers are both married and are mothers. I’m different because I have no real desire ever have kids. My short, but fast growing, soft hair makes me different.
Even among my fellow Peace Corps volunteers, I’m different because I’m older than most, but not yet at that “I’m retired; I think I’ll go join the Peace Corps stage.” I’m at an age where friends are having babies left and right. Some are getting divorced and some are getting married. Again.
Any of these would have set me apart. In combination, they ensured I would never be completely able to blend in… never enjoy the anonymity I love. It’s not the first time I’ve been a visible minority, but it was the first time I’d been one for such an extended period [and it gave me newfound respect for people who are “The Other” for their entire lives].
Even before I landed in Rwanda, I suspected that would have to change something, but I don’t think I fully anticipated the degree to which it would. I went from a mostly anonymous local to instant celebrity in a matter of days. It was strange, and I hated it. I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to blend in with the crowd, and here I was–on display for everyone to see. I felt eyes on me all of the time. I carefully considered every word that dropped from my mouth. Actions required thoughts before I did them.
Escaping to Huye was a welcome respite from village life
Rwanda village life
I learned that in Rwanda people will frankly comment on your physical appearance as a matter of course, and for me, that was a constant reminder of my paleness, my size, the strangeness of my straight, short [mostly] brown hair, my lack of makeup, my choice of dress.
To integrate into my community, I had to eschew anonymity. Ihid certain parts of myself.I hid the me that sometimes liked to dye my hair strange colors. The IDGAF vibe I sometime give off–put away–for now. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was always myself, just a different version of myself from before. In my village, I will always be Mishel. Mishel never wore anything cut higher than her knees. More often Mishel wore pants. Every woman wears skirts in the village. Mishel never, not once, drank alcohol, despite its availability. She always waved, smiled, and greeted people appropriately according to the time of day. Mishel never flirted with men. Rejected those who flirted with her, never cursed, and never went out after dark.
I might be making this sound like play-acting, and it was and it wasn’t. We all play roles over the course of our lives. Mine was true to myself and consciously chosen. I realized that one of the deepest impacts I could make in my community was to be a role model to young people who needed one desperately. At times it felt exhausting and overwhelming, a weight of watchfulness and potential gossip I shouldered daily.
I am back in the USA for now, most likely for good. I am back to blending in when I want to, and being noticed when I want as well. It’s one of the odd parts of service that people do not talk about too much–the readjustment period. To be honest, it hasn’t been that difficult. I have adjusted well to flushing toilets, comfortable beds, and running, potable water. Driving myself around to wherever I need to be is a lot easier than waiting for a Moto. I’ve adjusted well to having indoor kitty cats again. I’ve adjusted well to not haggling over every little thing I want to buy. The grocery store is still a bit intimidating. But in all fairness, it was intimidating before I moved to rural Rwanda.
Despite the title, I want to reassure everyone that as of today, December 22nf I am still IN the Peace Corps, and have no immediate plans to leave. Although this could change at the whim of the US Government, I could be heading home via airplane at any given moment. Just know that as of now, I am still in Rwanda, and I HAVE NOT left the Peace Corps. But now is as good of a time as any other for information about how one does in fact leave the Peace Corps.
After getting reassigned to Rwanda, my mantra was “It’s not prison. I can leave whenever I want.” Perhaps this is surprising to some who thought that maybe, while not prison, the Peace Corps was kind of like the army, where getting out is hard. It is not. If I want out, I’m on a plane back to the USA within a few days. I think.
But before we delve into how one leaves the Peace Corps let’s back up: Most people imagine that one leaves the village, tearfully, after serving 27 months [in actuality it’s about 23-25 months], in which the village has erected a permanent [at least for the duration of the remaining tenure in said village] shrine to said volunteer. There is a ceremony of sorts where the volunteer is gifted some local [but often meaningless] trinket, and the volunteer cries and promises to come back after some period of time.
THIS IS A MYTH. FAIRY TALE. WISHFUL THINKING… Although in some [very few] cases it could/does happen like this; the truth is more complicated and there are lots of ways people leave. Here are the main ones:
Close of Service: The “normal” way. In PC | Rwanda Health cohorts, COS conference occurs in March, and actual COS can occur anytime between June and August. This conference occurs 21 months after having arrived in country. The reason for this is the month of April is an official/unofficial month of mourning for the entire country and at the government level NOTHING is scheduled or gets accomplished. So March it is. Everyone remaining from your original cohort gathers for a final conference to discuss reentry into post-Peace Corps life. You get information about what your post Peace Corps benefits will be [a months’ worth of medical coverage, a bit of “re-settlement” money that should fund a security deposit on a place to live and if you’re lucky dinner and a movie]. You decide if you want Peace Corps to buy you a ticket back home or if you want cash in lieu so you can travel on your own or find a cheaper ticket and pocket the extra cash. Then people head back to their sites for a final two months or so and, regardless shrines and trinkets, say goodbye to their communities. There are exceptions of course. Some get permission to leave up to six weeks early if they have a pressing reason–job, grad school. Conversely, some attend the conference but aren’t leaving: they’re extending service for six to twelve months to finish up a project or start a new one; or they married a local and decided to settle here.
