Peace Corps

Money, money, money

January 6, 2019 Elle Peace Corps

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.

Long story short (too late!) I do okay.

End of the Year Review: Peace Corps Edition

December 30, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

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.

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.

These [certainly are] the days I’ll remember. Natalie Merchant and the 10,000 maniacs accompanies this post.

Where there is no wi-fi: blogging

December 9, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

My house is a two room brick structure surrounded by concrete with with a tin roof. It has intermittent electricity, and there’s no wi-fi to be found. So how do I manage to blog from my rural Rwandan village?

Here’s what I have in the way of technology:

a simple laptop, case, and charger
SIM card for buying mobile data bundles
a smartphone I bought in Rwanda
a USB to micro-USB cord

Gone are the days of firing up the laptop, connecting wireless-ly to the cloud, and writing while also uploading and editing photos. Gone are the days of having 10 tabs open at once. After some months of trial and error, these are the steps I now take to produce one blog post:

Charge the laptop fully either while having electricity or at the health center.
Draft and edit blog posts at night in a Word doc.
Plug phone or storage drive into laptop and grab images for said blog post.
Walk 4 miles (uphill both ways –no snow–) with laptop, cell phone, and USB drive into Huye, go to the nicest Catholic boarding house around [or second option a coffee shop with spotty wi-fi], buy a Fanta or milkshake depending on my location, add mobile data to my phone, and take a seat.
Set up a hotspot
Copy and paste posts onto WordPress, upload photos and add tags. I usually upload a month of posts at a time and set the to auto post every Sunday.

I can, and have, written and published many posts entirely through my phone. I prefer to type on a computer for quantity and quality writing.

This set up works OK… Not great…Not perfect but it gets the job done. I for one will be glad to returning to the land of Starbucks and free wi-fi sooner rather than later.

Splish Splash

December 2, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

Splish, splash, I was takin’ a [bucket] bath
Long about a Saturday night, yeah
A rub dub, just relaxin’ in the tub
Thinkin’ everythin’ was alright

Well, I stepped out the tub
I put my feet on the floor
I wrapped the towel around me and I
Opened the door……………………………
Bobby Darrin

Taking a long, hot shower [or even a short, hot shower] or a relaxing bath along are two of life’s greatest luxuries. As neither are available to me at the present time, I can only dream… dream that one day my back will get clean, the hot water will pulsate and rumble all around me, and I will work out any muscular kinks.

There are no such luxuries in my life. In Rwanda, my life revolves around a bucket. Or more accurately, buckets. A bucket for a bath. A bucket to wash clothes in. Another bucket to do dishes in. You see how it goes.

To say that I am not a morning person would be a gross understatement of fact. SO. More times than not, I do not bathe in the morning, I use those extra few minutes for another cat nap, and everyone’s is a little happier.

My morning routine

I roll out of bed around 6:45am. By that time, the roosters have been cockle-doodle-doing since about 4:30a. And the cows are moo-ing about who knows what and despite the fact that I sleep with my windows open, and do in fact hear the world coming to life starting about 5a, I roll over, pull the blanket over my eyes, turn the music up just a little bit louder, and drift in and out of consciousness for the next two or so hours.

6:45 is the absolute latest I can arouse myself, find clean[ish] clothes, make my hair look like I, in fact, did not stick my finger in an electric socket, drink 500ml of water and eat a piece of fruit and call it breakfast, brush my teeth, take my vitamins, and get to the health center by 7:00a. Most of the time, I am the only one present at 7a, but they say work starts at 7 and like the punctual American I am, I’m there at 7 [or at least by 7:15].

Also, notice there’s no time to be messing around with buckets at this time of day, but what I do, is pour water from my jerry-can into my bathing bucket until it is about 1/3-1/2 of the way full, probably using about 7-10 L of water. I then set this bucket outside in the sun, and let that amazing star perform it’s magic.

Step-by-step for bucket bathing

It’s rarely what I call hot these days, [and though sometimes I do sweat while going on long walks, it’s usually confined to the back of my head… dry shampoo is a wonderful thing] so cold, straight from the tap water is a no-go; if it’s a choice between cold water on a cool day or being dirty, being dirty may just win out.

My day usually ends around 2p so I walk the 50 or so steps from the health center to my house, make lunch/dinner, and if it’s been a sunny day, whooooo-weee…. my bucket now contains lukewarm water, which is more than adequate for me to do the deed. [It’s amazing what we can become accustomed to/ becomes normal]

I have tried to make my shower room ‘rural Rwanda luxurious‘. Bucket bathing still sucks but at least with all my tools in the designated spot, and not having to schlep them around from here to there, makes it not suck as much.

