Zanzibar: There and Back

(Pictured here [from top to bottom]: a Zanzibar door; a Red Colobus Monkey; a Zanzibar beach; the face of a building from Stonetown.)

The trip to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania was a real adventure. We left very early from Kigali on December 19 and arrived in Dar es Salaam very late the next day. The bus trip was over 30 (thirty) hours long, but the view was great. Tanzania and Rwanda have very different terrain. In fact, 20 (twenty) minutes after we crossed the Rwandan border into Tanzania, all the hills disappeared; Tanzania is very flat.

Apart from the terrain, I noticed many other differences. I immediately noticed the weather change, for one thing. Rwanda has a very high elevation and we were driving down to sea level, so the heat and humidity rose very quickly. Rwanda is also the most populated country (per square kilometer) in all of Africa; as we drove through Tanzania I noticed that people were not living on top of each other like they were in Rwanda. In fact, there were even times as we were driving that I didn't see a single house or person. Rwanda is also full of bananas; a characteristic not shared with Tanzania.

We arrived in Dar on December 20 and immediately changed our American Dollars to Tanzanian Shillings. Then we caught a ferry across the channel to the archipelago of Zanzibar. The ferry ride was awesome; it was less of a ferry and more of a cruise ship or something. The ferry had air conditioning, flat screen televisions, and very comfortable seats. The ferry ride lasted about 2-3 (two to three) hours.

Once we completed all of our paperwork to enter Zanzibar (there was so much paperwork at every step of this trip!), we met with our host, a friend of a friend that agreed to let us stay at his place for two weeks. His letting us stay at his place for free was awesome news; we found this out about two weeks before we left for the trip. More awesome news was that his house was just outside of Stonetown, which hosts an interesting portion of Zanzibar's shops and architecture.

We received not very awesome news, however, after we exited the ferry and met our host. Specifically, he told us that Zanzibar was currently without power and had been for a few weeks. Our host told us that the government was making promises that the power would be back on within a week; he was hopeful, but sceptical. The power never came.

So the house we stayed at was awesome, but because of the lack of power we didn't have electricity or running water. In order to take showers and wash cloths, we scooped out water from an underground tank that our host had on his property. I have washed cloths by hand and have taken bucket baths SEVERAL times before, so this was no problem for me. The problem was that the house was a sweat box! There was no crosswind, so the house was full of heat, stale air, and mosquitoes...my God, the mosquitoes! Sleeping was difficult, I soon found out as I lay on a couch covered in sweat and swatting at the mosquitoes that always seemed to bite me right as I was dozing off to sleep.

This didn't affect my mood, though; nothing could dampen my spirits. Well, almost nothing. I did receive some bad news while on the bus ride from Kigali to Dar es Salaam. Jean-Marie, my secondary counterpart and best friend in my village, texted me to let me know that the director of the health center we work at had transferred him to a health center in another village; the village was only like 30 (thirty) minutes away, but he would have to move. This news did not please me at all; I didn't realize how close friends he and I had become until he told me this news. I felt a legitimate sense of loss when he texted me his goodbyes and wished me safe travels.

Putting this bad news behind me, the group and I spent our first day in Zanzibar looking for a good beach. On the way to a beach that our host had recommended, we stumbled upon the Mbweni ruins. These ruins were the site of an old church, an old factory, and many more structures. We explored them for a while and pressed on towards the beach.

*

The beaches of Zanzibar are bitter-sweet, as we soon learned. We went to many, many beaches and I won't make this blog entry longer by describing each beach adventure, so I'll sum them up. Zanzibar beaches have an incredible low tide. This is cool because you are able to walk around and find a lot of aquatic life. We saw hermit crabs (land and water), clams, starfish (Brandon found one bigger than his head!), sea cucumbers, fiddler crabs, and different kinds of smaller fish. We also found a jelly fish. Well, it found me...at least my leg. (That hurt like hell.) We also found a TON of sea urchins, which I began to loath towards the middle of our trip. I stepped on one and got a thorn in my foot. Malcolm got hurt the worst, though. On New Years Eve he stepped on one and got his foot covered with the spiny protrusions! He is currently getting them pulled out by the PCMO in Kigali.