Leaving early, you say. I don’t think so–Sadie Mae, probably
Administrative Separation: “Admin Sep” happens when you screw up and get caught breaking the rules. There are big rule breaks like possession of, buying of, and selling of drugs or leaving the country without permission ‘ie crossing into the Congo just because‘, but it can technically happen for relatively minor violations of PC policy like riding a moto without the PC approved helmet or traveling [to the next town or even your banking town] without telling the Peace Corps where you are going. Depending on the rule(s) you break, you might get booted right away or be put on a Corrective Action Plan and then booted after several offenses.
Medical Separation: “Med Sep” is when a volunteer gets sick/injured in a way that can’t/shouldn’t be dealt with in country. Sometimes it’s automatic but sometimes you and the medical staff have a longer conversation about the pros and cons. No one from our cohort has been med sep’ped yet, but if things keep heading in the direction they are heading, I might be the first. Sometimes it’s an automatic thing and sometimes much deliberation is required. I guess I’m in the much deliberation required category as here it is almost four weeks after the original injury and I’m still in limbo.
Early Termination: ET’ing is probably the most common way to leave early. Why just leave? Maybe Peace Corps just isn’t for you. Maybe you need a little more direction in your work activities. Maybe you need a little less harassment [sexual or otherwise in you life]. Maybe you’ve decided that pizza is the true love one for you. There’s a million reasons, most of which you don’t figure out till you’re actually here. Maybe the mismatch is with PC or maybe it’s with the specific country you’ve been sent to. Who knows? I do know it happens all the time and it’s okay. It’s not easy to go from one of the most privileged societies the world has ever known to living in developing nation. Despite beliefs to the contrary you’re not on vacation and the daily stress of living in a new culture shouldn’t be underestimated. You might also ET because stuff happens at home that makes you rethink your commitment. Or maybe something bad happens here. You’re going along fine but then get robbed and no longer feel safe in your community. A site change is possible but ultimately you might think “Screw it. The pay’s not high enough to put up with PTSD.”Or you could ET for positive stuff. Like you got a kick-ass job or accepted into your dream university for grad school. Basically, I’ve heard a lot of different stories. What leads one person to ET leads another to shrug and keep going. If you do decide to leave, PC generally pulls you out pretty quickly and you’re home within a week.
Interruption of Service/Evacuation: Sometimes civil war breaks out in a host country. Sometimes the U.S. makes foreign policy decisions that are unpopular in a host country and Peace Corps thinks they should move volunteers out of country while things cool off. Sometimes Ebola breaks out and PC decides for the safety of all to evacuate the country. Or the methane deposits under lake Kivu decide to explode. Ideally this doesn’t happen a lot. But it does happen. For the record, if they evacuate Rwanda for civil unrest or Ebola, my time in the Peace Corps is just over. I don’t see myself signing up for a new 27 months somewhere else. I recently heard that the Interruption of Service can be given for a few other reasons as well like if your spouse is Med Seped and you want to join him/her at home. These different labels matter because they relate to your post-PC status, benefits you might accrue, and how easy it is to rejoin the Peace Corps at a later date, etc.
Crazy combinations of things: Oh the stories I have heard. Any and all of the above can combine in ways that you would not expect. A low-level stomach upset has been plaguing you for months. Your best friend has a baby while you are away. Your best friend here in the PC gets mugged which makes you feel unsafe even though nothing happened to you. And while none of these things by itself is enough to send you home, you start to think maybe sticking it out isn’t that important. So you ET or you ask PC to med sep you and they agree or they give you some other label that sends you home with some other status that I’ve never heard of. And depending on when in your service you leave and what label they stick on you, you may or may not still be able to claim the label of RPCV.
In the end, PC loses a lot of volunteers every year. I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. The process to get into the PC is long and involved and while I am sure there is always room for improvement, it’s not like they just let anyone in and then shrug it off if it doesn’t work out. I do think that sometimes the PC probably manipulates its drop out rate to make it seem lower–which is not helpful to anyone involved.
I have officially been a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mbazi, Rwanda for an entire year! Honestly, the year has passed by faster than I could have ever imagined. But it hasn’t been without bumps along the way. I’ve suffered through extremely low self-confidence, I have dealt with unforeseen circumstances, I have survived parasites and a variety of other random sicknesses, and I have powered through some serious homesickness. A lot has happened and I think it’s important to reflect on that and talk about some of the more important things
Cold showers are hard.
After a full 12 months of bathing in cold –sometimes lukewarm water, I could say that I am “used” to it. Which in no way in hell means that I enjoy it. I’ll admit that a cold bucket bath during the summer is nice. But, unless I am on the verge of heat stroke, I prefer HOT showers. However, I can’t say that I would actually shower more if I had hot water daily,
Rainwater is extremely cold if it hasn’t been preheated by the sun
I LOVE food, but I don’t love all food.