My ‘luxurious’ shower room at the house on the corner

12 Steps for the perfect bath

Step 1: Prepare the water. Either use the sun (easiest) or use the stove to get a little warmth in the bath water

Step 2: Gather all needed supplies. Nothing worse than needing something and not being able to get it

Step 3: Get nekkid… except for flip-flops. No amount of cleaning will make that floor clean. Wear the flip-flops.

Step 4: Hang clothes on the nails loving pounded into the concrete

Step 5: Fill my cup with water.

Step 6: Take washcloth, wet, take soap and wash face. Use the water in the cup to rinse soapy face. 20% done. [Every.Single.Time I am amazed by the amount of dirt I see in the cup.]

Step 7: Fill cup again and pour over head. This part is so much nicer with lukewarm water.

Step 8: Shampoo. Lather. Rinse. Rinse again. 40% done.

Step 9: Using a washcloth [or loofah scrubby thing], soap it up and begin scrubbing. I usually start at the top and work my way down… over the hills and valleys and peaks and crevices, if you know what I mean. 60% done.

Step 10: Rinse. It’s actually not too bad with warm water. While I still miss a faucet and actual hot water, this will suffice. 80% done.

Step 11: Wash feet. Without really realizing it, it’s amazing how much dirt they can attract… even while wearing socks and shoes.

Step 12: Rinse feet and marvel at the amount of dirt/dry skin you’ve removed. 100% done

Addendum:

Dry self and put on clothes… Bonus points for remembering to bring clean ones.

This process usually takes approximately seven to ten minutes. When it’s a nice sunny day, there is nothing more enjoyable [in Rwanda anyway] than sitting outside, freshly bathed in the sun reading a book while letting the sun dry your hair. It’s one of the few times I can enjoy bathing, because in rural Rwanda, bathing is no longer fun; it’s just another chore to be done.

Postscript: I have one of those Amope foot things…It is essentially a battery operated sander for feet. I use it once a week on clean feet, then slather clean, scrubbed feet in Vaseline. Finally, I put on socks and go to bed. It’s amazing how much nicer my feet are since I started doing this.

Bucket bath tools needed:

1 Bucket
1 cup [anywhere from 8-16oz will do], or empty plastic bottle
Soap of choice
Shampoo of choice
Flip-Flops
Non-electrical lighting [not necessarily needed if you are bathing in the middle of the day]
Towel and washcloth

Shout out to Bobby Darrin’s Splish Splash for this post’s inspirational title

On being thankful and having gratitude

November 26, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

What I am thankful for–Peace Corps year one edition

Once upon a time a friend and I used to send each other our daily gratitude lists. A list that would have anywhere from 3-7 items on it that we were truly thankful for, and would sometimes be as basic as clean water and air or as complex as a peaceful resolution to a serious problem. It was a good way to start the day… being in a state of gratitude before leaving the house. Because sometimes life happens, and life can be a bitch.

This week contained the American Holiday of Thanksgiving, and for the second time in a decade I find myself outside the US for this distinctly American holiday. I find myself feeling more grateful than I have in quite some time, thanks to the last few months living in Rwanda and its inevitable way it shifted the way in which I experience the world.

I am the mashed potato maker

Why am I so full of gratitude lately?

I am thankful for my education.

Lord knows I have enough of it and sometimes it was a struggle to get and pay for, but never, not even once, did not think that I couldn’t finish high school or go to college. I may have been/be on the most circuitous path ever, but dropping out of school because I’m female has never crossed my mind.

I was a latchkey kid, got myself up and fixed my own breakfast from about 8 years onward, and caught the school bus until I could drive, but these struggles are nothing compared to what many students in Rwanda face. Many students walk up to six kilometers every morning to get to school, some without shoes over the hilly and rocky terrain. Some struggle to concentrate, because their growling stomachs compete for their mental attention. They sit snug as bug next to their classmates — three, sometimes four to a wooden desk — in the hot or cold classroom of up to 60 students. They rely one notebook and one pen with zero additional educational materials. Kids return home, make dinner for their families, sell food at the market, and take care of their younger siblings. And repeat it all, the next day.

Living in a place where so many students stop attending school after primary school… primary school! reminds me how much of a gift my education is. I am lucky for the teachers that challenged me and the resources made available to me, and while I can’t name every teacher I’ve ever had, I do remember some of the more special ones and am thankful for them on a regular basis.

I am thankful for the kindness in my life.

Rwanda is not an easy place to be a foreigner, and I’d guess it’s probably not that easy to move to a different area within the country. My guess for that is due to the genocide that occurred almost 25 years ago. Depending on their age, most adults in Rwanda were alive during that period either as babies, children, or young adults themselves. It doesn’t come easy or natural for Rwandans to trust outsiders. That being said, I have experienced kindness while I’m here. The people I work with who help me learn Kinyarwanda on a daily basis. The people who have helped me find my way when I’ve gotten turned around. Kindness comes in many forms here, but one usually has to prove his or her worthiness in order to receive it so it’s nice to experience true kindness with no strings attached.

