I enjoy orienting myself to a foreign place. People speak of preparing for the culture shock of coming to Africa. I don’t like the word “culture shock”. It doesn’t fit me or at least my experience. Rwanda is just a different way of living. In many ways, learning Rwanda feels similar to learning NYC in the summer 2001. Sensations of uncertainty and adventure seem to parallel the experience of that summer, when I was on my own for the first time and in New York. Really, how much more culturally shocking can it be than for the girl from the conservative Christian bubble to live in Manhattan’s East Village? In fact, I enjoy the Africa adventure more.

Sunday afternoon/evening, I went over to Nyanja’s house. The moto taxi driver ripped me off. I had to pay a whole $1.90, instead of the $0.95 I should have been charged. The $0.95 cents was worth it – I got to see how real Rwandan’s live. Nyanja kept telling me that everything takes so much longer hear. I definitely got a taste of that at her home. Nyanja’s mother lives in a house, high up the hill. While the view is beautiful, water is not pumped up the hill – so everyone on the street has to go down to get water from the well. I also had the special privilege of being in the kitchen while Nyanja’s mother, Josephine, cooked. I guess she never lets other people in her kitchen. The kitchen if very different – the stove/oven are two metal stands that are filled with Charcoal. It was Nyanja’s birthday celebration. In Rwanda it is the birthday girl/boy, who treats everyone else on his or her birthday. While Nyanja did preliminary things, her mother was the real mistress of the kitchen. Josephine is Francophone...but that didn't stop her from battering me with questions via Nyanja translation and side commentary.

One question that I've gotten very frequently from Rwandans is "are you married?" When that question came from Nyanja's mother, it must have been the 7th or 8th time. Her reply was much more animated then most (except the lawyer's proposal). Josephine proceeded to tell me that very pretty, I'm too picky and independent and that I should start having children right away. I laughed. I retorted that most men weren't tall enough. She laughed and retorted in french "See. Too picky." She sounded frightfully like an American mother. She's probably right on point three, but that isn't going to change. I'm not going to give my independence up for just anyone. I guess some would say she's right on point two.

Josephine has quite a story. She's this energetic happy woman. She'd been in prison for 11 years after the genocide even though she was Tutsi and had protected others. Nyanja's family is one of the few I've met who where here during the '94 genocide. Nyanja is quite open with their story.

Josephine made a traditional dish – ugali – that is a staple in Sub-Sahara, Africa. In each country it is called something different. Josephine served the dish with a saucy-chicken dish and carrots & peas. Ugali is eaten by hand from a communal dish. The first step of the meal is to wash you hands in the presence of everyone else. Using a canteen from the well, we poured water over our hands into a big red bucket on the floor. Then, we proceeded to eat – with our hands. I sat quietly, listening to the Kinyarwanda banter of Nyanja’s family as I tried to master the art of gracefully eating with my fingers. There is a technique…I never quite got it. While I didn’t understand most of what was said, Nyanja would translate conversation cliff notes. With gestures, they were able to see my response. At the end of the meal we all washed our hands again, using the canteen from the well, the big red bucket and (this time) soap. Then it was time for the Nyanja birthday family photo shoot, at the opposite end of the front porch.


The next day – Monday - I was walking down the street to grab lunch and I felt a tap of my shoulder. I turned around and there was Nyanja. It’s funny. I’m in a foreign country where I know one person, outside of my co-workers and, the one day I go out to get lunch, that person grabs my shoulder. Nyanja came and sat with me while I ate lunch.



Rwanda seems to be one of the “Africa for beginners” places as Helen described it last night. It’s like Hobbit-town – in the countryside, the fields are cultivated in nice orderly little rows. Except, hobbits are peaceful. While Rwanda is peaceful now, that’s not exactly the history. Who is Helen you ask? Well – she can’t be defined by place. Born in Bahrain, early childhood in Jamaica, raised partly in the UK, lived in Mozambique for 9 years as well as other parts of Africa, currently based out of Melbourne in Australia but doing a 9 week project for Angola and visiting the Rwanda for a week. See what I mean? Not defined by place. She is one of the wittiest women I’ve met – but then what else would you expect of an expat part-Brit? Helen came to visit Melissa. They had been prayer partners in Mozambique, with 3 other women. They are the closest of friends. During Helen’s visit, Melissa served a delicious dinner – 3 courses, each accompanied by sparkling conversation.


I think I mentioned Ingas (pronounced EE-nahs), the night security guard. He, and my coworkers are teaching me a little bit of Kinyarwanda. In return, I am teaching them a lot of English. All university studies are in English. Ingas is security guard by night and student of finance by day. Sunday, he mentioned that there were certain words in his notes that he didn’t understand. So, I suggested that he make a list of words and I could try to help explain them. It is quite difficult explaining English, in English, to someone just learning English. After a few minutes I grabbed my French to English lexicon. It was fun to see the light come into his eyes as he read the definitions. I ended up giving the lexicon to him, as I thought it would be much more useful for him than I.

Finally, here are some pictures of Chantal and Damacine. I’ll let you figure out who is the cook, who is the gardener. It isn’t exactly rocket science. ☺ I'll try to get Ingas' picture in the next few days for you.