At home, I was an ummmm selective eater. I’m usually up for a pizza or grilled cheese sandwich or some fabulous soup if it’s less than 100 degrees, but there are a lot of things I don’t like.. Well, I I have discovered that I am pretty much a when in Rome… type of eater. Goat in Rwanda–sure. Goat in the US–not so much. I like what I like, but I’ll eat what’s available.
Not a Rwandan meal
Shit happens.
Whether literally or figuratively, there has never been a more apt phrase. More often than not, something randomly comes up, and you’re forced to solve the issue on the spot. Also babies will pee and poop on you, and that’s true in the US and Rwanda. That’s life. And a fine skill to have for every other facet of life.
Network. Network. Network
We’ve all heard countless times that networking is important and that couldn’t be more true for Peace Corps volunteers. PCVs definitely need solid relationships to get work done. It has always mattered who you know and it will always matter who you know. And for someone who loves nothing more than staying in my house, networking is hard. Especially in Kinyarwanda.
Listening is crucial.
The job description for a Peace Corps volunteer calls for action. PC wants results, which typically are in the form of numbers, and our work is driven by this need to produce results. But, how do we know what results are needed unless we actively listen? I’m still learning how to do this. I’m pretty sure that my actual results at the end of my service will be less than stellar, but it’s OK.
Accountability is important.
Holding oneself accountable, especially in this line of work, is important. Peace Corp is structured so that volunteers are essentially their own bosses. We obviously have to inform our bosses about the work we are doing–you know if there is one, but at the end of the day we answer to ourselves. While this structure functions well, I sometimes get lost it in. I tend to be honest when admitting to what I have or have not done, but sometimes I fail to recognize and understand the consequences. When looking at the big picture, having two full years to complete projects seems like an eternity. But as the months pass by, I regularly find myself thinking, “I could have done more,” and then letting myself off the hook with a few excuses. Hindsight and retrospect are helpful in learning from mistakes, but accountability is key. At the end of the day, I want to be able to say I did all that I could today because this matters to me. That’s what accountability is: the acknowledgment of your actions and the assumption of the responsibilities. I’m still working on it.
Be grateful, especially in times of hardship.
We all have so many things to be grateful for, but sometimes we lose site of this when we feel like we are sinking or struggling. Take time to be grateful, take time to remind yourself off all that is good.
S0 at the end of a full year in Rwanda and more than a full year in PC, and despite all the times I have said, “I literally cannot,” I actually can! I have made it through living in conditions that I normally wouldn’t tolerate, I’ve survived medical emergencies. I’ve continued to show up and do ‘something’ even when I’m still not really understanding or speaking the language. I’ve survived countless sleepless nights because my favorite time in Rwanda is 3a when I can hear myself think and am at my creative best. I’ve survived mountains of rice and beans and way too many Fanta Citron’s.
A lot of things have changed in my life over the last year, including me. I hope I’ve changed for the better, I think I have. I thought it was cheesy and cliche when reading other PC Blogs about how “changed” people were. But, it’s true. Something about this experience changes you, and then that pretty much changes everything else.
For this next year ahead, all I can ask of myself is that I live and I learn. That everyday I do at least one Peace Corps thing, that I put myself out there and try to break from my comfort zones and hopefully I can give back as much as I am taking away. I am eternally grateful for this opportunity and this learning experience.
On the surface Mr Wendel actually has nothing to do with this post. However that is one of the first songs I remember hearing played on the radio, It’s all about poverty. In the US. Not some rural village in Rwanda.
Wealthy
When I worked my last shift at the hospital on June 2, 2018, I didn’t have a sudden feeling of insecurity when I pulled out of the parking lot around 7:30 because I was suddenly unemployed. Even though I knew I was choosing poverty, it didn’t hit me then. That came about a month later when my first disbursement was paid to me… in cash. 47,000 Rwandan Francs (about $50) which was to be enough for two weeks of living with my host family in Rwamagana.
A lot of that 47000 RWF was spent at the Rwamagana market on lunch and supplementing breakfast and dinner.
As I pulled out of the parking lot for the last time I mentally calculated how long this last American paycheck would last in Rwanda. Having this money in the bank allowed me mentally prepare myself for the poverty to come It was measured in months, not days like in the USA. The cost of living is significantly less and my expenses are less too, but my income is much, much less as well. My monthly living allowance in Rwanda was nearly equivalent to ONE 8 hour shift at the hospital–without any shift differentials. I knew that by choosing to join the Peace Corps’, I’d be choosing poverty.
Then Not
Much like in the US, I spend a lot of my Rwandan income on food. But instead of going to restaurants, I’m going to the markets. I’m what I call a ‘Village Vegetarian.’ Meat products are too expensive and too raw to consume. I occasionally buy UHT shelf-stable milk in 500ml bags, but other than that, no dairy. Eggs are pricey (proportionally) 100RWF each, and I walk a lot to avoid paying 500RWF (or more!) for short moto rides. These little relatively small amounts are what we call being ‘nickel and dimed to death’. On their own, it won’t break me, but added up, over time, my monthly Peace Corps income diminishes rapidly.