I am thankful for life’s challenges and the values instilled by overcoming them.

It’s the hurdles I had to jump in the past that make me the driven, independent person that I am happy to be today. If it weren’t for the bumps along the way, I would not have had the opportunity to grow in ways that I did and continue to do.

As much as I have dealt with and overcome in my life, people in my community face an entirely different set of challenges than challenges I have faced and ever will face. Their resilience, perseverance, and unwavering hospitality in these times of difficulty, is admirable. Going through tough times in America, while still challenging, is not the same as going through tough times in Rwanda.

I am thankful for learning more about myself.

As noble as “saving the world” sounds, a majority of my Peace Corps experience thus far has been a heroic adventure of self-discovery. I have found the beauty in stepping outside of my comfort zone and saying “yes” to self-growth opportunities. I have practiced patience, continued to learn the value of making mistakes, and appreciate the importance of perseverance. I am becoming more sensitive to what makes me happy or sad, and making decisions based on those observations. Self-respect starts with making decisions with your happiness [among other things, of course] in mind.

I am so grateful that my time here has allowed me to grow in these ways.

I am thankful for my friends and family.

Though there are few places on Earth I could be where I would be physically farther from my peeps, my time away has made us closer in many ways. In order to join the Peace Corps, I had to quit a job, ‘alter’ a relationship, and give up my kitty cats to the care of another person. The support from my friends and family allowed me to start a new chapter of life in Rwanda.

Separation often acts as a test, whether it intentional or unintentional, and to my delight, I have a small little team of supporters cheering me on this adventure of mine. While I probably could have survived [ definitely not thrived] without them, it makes it a whole lot easier knowing that someone I know is watching Lucy and Molly, people are sending me little notes and gifts, letters and postcards, and people are generally interested in what I am doing.

I am thankful for a gained perspective on the world and its people.

I’ve traveled a fair amount prior to joining the Peace Corps. I’ve even been outside the country for an extended period of time before. I always try to be a temporary local rather than a tourist whenever I go some place new. But staying in a neighborhood for a week or even a month at a time is not the same as staying in one place for a year [or two if I make it that long]. Being in the Peace Corps gives one the opportunity to truly immerse oneself in a community, and if that person is lucky, have the community accept them as one of their very own.

I often think to myself how lucky I am to be experiencing the world through a different lens while I spend each day immersed in a community on the other side of the world. With each culture brings unique values and it has been enlightening and refreshing to experience Rwandan values, and see how they take precedence over things that are often obsessed over in the American world, such as technology, material items, money and work. Life here has changed my perspective on my personal values and I am grateful for the lifelong lesson my neighbors has taught me.

I am thankful for my cohort.

We are now a group of 22 unique and individual souls having lost a member just a few weeks ago. [She went home; she didn’t die]. To be honest I would have never even crossed paths with a lot of my cohort, let alone entertained friendship. But at almost 6 months in, I now have a ‘brother’, and a handful of close friends in the cohort which makes sticking out through the tough times a little easier. Being together [however brief] during this last week has made me realize how much I miss those who don’t live so close to me.

Things I miss about the USA

October 21, 2018 Elle Peace Corps Wanderlust

Happy Labor Day. These random holidays like Labor Day and 4th of July and Memorial Day has never really meant too much to me. Working in health care, days like these are really just regular days. There’s no such thing as ‘holidays’, or at least not in the traditional sense where I’d get the same days off as everyone else and get do things like hang out at the lake with friends or enjoy cook-outs for the holiday. So in that sense joining the Peace Corps has been interesting. At one point or another I’ve celebrated every American holiday outside America, and some countries’ holidays inside that country. But nothing can replace celebrating the holiday in its original form… And while I’ve only been gone from the USA for a few months, there are still things I miss. This post is from my previous travel blog from when I spent 16 months traveling around South America (with some updates from what I’m missing now… Some things change; some never will… like my love for good pizza).

Pizza Pizza is probably my favorite food on the planet. Back home, I probably ate pizza 3-4 times a month. Not always the same kind or from the same place, but pizza (and a salad when I’m feeling healthy) has been a staple in my diet since the early years and I don’t suspect it leaving any time soon. I did find pizza goodness in Buenos Aires and Mendoza; however most of South America and all of Rwanda has been a huge disappointment in terms of pizza. Bad crust, bad sauce, strange ingredients. I can’t wait to hit up Barley’s Taproom or Sidewall’s or the Mellow Mushroom for some good pizza with olives, feta cheese, spinach, and tomatoes.