The night of the first day we visited a place called the Forodhani Gardens. We went there several times after the first night; again, I won't describe every visit in detail, but I'll sum them up. Forodhani Gardens reminded me of the 'Taste of Chicago,' but for Zanzibar. The Gardens is set up in a large courtyard area every evening and there are about 30 (thirty) tables set up in this area. Some tables sold biscuits, breads, and even sugar cane juice (delicious!), but most of the tables were hosted by fishermen; these tables showcased their catches for the day. We walked up to the tables, told them what we wanted, and they cooked it on a grill behind the table. It was great; we ate lobster, crab, muscles, shrimp, squid, octopus (side note: according to some fishermen, eating octopus gives men incredible sexual powers; of course, this was explained to us in much more vulgar terms, but its an interesting bit of cultural information, none-the-less), shellfish, shark, eel, barracuda, tuna, white fish, and so much more...for real cheap too!

Most of our time was divided between hanging out at the beaches and walking through Stonetown. Stone town is very cool; again, this is where the bulk of Zanzibar's shops and cool architecture reside. The streets of Stonetown were narrow and motorbikes and bicycles honked noisily and zipped past us as we wandered the streets. The smell of deliciousness filled the air as we walked past curios displaying exotic spices and items from Kenya, Tanzania, the Middle East, and India. Zanzibar doors, covered in 4-6 (four to six) inch spikes, lined either side of the narrow roads. (Side Note: These spikes are a characteristic of architecture found in India. Apparently, Indian palace doors are lined with these spikes to prevent intruders from overtaking their palaces with elephants. There are no elephants in Zanzibar and, even if there were, the streets would be too narrow to allow an attack on any curio via elephant.) Shop owners greeted us in English and Swahili (the native tongue of Zanzibar and all of Tanzania, for that matter) and invited us in to view their wares, try their teas, and purchase their spices.

We shopped at these curios for quite some time. Though most of us had limited funds, we agreed that having a 'Secret Santa' Christmas would be pretty cool...and it was. Malcolm drew my name from the hat and got me a real cool Tanzanian soccer jersey; I picked Tom and got him this cool Masai weapon; I forget its name, but it was club-like. Christmas was fun, in spite of it being the hottest Christmas ever for me and being half way around the world from my family.

Two days after Christmas, by this time there was like 12 people (all from different NGOs and NPOs) in our host's house, we decided to take a 'spice tour' as one, big group. Being on the 'Spice Island' we couldn't leave without experiencing this attraction. The tour was of a 'spice garden,' a king's palace, the slave caves, and the local beach; we also had lunch included in the tour.

It was amazing; our guide drove us out to the countryside and led us through a 'spice garden' and pointed out the various spices and fruits that grow in a typical Zanzibarian 'spice garden.'

Wait, wait, wait!

Not only did he point them out to us, he let us eat some too! We tried fruit like jackfruit (which tastes like a cross between pineapple and banana), coconut (straight from the tree), pineapple (no biggie), starfruit, lichee fruit, and more. And we tried spices like vanilla, cinnamon, lemon grass, nutmeg, cardamon, and many more. After walking the garden we ate at a local place and continued our journey to see the king's palace, the caves where Arab slavers contained the African slaves they caught, and the local beach. The attractions after lunch were okay, but I thought the best part of the tour was in the morning: walking through the gardens and eating everything our guide suggested we try.

*

The next day Tom, Malea, Miya, and I visited the Jozani-Chwaka Bay National Park and took a park tour. This tour included a walk through the forest, monkey tracking, and a visit to the mangroves; we could have also seen sea turtles for a few dollars extra, but we were tired after those three attractions and we really didn't have the money. At any rate, the walk through the jungle was beautiful and the mangroves were pretty cool. What I liked best were the monkeys! Zanzibar has a very special breed of monkey called the Red Colobus; apparently, they are found only in Zanzibar. We tracked them down alright, but there wasn't much tracking involved at all! As soon as we started walking towards where the monkeys are usually spotted, we stumbled upon them instantly. There must have been 30-40 (thirty to forty)!