Rwandan pool days keep me sane. Even if the water is made of icicles.
Budgeting
Just like being in the US, you learn to cut corners. What is necessary vs what will be nice to have. A nice push broom with a long handle vs a standard Rwandan sweep broom. For example, imagine something breaks. Let’s say a handle on a bucket. Some big and some small. Back home I would have just gone out and bought one the next day. But here, it’s not so simple. If I buy a bucket then I have to cut out something different, likely a more luxurious food item like potato chips or apples. When a hole developed in my favorite skirt because the laundry detergent is really that strong, I had to do without.. Because having one made would cost about 20,000 RWF, and 20,000 RWF is equivalent to my food budget for the week.
This may sound alarming to you, and sometimes it is to me too. Rwanda is in transition from a third world (or subsistence) country to a second-world (or middle-income) country. Village life is still quite cheap. If I never took a moto, walked everywhere I needed to go, only bought the ten items sold in our local market, I could live like a king, but alas, escaping the prying eyes of village life is as much of a necessity to me as apples. Thus, I escape to Huye every chance I get.
And while Huye is not Kigali, it is not cheap. Food costs more. Motos cost more. There’s a swimming pool (two actually), and hotels with decent (read fast) wi-fi that one can hook up to and surf the net to one’s heart’s content as long as you buy Something. And for me that’s usually a Fanta Citron.
A fancy coffee milkshake… while tasty, quite expensive on a Peace Corps’ budget
Choosing Poverty
It is easy for it to be about me every day. Worrying about what I can and can’t buy. Worrying if I am eating healthy enough. It has no importance when I compare myself to my community members. Because this is a choice for me. (And I also get care packages containing vital amounts of protein in the forms of American peanut butter and tuna fish). When I took the oath to be a Peace Corps volunteer, I knew that for the duration of my service that I would select to live below a means that I have been accustomed to my entire life. And that when that time is over, I will walk out of poverty and back into (relative) luxury–real luxury compared to my Rwandan neighbors and co-workers.
I won’t have to work hard for that to happen. I have a furnished house and driveable car waiting for me upon my return. I’m almost certain I can return to the same job I had before I left as soon as I set foot on American soil. I will go back to working in the hospital for 30-40 hours a week and in that amount of time make more than my Rwandan neighbors make in a year. I will still have more than 100 hours of ‘leisure’ time each week. Time where I will not have to do back breaking manual labor such as washing clothes by hand or dig in the the hard Rwanda red clay with hand tools.
If I do laundry, it will be in a machine with the accompanying dryer. Dirty dishes will also be done by a machine. If I work in the garden, it will be a choice–a stress reliever–not as a means of survival. I won the citizenship lottery just because I was born where I was born. My neighbors in Rwanda cannot even comprehend the level of freedom I have.
Laundry done by hand–including shoes
The 1%
We don’t realize in America that being the 99% (as in the not exorbitantly wealthy 1% of Americans) still puts us in the 1%. In comparison to the rest of the world, we all all rich. We don’t see how even a lower-middle class lifestyle is so excessively over the top as compared to how billions of other people are living. And it is hard for me to wrap my brain around it even after living in the midst of the 99% here in my village. Even with my modest little Peace Corps living allowance, I am in the top 10% in my community.
What I have in my American savings accounts is more than what most people in my village will make in a decade or two. To them, wealth is having a concrete floor or land for a cow (and a cow). To us, it’s having 3+ bedrooms and a corresponding number of bathrooms. Wealth is marble or granite countertops and a 2+ car garage. It’s fancy electronics and that extends into the bedroom with the advent of adjustable base beds. Here, even having a mattress signifies wealth. And even though RwandaFoam is a company that boasts of its quality mattresses the fact is its foam flattens out in about six months. Here, I am wealthy because I can afford a 47,000RWF mattress just for me. I am wealthy because I alone live in a two room house.
I chose to join the Peace Corps and move to rural Rwanda. According to the numerical standards used in the US, I live below the poverty line. Poverty is a choice for me. I used to feel ambivalent about my ‘friends’ protests and rage about being the 99% in America. Now I am pissed off by it. It exposes our lack of exposure to the rest of the world and the conditions they live in. The real 99%.
What does this mean for you? I don’t know. I’m not saying everyone should choose poverty. I am not that you should feel guilty or motivated to take drastic action. I am sharing how amazing I think it is that I chose when to be poor and when to stop being poor—relevant to the rest of the world. What does this mean for me? It means I won’t ever take my choice for granted. Because to me, that is the respectful thing to do after I thrust myself out of poverty.
The land of a 1000 hills
Shout out to Arrested Development’s Mr Wendel for this post’s title. As a side note, this was one of the first CDs I ever bought.