One of my Peace Corps goals is to make a pizza… a delicious pizza like the one pictured below.

Watching American sports. I am a huge sports junkie and I miss meeting up with friends to watch March Madness, college bowl games, or stressing over Tennessee football. Fall is always the hardest because college football in nearly a religion in the south, and I am a follower of the sacred University of Tennessee. Watching my favorite teams at odd hours via slow internet streams just didn’t cut it, and while going to sporting events where I am is a small comfort, I am never going to follow Mexican bullfighting, Venezuelan baseball, Peruvian football, Rwandan basketball, or Buenos Aires polo when I am at home. [Although I happily watched Super Bowl XLV live.]

I am grateful that I was in a country that was a soccer loving one with time time zones close to the original for some of the world cup matches. Before joining the Peace Corps, I had hoped to score tickets to World Cup|Russia, but watching the games in this tiny corner of the world where soccer rules, is great for international bonding.

Food variety. If I ever eat white rice again, it will be too soon. Seriously, that seemed to be the hallmark of almost every single meal I’ve eaten over the few months. I wasn’t a big fan to begin with, but having it on the plate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner got old. Fast!

One of the staples of Rwandan cuisine is–you guessed it–white rice. It’s no wonder I never eat this in America.

Free, non-carbonated water in restaurants. Again, this should be self-explanatory. Plenty of places offered free snacks, but free water? Not a chance.
Public transportation. Even though back home I do not live in an area with good public transportation, I like going to places where it’s accessible and easy to use. MARTA in Atlanta has gotten me where I needed to be on more than one occasion. Subways in Rome, New York, London, Moscow and Buenos Aires are amazing. If I didn’t live in a rural area, I’d be all about using light rail (like Seattle’s metro link that whisks me to and from the airport to the center of town without issue) or whatever was available. Motor bike taxis, bicycle taxis, mini buses, cars nearly falling apart, and cabs—not so much to my liking.

Bogota’s TransMileno is surprisingly efficient, and while crowded at times, it is a much better option than loading up a minibus to maximum capacity +1 and having people yell ‘stop’ when they want to get off the bus.

Knowing where to find things. Again, yes, you can buy just about everything you need on the road even in tiny remote villages in the middle of nowhere. But finding those things can be a challenge. In most of the places I visited (and Madagascar is no exception), daily essentials were spread out among many smaller stores and it took me days (or weeks) to figure out where to go for what I needed.

OH, how I love Target. I spent part of my last visit to Seattle walking around this three story gem located right in the middle of the city. They had everything…

Not paying to use the toilet. Or even finding a toilet when needed. I think this one is self-explanatory. Fun fact: did you know that, according to The Guardian, the top 10 worst places in the world to find a toilet are in Africa. One is Madagascar [4th worst place in the world to find a toilet] and two of Rwanda’s neighbors also make the list [Tanzania and Congo] and there is a World Toilet Day (it is November 19th if you’re curious), dedicated to keeping everyone’s shit corralled so that fecal contamination of the water supply as well as diseases transmitted via the fecal-oral route are diminished.

Another Peace Corps’ goal: to make myself a luxurious toilet where my knees don’t creak every time I must use it or in emergency situations, shit does not splash on my shoes/feet.

Respect for people’s time. Even though I am not a scheduler by nature, I do appreciate time. At home, when someone says “let’s meet at 8:00,” they generally mean “let’s meet at 8:00.” If they are running late, they will call or text you to let you know. We have a basic appreciation for people’s time and not wasting it. Such was not the case while I was traveling. Nothing seemed to start on time and someone saying they would meet you at 8:00 meant hopefully they would be there by 9:00 – likely with no contact whatsoever to indicate they may be late. When we were planning anything that include non-Americans we always gave a fake time. 7:00 meant 8:00 or so. Indeed, most people didn’t arrive until closer to 8:30. I think this just reflects a more laid back attitude, but as someone who hates waiting around for no good reason, I will take the American way every day.

German trains and s-bahns are always so punctual. If I lived in Germany, I’d never be late anywhere.

Alexanderplatz

I have found a general lack of respect for time in nearly every corner of the globe… except Germany and Switzerland… oh how I love that place; they are so punctual.

American men. I know many women love over foreign men. Heck, I have even dated foreign men [One abroad, one who had moved to USA], but overwhelmingly, the foreign men I have met [mostly Italians and Hispanics] are overbearing, controlling, condescending, and overprotective. I do not like being yelled at or whistled to in the street. I do not like being asked if I ‘want to fuck’ because those are the only English words they know. For me, that machismo attitude is such a turn off! Give me a good old American guy who can see a woman as his equal and appreciate her independence. A guy that smells clean, wears cologne sparingly, and bathes regularly. A guy who wears baseball hats and khakis rather than skinny jeans, and who is at least my height (5’9). If he has green eyes and curly hair, well, I’m a smitten kitten.

Free wi-fi: Wi-fi is slowly making its way down south, but it is not always free, nor is it always reliable. It brings me back to the Ethernet cords I had in college. Or dial-up. Both make me appreciate how prevalent wi-fi is in the USA. [and Canada and Europe]. 2018 hasn’t brought many upgrades to the poorer corners of the world.

But what I miss most about being away from the USA, is people and kitty cats …co-workers, friends, and family + Lucy and Molly.

How I spend my days

October 7, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

When I was preparing to go into Peace Corps|Madagascar, I read a lot of PC blogs from a lot of countries and I found that there are a plethora of “Day in the Life of a PCV” posts out there. At first, I read them with fascination, completely hooked on every activity.

Example:

5:30am – Wake up.
My thoughts: Wow! They get up so early! They must be so productive! I’d also like to point out that this was my usual bedtime for non-working days in the US. I am the epitome of a night owl.
6:00am – Start cooking breakfast.
My thoughts: Wow! I wonder what they’re eating? How do they cook? How long does it take? I’ve never really been one to eat breakfast… mostly because that’s my bedtime.

7:00am – Fetch water.
My thoughts: Wow! Fetching water! Just like Little House on the Prairie!

I know. I am a Peace Corps nerd.

Truth be told, my day-to-day life in the Peace Corps is, not unsurprisingly, much like day-to-day life in America. We get up, we do what it takes to eat, and clean up. We work, we sweat, we come home, we bathe, eat again, and we relax. We have days off, we travel, we come home and panic about how much work we have to catch up on. See? Just like at home.

Well, almost. Peace Corps life, while much like life at home in some ways, also has its dramatic differences. I think a lot of people really wonder: just what are you doing over there aside from your assigned job? Today, instead of the hour-by-hour breakdown of my daily routine, I want to give you a glimpse of what fills my days.

I’ve never been one for routine, but in rural Rwanda it’s all about the routine. Here, I rarely use an alarm clock. Instead, the roosters go off around 4:30am, and continue pretty steadily and increasing incremental volume until around 5:30am when I am awake and just procrastinating getting out of bed. I usually get up around 7 or so depsite the roosters cockle-doodle-ing for hours[In Ecuador, it was the monkeys howling, here roosters. At least the monkeys are cute. I threaten the roosters with my soup pot]

First order of the day: eating. Like many volunteers, I try to organize meals around what will involve the least amount of dish washing and water consumption. For me, this is generally a piece of bread and a fruit, usually a banana or sometimes an apple. I don’t drink coffee or tea so it’s usually just 500ml of water to go with it. On the mornings when I have a wild hair to do something crazy and have extra time or Saturday or Sunday, I may whip up a batch of pancakes complete with hot chocolate. [<—–This does not happen often].

After eating, it’s usually time to haul water. I use about 80-90 liters of water a week, all of which must be hauled by hand or head from about 150m away. I usually haul water 2x/week. 50L at a time. [of course during the frequent water shortages, this chore become infinitely easier as there is no water to haul] Then, I have to treat and filter my drinking water. Next, I may glance around and find dead insects or any number of other deceased night invaders. Sometimes I find a dead mouse head if SadieMae [the friendly compound cat] has been a good cat instead of a lazy cat.

Finally, it’s time to dress myself for work and head out to the clinic. Or maybe someone has given birth overnight and I’m doing baby measurements. Or maybe I’m going to the market to buy some vegetables. Maybe I have a meeting, and everyone is likely to be two hours late. Either way, these work related activities can take up a good chunk of the day, and as a rule it’s always longer than I expected it to take.

By mid-afternoon, if it’s not raining, the sun is hot and it’s time to ‘rest’ or in my case get some chores done and cook my big meal of the day. This means dishes, laundry if I’m getting desperate for underwear, taking a bath if I’m feeling extra ambitious, and hauling the water to go with those activities. Laundry must be hung to dry, and it can take a few hours to hand scrub sweat stains out of T-shirt sleeves.

Sometimes I do medicine inventory–By hand

As the sun creeps lower in the sky, I might fire up my the stove. I’m still wary of cooking with gas. I have a somewhat not-so-irrational fear of blowing myself up. Then, cooking. I never know what I want so often I boil water and cook vegetables or something easy. Finally, just as the mosquitoes are coming out, I’m headed under the bed net. I use this time to edit pictures, blog, write letters,talk to my US peeps, or read. Sometimes I read for fun; other times I’ve got my nose stuck in medical books. I’m usually in bed no later than 9pm, but often don’t actually try for sleep until 11p or 12a. (Once a night owl, always a night owl).