Did I really just go to good ole ‘Murica? Only a few days back in Rwanda, and the entire trip back to South Carolina feels like a dream. I left Rwanda on a Saturday night and was in my own bed by Monday. Lucy and Molly inspected me with above normal curiosity… Maybe they know I’ve been cheating on them with Sadie Mae. Thanks to the generous soul who came to fetch me, my first America meal was a home cooked feast complete with time spent with some of my favorite people. The combination of a full belly and a little more than 24 hours worth of travel had me collapsing into bed around 10p despite the party that was still going on downstairs.
My nearly one month back in ‘Murica had me meeting my new niece [born November 14 ], seeing friends and family, visiting the DMV [in person!], checking out Christmas lights at America’s largest house, dealing with the state nursing board [on-line], making doctor’s appointments, doing some light decorating to my house, and eating pizza! and salads. I weeded through piles of clothing for clothes that fit [I lost 35 pounds while in Rwanda], donated two large tubs of clothing to charity [maybe I can buy them again in Rwanda], ate out with friends, sat in hot tub, and just enjoyed America’s luxuries in general.
Here’s some general observations I have about going back to America after living 7 months in the rural Rwandan countryside:
America is rich. Excessively so. Even though I stayed in my own house [modest by American standards], I was amazed at the luxury I have. 2 acres of land. 3 TVs. Running water that you can drink straight from the faucet. Toilet. Washing Machine and Dryer. A car.
American bureaucracy sucks just as much as Rwandan bureaucracy–I just understand the language better. #governmentshutdowns
Americans eat so much. My Burrito Bowl? Easily 3 Rwandan meals; it lasted for two in America. Nearly every meal I had in America was easily 2-3 Rwandan meals.
Small towns are the same wherever you are. Even though my American neighbors don’t call me ‘muzungu’, they were definitely aware and curious about the fact that I was home.
I got off the plane and went through a fancy customs kiosk. But it literally stunned me, how professional the airport security was. They called me “ma’am” and said “please move this way”. Did you know there is no Rwandan word for please? Professionalism is something we DEFINITELY take for granted in America. It’s expected that you will be treated with respect and courtesy when you enter a service situation where money changes hands. Professionalism in Rwanda? Definitely not what Americans are accustomed to. People are late, answer their phones in meetings, sometimes even drink beer during training. Professionalism is not a value in this culture. As Rwanda tried to increase it’s service sector and therefore its economic position in the world, its people could learn a thing or two about professionalism, courtesy, and manners.
It was nice to be back in an area that is diverse–even if only somewhat. Rwanda, of course, has foreign visitors. And even refugees from Congo and Burundi, but Rwandas are just Rwandan. They have made a concentrated effort to stamp out any ethnic diversity in part due to their history. I love diversity. I love seeing different races and nationalities in the same place at the same time. I love hearing multiple foreign languages spoken at one time. And while South Carolina isn’t the bastion of of diversity that some of the larger cities, it has more going on than Rwanda.
I haven’t been back in rural Rwanda long enough to assess my feelings. I had to go back to America; I didn’t have to come back to Rwanda. Appointments to manage, licenses to renew, certifications to maintain, and medical appointment to see about. These are things I could not do from Rwanda, and these licenses weren’t something I was willing to let lapse. I also took the GRE, and while I could have done that in Rwanda, it was just easier to do from America. I wanted to see my people, and despite all the rumors you hear about Reverse Culture Shock, being back home felt ‘right.’ Oh sure, some things felt foreign, but overall, it felt comfortable, and I ‘adjusted’ real quick.
There are decisions to be made for sure, but none of that has to happen right now. And for now, I can enjoy my remaining time in Rwanda whether it be weeks, months, or another year, hang out with friends, and enjoy exploring this tiny, yet incredibly ecologically diverse country.
I even managed to get in the woods during my return to Murica
In Kinyarwanda, Umuganda roughly translates as ‘coming together to achieve a common goal’. It was originally started after Rwanda achieved independence in 1962. In the beginning, Umuganda was often called ‘umubyizi’ –and was a day set aside by friends and family to help each other. It officially became a government program in 1974. The last Saturday of the month is umuganda day and lasts from about 8am until 1p. Officially.
History of Umuganada
Initially, Umuganda did not go over well with Rwandans. Rwandans considered it forced labor, but due to its significant achievements in erosion control and infrastructure improvement – especially building projects– people came to like it and participated in it voluntarily. The 1994 Rwandan genocide disrupted the spirit and practice of Umuganda. It was re- introduced in 1998 as part of reunification efforts. Often times Umuganda projects are still the way community projects are completed.
Who participates in Umuganda?
On Umuganda day, the Rwandan government encourages Rwandans and others [*ahem Peace Corps Volunteers*] to participate. Rwanda requires citizens between 18 and 65 to participate [unless medically compromised or pregnant]. Participation by those above 65 years and below 18 year is optional. To *encourage* participation, public transportation is stopped, restaurants are closed until noon, and most market stalls are closed. [Woe to the PCV who is not in his/her community because getting there is a bitch, and Thanks Peace Corps Rwanda Staff for scheduling almost all our training sessions to end on the Saturday morning of Umuganda which makes getting back to site before dark a real challenge.]