So there’s a day in the life of a Peace Corps volunteer in rural Rwanda. And this is just a village day. Conference days are really different.[Breakfast at the ungodly hour of 7a; meetings all day] Travel days are different in that they involve a whole lot more sitting and gnashing of teeth [get to bus station, buy ticket, wait for bus, sit on bus, arrive to Kigali. change buses,ect] . Each of us do the same chores and daily routine activities that we did back in America, but here, these things can take half the day instead of a few minutes. Take laundry for example: instead of wadding up my dirty clothes, tossing them in the machine, pouring in soap, and walking away and doing something else for a bit, laundry here can take hours. I have to first haul the water, get the clothes soaked and soaped, scrub until my knuckles are raw, do a whole rinse cycle in a different bucket, then wring everything and hang it to dry. While you learn little tricks to cut down on the time consuming nature of these activities [like soaking your clothes in a bucket of water and soap overnight], maintaining ourselves at our sites takes a lot of our time and energy.

I grow things in pots

Work, which can vary with the day of the week, takes up the other large bulk of our time. Babies come when they want whether a meeting is scheduled or not. Screenings can take all day. For example, if a mom/baby doesn’t show up to a scheduled meeting, we have to chase them down. Is the baby OK? Are they eating? Is mom OK? If it rains or there’s a funeral, your whole daily plan might fly out the window and you have to start rescheduling things all over again.

Day to day life here is full of little joys, little disappointments, and lots of the regular things we did back home, but now we do them Africa-style. In Peace Corps, no one day is quite like the next, and if you ask me, that’s the best kind of daily routine.

meeting day–the question is always what time will they show up?

I’m a stranger here myself

September 30, 2018 Elle Featured Post Peace Corps

What the actual F*ck am I doing here?

It’s a question I ask myself daily, sometimes hourly, and occasionally every few minutes. Even now, I don’t have a clear answer. I’m a stranger in an area used to having Peace Corps’ trainees. As long as I stick to main roads and predictable schedules, all is well. But when have I ever stuck to main roads and predictable schedules?

I have been in Rwanda two months and yet, I’m still a stranger. All of that time other than one week has been in our training village of Rwamagana, Eastern Province. Here we learn the Kinyarwanda language and learn how to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. How to be a volunteer? Yes, because as of now, I am still NOT a Peace Corps Volunteer, merely a lowly Peace Corps Trainee. The one week not spent in Rwamagana was spent visiting my site. Aka the place where I’ll arrive a stranger and leave a full-fledged villager [PC gaol for intergration]. Let me tell you, during that week I asked myself the above question about 100 times. A day.

After two months, I’m still a stranger in the host family I’ve been placed in. Truth is most evenings I’m ‘home’ alone. Host mom spends an ungodly amount of time at church. And host sis is a teenager doing teenager things. Which means not hanging around the American Adult who has kicked her out of her own bedroom.

What the actual f*ck am I doing here? y5rWhere the h*ll am I? Why isn’t there any food? How can I get the f*ck out of here? Why am I headed to yet another bar when I’ve told this person I don’t drink? Is it too late to go back to work at my [nice] job in America? The one with awesome co-workers? Or my house with my [oh-so-comfy] bed? Or my kitty cats? Why did I think becoming a Peace Corps volunteer was a good idea anyway?

One of the two sweet kitties I left behind–Hey Miss Lucy

My Peace Corps Journey

I considered applying to the Peace Corps when I was in high school. And then again after college. It was part of the reason I studied foreign languages in college. But as LIFE tends to do, it got in the way and I saw my immediate post-college years running away from a bad relationship [quite literally as I spent years 22 and 23 on the run in Mexico–and Belize–and Guatemala–and El Salvador…you get the drift] and then running towards a career [any career].

24 would have been the perfect time for me to join the Peace Corps. I was mostly unencumbered by responsibilities. I was nearly fluent in Spanish. I’d spent much of the last year and a half teaching English as as Second Language in various places to various groups of people. Aside from the political aspect [and while PC claims to be apolitical, an overwhelming majority of PCVs lean democratic. That’s neither good or bad; it’s just a fact], at 24, I was a Peace Corps’ poster child–a person with just enough life experience to still see the good in everyone and still want to save the world. I was a person unsure of my life and career goals. I was exactly the type of person that the Peace Corps seems to attract.

At this stage of my life, my 20’s have long passed [thankfully]. I am still about as apolitical as they come, and I while I have a career as a nurse, no one in their right mind would call me a professional do-gooder. I am as sure of my career and life goals as one can be when FATE is involved.

So what am I doing here and why I am I doing this exactly?

Well, it took me a long while to work that out.

I’ve written about that a couple of times already, but even though there are several contributing factors, at my core, I want to help people. And yes, I could ‘help people’ without putting my life on hold, and moving 7800 miles and three continents away, but where’s the adventure in that?

To date, I have traveled in 54 countries [although none in Africa until now], but never really lived in one area other than the upstate of South Carolina for a period longer than four months [except that one time, I moved to North Carolina, but my LIFE was still firmly ensconced in South Carolina.] My reasons are as varied as any other PCV’s reason are, and yes, at the end, I hope to get something tangible in exchange for my service.

My site seems to already know about permagarden techniques

Where is here? And Rwanda?

Well, it wasn’t my first choice….

But when was the last time you met anyone who has been to Sub-Sahara Africa, let alone lived there. I know a few people who have visited a handful of countries, mostly in East/Southern Africa. Not many people I know even consider Africa [as if it is one country instead of one rather large continent consisting of 54* individual countries] as a vacation destination. And Rwanda? If not for this opportunity, I can almost guarantee than I would have never set foot in the country. And I like to consider myself a traveler,and in my mind that means doing my best to experience the touristy parts of the world as well as places that are off grid. And in 2018, Rwanda is still off most people’s grid.

“I want to help people.”

And I really do want to help people. I’ve worked in healthcare for most of my adult life. If I didn’t truly want to ‘help people’ there are a lot of other, less strenuous, less soul-draining professions out there. Professions where I could make more money, have a better life-work balance, and not spend all hours of the night awake.

But American healthcare is complicated. The overwhelming majority of my co-workers want to ‘help people’. Yet we often know that whatever we do–whether it’s a life-saving measure in the Emergency Department or Continued Care in a Rehabilitation Department–it’s a stop-gap procedure. Yes, SOME people do GET IT. Some people see it the catalyst needed to do massive behaviour change. However, for the most part, Americans are repeat offenders in the health care system.

Now I’ll get my chance to work with patients who really want and need help. Of course, creating behavior change is still going to be hard.

Panoramic view of an area near my future house

Third Goal

One of PC’s central missions for each volunteer is to share their story with people in America. A blog or Instagram account is an easy way to do that. So is writing for the local paper or sharing my story in person. In addition to writing this blog, I’ll be doing a presentation in at least one elementary school classroom during my service.

Forth Goal

Ok, so there is no official 4th goal, but for me, joining Peace Corps’ is a way to slow down in inevitability of life. People say the older you get, the more time flies, and at this stage of life, I’m starting to see that. The pressure to settle down, get married, have a career is intense. Momentum is carrying me along and sometimes I can’t seem to stop it. Of course, there are less dramatic and more practical methods of changing habits and behaviors than moving to a remote Rwandan village for two years. But where would be the fun in that?

Being Lost

July 1, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

I’ve been trying to finish this post for a few months now. I don’t think I’ve ever struggled so much trying to put in my words how I feel about fear. But I’m going to try, let’s do this…

Does anyone else have an annoying voice in the back of their head that only appears when it wants to cause you doubt, discomfort, or most importantly, fear? Nope, just me then? Fabulous. Hearing voices [just one voice ya’ll, I promise] at an age where things shouldn’t bother me, and publicly admitting it?Even better.

You want to climb Mt. Kilaminjaro?

Voice in my head – you definitely can’t. You’re not strong enough and you’ll probably fall off it.

Want to go to the Middle East or visit Stan?

Voice in my head – who do you think you are? You’ll probably be murdered.

Think you’ll be a good Peace Corps Volunteer?

Voice in my head- You’ll be the first to leave

Dream of becoming a nurse practitioner?

Voice in my head – you’re a horrible nurse. Why do you think someone would choose you to be their healthcare person? Why bother trying? GAH.

Thanks so much, voice in my head. I really appreciate the support.

I don’t really know how this happened, but somehow over the past few years, fear and doubt have crept into my life in a way that I have never experienced before. And you know what? It absolutely sucks.

I used to jump into everything life offered me with complete abandon. Now? not so much.

I’ve hiked trails that are 6 inches wide, climbed really sketchy mountain, and traveled even when I had literally no money to my name, knowing deep down that things always sorted themselves out in the end.And for the most part, they did. And while I had plenty of terrible travel screw-ups over the years, things always worked out. I have always believed that fate smiles on those who take chances.

But what happens when you start to worry more and take less chances?

Oh crap.

But somewhere down the line, I started to become more afraid of things that never scared me before. Whether it was something physical that I now considered dangerous or going after a dream that seemed too impossible, fear has set up its own little pup tent in the back of my head and made itself at home.

Age, I imagine, is a key factor. Isn’t that what people are always saying? You grow more cautious as you grow older? Well, I reckon the journey to becoming fearful doesn’t matter as much as what the hell am I supposed to do now?