Additionally, Umuganda also serves as a forum for leaders at each level of government to inform citizens about important news and announcements. Community members are also able to discuss any problems the community is facing and propose solutions. So it’s easy to see how umuganda can last all day.
Benefits of Umuganda
Rwanda is the cleanest country in Africa. Rwanda first banned plastic bags in 2008 in an effort to limits the amount of roadside trash. Incredibly, one can be jailed for using plastic bags. [This knowledge did not stop me from smuggling in nearly 250 ZipLoc bags of varying sizes. I know, I’m a rebel.]
The tourist sections of the country are incredibly clean as umuganda projects are often about cleaning up the roads; however, in the non-tourists areas, rural areas, or ‘real Rwanda’, trash is still a problem mainly because there is no centralized collection. People burn their trash or throw it in the latrine. I’ve personally taken trash from my home (especially plastic bottles) and threw it away when in cities where public trash cans were sometimes available. I don’t know that this is the best solution, but living so close to a larger city, it’s an option for me. I really don’t like burning plastics.
Economically, Umuganda adds a lot back into the local economy. Since 2007, labor associated with Umuganda contributed more than US $60 million to the country’s development. Some reports estimate more. Like a lot of things in Rwanda, umuganda sounds good in theory but often translates poorly in practice. Sometimes too many people show up for one project; sometime not enough people show up. In the poorer areas, people often refuse to show up especially during harvests because time is literally money. Some people see the value of education. Some are too poor to pay school fees, and therefore don’t want to waste time on a school.
It’s difficult to enforce umuganda laws if one simply stays home. However, the government imposes a fine of 5000RWF if one misses Umuganda duty. Here’s a link from NPR about a story they ran in July 2018 about umuganda. Here’s a clip showing Rwanda’s president participating in Umuganda.
At home, I have a pile of foreign currency that I used to decorate my house. Some of the more colorful bills are framed; others are just in a jar, or more accurately, a glass block with the term ‘travel fund’ applied to it. It reminds me of places I’ve been, and I’m still just a tiny bit sad I was never in Europe prior to the introduction of the Euro. All that to preface that fact that I still refer to Rwandan Francs as ‘play’ money instead of ‘real’ money. So are you curious about the finances of a PCV in Rwanda? Just how many Rwandan Francs do I earn each month. What exactly is a Rwandan Franc. No? then move along. If the answer is yes, have I got a post for you.
Prior to joining the Peace Corps, I was an Amazon addict. I ordered everything, and I do mean everything, I could on-line so that I would not have to go to a store. I hated everything about shopping from going to a store to search for what I need to standing in a check-out line. Shopping in Rwanda was one of the tasks I looked least forward to.
AMAZON delivery Rwandan style. I received two tables for my house delivered on bicycle
Enter market shopping.
Tomatoes, onions, rice, fruits, beans, toilet paper, clothes… All of these transactions are now done in person, in cash, in the market. Which means not only talking to people, but also having the cash to carryout that transaction.
First stop–getting that cash to start.
Rwanda has several main banks, and most of the time they work as expected. Unlike in America, if your bank card is misplaced or stolen, you cannot get a replacement the same day. The process could take months. Months! of having to plan your banking around banking hours to actually go in the bank. [shudder]
I am paid by the Peace Corps approximately $200/month in local currency. These funds are deposited into a bank account in my name. These funds do come with a debit card; however, at least in my banking town, I find very few people who will accept it. So usually twice a month I go into the banking town to withdraw funds so that I can do the market shopping. The only thing worse than market shopping is going into the banking town for banking purposes AND carrying around large sums of money.
Picture this scenario, if you will:
I’m strolling through the local food market searching for the tastiest tomatoes, freshest fruit, most exceptional eggs, or whatever. I see something I like, approach the vendor and ask the price [all of this occurs in a language I’ve had exactly six months practicing.] The vendor sometimes replies back in French; sometimes in Kinyarwanda. Great, two languages I’m not very good at plus math. My eyes roll around in my head as I try to remember how to count in French; I then repeat what I think is the number in Kinyarwanda. No matter the price, the reply is always ‘You’re crazy… That’s too much…’ I go back and forth trying to get things to a reasonable price, and when I do, money exchanges hands along with a very heart-felt ‘Murakoze’. And then the scenario is repeated at each and every market stall for every item I may wanted to buy.
It. Is. Exhausting. This scenario is a prime example of about half the interactions I have when I go food shopping in Rwanda. BUT I will not be taken advantage of because of the color of my skin. Or the words that come out of my mouth.
Before Training
There’s a lot of tasks that you must do prior do setting off for some far-off destination. And a lot of that costs money. In theory, the Peace Corps gives reimburses you for some of those expenses. In practice, however, I never received anything. So I’m starting off in the hole.
Pre Service Training
Peace Corps | Rwanda arranges for home-stays and gives that family a rather large sum of money to house and feed volunteer for the training period [Our training families received approximately 100,000 Rwandan Francs which is why after week 2 and my meals were dwindling in quantity and quality I made the off-hand comment that ‘I am supplementary income for this family. I won’t go into a lot of detail about the situation, but I will say that I was proven right. And was the situation was proven true with other volunteers from other cohorts. Again. and Again].
Peace Corps then gives you, the trainee, a bi-weekly allowance of 47,000 Rwandan Francs. In theory, this amount allows you to buy lunch everyday, phone credit, maybe an outfit or two, and snacks for yourself. It’s not a ton, especially when lunch is around 5000 francs, and when the host family isn’t feeding you, buying dinner with that 47,000 doesn’t get you very far.
Setting Up House
After swearing in you get a chunk of money to help set up house. For PC |Rwanda, we receive around 275,000 R Francs. Is that enough? For me, it was plenty because my space came fully furnished except bedding [which I brought from home]. I did have to set up a kitchen so I probably spent 150,000 or so on that including a gas stove and a 15kg tank of gas plus 2 kitchen sized tables.
The furniture in the house belongs to the landlord so the previous volunteer really didn’t leave me much of anything of value. The bottom line is that 275,000 Francs isn’t a lot especially when you have to buy furniture, and you might have to wait on some things.
In addition to the settling in allowance, PC will reimburse you up to 100,000 RWF for the purchase of a bicycle if you convince them you need it [a policy change—they used to just give you a bike, and there are about 20 used TREK bikes partly covered by a tarp at PC HQ just wasting away] .
Monthly Stipend
Each month after swearing in you get a stipend and sometimes another mid-month payment to cover one-time expenses and reimbursements. The stipend is supposed to be enough to maintain a standard of living equal to that of your community, but in reality at least my standard of living is a little bit higher than my community.
For December 2018, I received 198,094 Rwandan Francs. Converted to US$, it’s just over $225.
Peace Corps breaks it down in to categories:
Ultimately, how I spend that is up to me. Financially, I am comfortable in site. Sometimes I even save a little. This is not the case for all PCVs. Those in bigger sites or more rural sites sometime have to spend more.
Living allowance: 120,596 [this is supposed to cover all food, laundry, clothing, internet/phone credit, evenings on the town [HA!], ect]. It rarely does.
Bank/ATM Fees: 1000 RWF. Rwandan banks are worse than American banks and I can’t walk past an ATM without 1000 RWF being deducted from my account. But for example, it’s 236RWF for every transaction at your bank and 1587 for transactions at other banks.
Leave Allowance [goes towards any vacation I might take]: 30, 800 RWF
Utilities: 7,094 [we’re required to pay our own electricity and also includes someone fetching water for me]
In-country Travel Allowance: 6416 [for official PC travel, trips to banking towns for official business, ect]
I speak from experience: the second I leave site I start hemorrhaging money. There’s the expense of travel itself. And eating Every.Single.Meal out. I can’t put the amount of money I spent in Dec while on med hold in print because it’s so scary. Let’s just say I’m glad I was frugal in Sept/Oct/Nov.
Here is a sampling of prices:
One month of phone credit/internet: 30,000
Hotel room: 15000 Dorm 5000
A liter of milk: 1000
Enough fruits, vegetables, bread, eggs, ect to last me the week: 5000
Liter water: 500 RWF
Dozen of eggs: 1200 RWF
Finally, unlike in the U.S. I never spend money on medical supplies like band-aids, ibuprofen, condoms or prescription meds. That’s 100% covered by Peace Corps. I have yet to be actually sick, so I’m not sure I’m realizing that benefit.
Of the living allowance 6400 is earmarked for travel. This covers any mandatory and/or Peace Corps organized travel but not optional travel, even if it is work related. If we don’t spend it on travel, it’s ours to spend how we please. But as one trip to the capital costs 6600-7600 round trip, it doesn’t go very far.
Another year has come and gone. I KNOW! How is that even possible? It seems like only yesterday I was packing my bags for Madagascar, and yet here we are.
But Life, as life tends to do, happened, and my long awaited trip to Madagascar turned into a should I or shouldn’t I go to Rwanda. [Spoiler alert: I probably shouldn’t have gone to Rwanda]
But despite any misgivings I may or may not have had, I DID in fact get on the plane. A plane headed to Kigali, and late in the evening of June 6, I along with 23 others Peace Corps trainees arrived in Kigali –dragging behind us entirely too much [actual] luggage, and if I’m honest, a bit of invisible luggage in the form of fears, hopes, dreams, and expectations.
Just a few weeks ago, the oldest volunteers’ service came to an end and the newest volunteers were sworn in and sent to their sites with their own literal and figurative baggage. The key difference between these new volunteers and our group is that these new volunteers are based in the education sector while my group is based in Health. I don’t know if that makes me a ‘veteran’ volunteer or not, but I feel some relief that my cohort is not the ‘newest’ group in country any more.