Seriously, WHAT?

Do I just warmly embrace my newly found caution and fear, or try and get over it? Or attempt to strike a healthy balance between the two. I like to think I’ve always been a curious person. I always want to see what’s around the corner, want to know why things are the way they are, and am eager to try new things. For the most part.

However, fear has decided to join the party and often now gets in the way of my bigger curiosities. I want to see what’s at the top of that mountain but I’m afraid I can’t get there so I don’t try. Or sometimes I’ll compromise and climb a smaller mountain.

Confession – I’ve become a bit of a wuss. I’m afraid every time I try something new. I find that I really have to force myself now to try new things.

Oh how many times have I beat myself up for not fitting in. For being off beat and goofy. I’ve known that I was a little bit different from an early age. I’ve always skirted the norms of polite society and cultural standards. It’s even harder adapting to a culture that is not your own.

As I sitting here, reflecting on fear and how it plays a part in life, thoughts such as I’m not smart enough, brave enough, talented enough, experienced enough, skinny enough, young enough, ect. Enough is enough.

What I am is a creative, passionate, loyal, loving, empathetic person. A person intrigued by life, fascinated by philosophies, and curious enough about the world to go explore it. I am so much more than the color of my skin, the texture of my hair, and the size of my ass.

Fear is complicated. Obviously. And even more so when it brings along its friend self-doubt.

Fear will always be there. A healthy amount of fear keeps up from petting the black mamba. It’s not a question of becoming fearless but learning to accept that fear is there, it’s part of your life and it’s not going anywhere, but it should NEVER be in charge or have a say in making creative decisions.

It’s time to be brave, y’all.

At the same, I’d like to think that travel has helped me deal with fear. For example, there are some things that never occur to me could be scary that I do all the time because I’ve gotten so used to them traveling.

The obvious example to this is the fact that I travel the world alone. As a woman.

In fact, I think that’s something that truly surprises people and when I share that little tidbit to folks I meet on the road, I am often met with skepticism and the usual “wow aren’t you afraid?”

But I digress.

Every trip I took taught me something. Every screw up I have had has taught me a lesson. I suppose in a weird way it taught me confidence, not something I have in abundance, that’s for sure. But I am confident with my ability to travel.

I learned to deal with travel fears early on, and now I need to learn to deal with my other fears, mainly the fear that I am not physically capable of doing something I want, like a hard hike or rafting the Nile. But also how to deal with my fear that I won’t be able to go after my big creative dreams.

I think people who travel are inherently brave at heart. You pretty much have to be to step out into the unknown, right?

And if I were truly a wuss, would I have joined the Peace Corps? Would I have gotten on the plane to Kigali? Would I have left behind everything I know for an extended period of time. Probably not.

So perhaps, I’m just being hard on myself.

Settling in

June 17, 2018 Elle Peace Corps

Days 2 and 3 involved getting ourselves safely to Kigali–an adventure by itself. Our bus was about an hour late getting to Philadelphia. Then the driver wasn’t really sure where he was going so he was on his phone both as a GPS and texting. There were a couple of close calls where he tried to occupy a currently occupied lane, but we made to JFK airport without incident.

While yes, we are all legally adults, and have a fair amount of life experience, I thought there’d be a little more assistance in the getting from Philadelphia to Kigali, but nope, once we waved good-bye to the desk officers, we were on our on. We departed the US with 24 Peace Corps Trainees and arrived in Kigali with 24 Peace Corps Trainees so I call that a success despite sitting in the last row of seats on the trans-Atlantic flight [they don’t recline… at all]. Nearly 24 in-transit hours later, we were reunited with out bags, successfully passed customs, and were whisked away to the convent for our first chance at settling in.

You may think I’m kidding when I say convent, but no, out first two nights in Kigali were spent in a Catholic convent/ Jesuit priest retreat [thanks US budget cuts]. The nuns were nice, the food was basic, but entirely edible, and there were flushing toilets. I call that a win.

First night in Kigali–in the convent

We spent most of the time in Kigali being herded around like cats, interviewing with several people about several things, setting up Rwandan bank accounts, getting an intro into the Kinyarwanda language [it’s hard], and getting up-to-date on shots. Then just as we were settling in at the convent, we are whisked away again–this time to our training site which will be our home for the next three months.

These three months consist of a lot of language training and some basic ‘how-to survive in Rwanda on your own classes in health and sanitation.

Friday ended with us being placed in our host families which I lovingly call –being dropped off at the pound– since we were like little lost kittens anxiously awaiting our ‘adoptive’ family to claim us.

Mine finally did, and once again I was herded off to yet another location to attempt to settle it. Let’s just say this week has been… ummm Interesting.

adventureadikt