Can I believe that I have made it this far? No, not really. I’ve had issues with my health center from the beginning. Do I have thoughts/feelings/words of wisdom? You better believe it.
Words of wisdom
Advance research about your host country is a good idea but has limits. For example, when researching Rwanda, the 1994 genocide is the first thought in everyone’s mind. Then maybe gorillas, if they are into nature. Guidebooks will give you insight into the life of a tourist and ideas about places you might want to visit, but very little into the life of a local. And especially not as a rural local. And especially not as an outsider coming into a rural area.
And while you can be a literal country expert, the PC director has to the power to make or break your PC experience. Example, Health 10 and Health 9 had very different experiences. A lot of that is due to the Country Director.
Time goes quickly. Even the difficult days of PST, where every waking moment was controlled by Peace Corps, time passed by rather quickly. A day’s end seemed to come right after dinner, and the beginning was far too early.
Time goes slowly. There are days when I do very little.
Being able to be Peace Corps Volunteer is a huge privilege. Sure, you will hear people say “it’s a privilege to serve” but I mean a different kind of privilege. The path to getting here—which at minimum requires a college degree and the ability to leave responsibilities in the U.S. behind for 2 years—is littered with privilege. I wish more Americans could have this experience but the barriers for entry are too high. Especially if you are not a recent college graduate, have children, an exorbitant amount of debt, ect.
For people who don’t like Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, and [fill in the blank with social media de jour], I hear you. People who can’t have a thought without making a post about it annoy the snot out of me, but for PCVs living in remote spots, Facebook, WhatsApp et.al. are nothing less than a godsend for feeling like you still have contact with the outside world.
My mental health has be mostly stable. I’ve had a few issues; a few what the fuck am I doing here moments, but I have maintained my sanity. I’ve never suffered from depression and/or anxiety before, but I’ve had more panic attacks in the last six months than I have ever had in my life. I assumed leaving would be 100% my choice. Turns out that’s not always how it works. And if I do end up not serving the two years, who knows what the actual cause will be. Because in the end, a hundred things can happen that are outside the realm of control that can cause service to end early.
I am American. Not I am “an” American. That I knew. Living in another country has made me more aware of the things about me that are truly American: personal space, free will, self-reliance, imagination, and non-conformity are all things to be celebrated. My preference for a straight answer rather than vague mumbling in agreement when someone really had no plans to agree. My thoughts on pet ownership [despite what our Country Director thinks/says cats are great for companionship and critter control] and child rearing [hitting a less that five year old child for not wanting to take medicine, go speak to the ‘muzungu’, or a myriad other offenses] is not OK in my book. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to sit back and sit on my hands and watch parents literally BEAT their children. [PC’s official policy is that volunteers are not to get involved in matters concerning host country nationals. PC can kiss my ass on this policy and if I’m ever administratively separated it will be because I stood between a child and adult daring the adult to, as the saying goes, ‘pick on someone their own size.’] There are million other little things. It’s all American.
Excellent critter control
I am proud to be American. Mostly. I have no illusions that America is the greatest at everything and I disagree with many stances that my government takes but I don’t believe you have to have a “love it or leave it” mentality to be patriotic. It turns out that I do love America and have affection for many of our most ridiculous habits, traditions and idiosyncrasies.
Some things are neither better nor worse, just different. But some things are most definitely better or worse. Living abroad gives you the chance to clarify your values. What merits compromise? What doesn’t? I feel confident in saying that as a woman moving through western society, I have it way better than 99% of the women I know moving through Rwandan society. Cultural relativism is one thing, access to education and reproductive rights, freedom to reject misogyny, the ability to have legal recourse against rape and domestic violence—that’s another. Not that these things are perfect in America. But they are So. Much. Better.
It’s hard to explain to Peace Corps to outsiders. From the long periods of idleness where you struggle to find work to the long periods of idleness that actually are work [sitting for four hours drinking tea with your neighbors because some neighbor’s relative–you’re not sure whose–died]. Important community integration work! A lot of it does not makes sense to people who haven’t lived it.
Everyone’s service is their own. How I hated hearing that during training. It sounds like a platitude but it turns out to be true. As a volunteer in Rwanda I have it way different than those in Paraguay, Georgia, or Vanuatu ; as a woman my service is different than a man’s; as someone in a rural site my service is different from someone who lives in an urban environment; as a close to middle aged person with a career my service is different from a fresh out of college person. The list goes on and on. Everyone’s service is their own.
I don’t regret it. A couple of months in I said “even if I had to end it now and go home tomorrow, this experience has been worth it.” I still feel that way.
So here I am at almost 7 months in. Do I think I will I make it to the end and celebrate close of my service? [July 2020 for those who are tracking.] Who knows? Do I feel some great loyalty to the Peace Corps? Not really. If we were evacuated due to Ebola, would I be sad? Not at all. If I get accepted to grad school at an earlier time than my COS date, will I go? Almost certainly.