Two days after that tour, we took a tour of the old Anglican Church, which, before the church's creation, was the site of the slave trade market. We toured the church, the tunnels underneath the church, and we saw the memorial built for the slaves that had passed through this area. I would recommend this tour if you are interested in Zanzibar history and want to spend some time out of the sun; this tour doesn't take much time, though. If you have some time and are interested in outdoor activities, however, the two previous tours I mentioned are the best bang for your buck.

The next day was New Years Eve; we visited Kendwa Rocks...a beach resort...I bet you thought I was going to talk about another tour, right? Nope. The tours are done. Anyway, Kendwa Rocks had, by far, the best beach ever. In the evening there was a big NYE party, but I did not partake. I know, I know. Laaaaaaaaame! But I was so tired! I had eaten an awesome meal and I just wanted to rest. The room I was in had a fan (the resort had a generator, so they had some power), a nice bed, a shower, and NO mosquitoes. I read a bit, listened to some music, and passed out. That is how I rang in 2010.

*

The next day, our trip to Zanzibar was officially finished. We packed up our gear and took the ferry back to Dar es Salaam. We knew someone in Dar, so we stayed at her place for the night. She showed us a little of the city, but we mainly just hung out at the mall. That's right, baby! Dar's got a mall! I felt like I was back in the States...air conditioning, ice cream, a fast food place, everything! Hell, they even had a real movie theater! (I became sooooo home sick that day.) So we all took in a movie...'Sherlock Holmes'...very entertaining, I thought...a bit long, yes...but I was eating popcorn in a legitimate, air conditioned movie theater...I didn't want the movie to end!

When we got to her place, which was also air conditioned, we watched CABLE T.V.! Cable, man! I still had to sleep on a couch, but it was the best couch ever. Her apartment complex even had an elevator...an elevator! (Again, I was really, really home sick that day.)

*

After a good night's rest, we got up early in the morning and began the 30 (thirty) hour bus ride back to Kigali. The trip back was horrible. Not because we were leaving, though that did suck, but because the bus was in shambles and the driver was crazy. On the way from Kigali to Dar, the bus ride was good. The seats were nice, the driver knew how to drive, and the bus even had a television...we watched music videos and the great JCVD flick 'Bloodsport'...in English! The way back was NOT on the same bus. We seriously thought we were going to die a couple of times. Anyway, we made it to Kigali safe and sound.

Once I got back to Kigali, I immediately started working on loading pictures to facebook and writing on my blog. And that was my trip to Zanzibar...

ALSO! It has almost been a full year since I have started Peace Corps. I'd like to do a 2009 reflection entry at the end of this month or some time in February. Keep a look out for that...

Zanzibar, Tanzania...here...we...COME!

(Pictured Here: Africa.)

Leaving tomorrow...VERY early in the morning...27 hour bus ride from Kigali, Rwanda to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Once we arrive in the city, we will take a ferry to ZANZIBAR!

Once we arrive, it is going to be sandy beaches and Indian Ocean sea food for two weeks, baby! I encourage everyone to google Zanzibar, Tanzania; it has a very interesting history AND the pictures are beautiful.

In other news, the PC trainees swear in tomorrow and become official PC Rwanda Volunteers. Congrats to my capable comrades.

It has been kind of a slow week here; busy with preparations, but slow as far as interesting stories and events are concerned. Anyway, please do keep us in your prayers as we PCVs are traveling these next few weeks. Happy Holidays to all and God Bless!

PCT Site Visits, a Close Shave, and GLOW Camp

(Pictured Here: Dieudonne and Mugeni walking down the aisle.)

November 2009 closed out strong and December 2009 is looking AWESOME! This is becoming a great end to a great year.

Thanksgiving was pretty cool. A bunch of us PCVs got together and cooked at the Peace Corps office in Kigali. We had all the fixings: sweet potatoes, a turkey, and even apple pie for desert. Good times. Good times.

After Thanksgiving (on Sunday, November 29) I attended the wedding of two nurses, Dieudonne and Mugeni. As weddings go, it was pretty standard. Don't get me wrong, it was fun and it was AWESOME to see my two co-workers marry each other, but the wedding itself was normal and followed the same formula as the other weddings in which I have participated. However, I only attended the religious portion of this wedding. I missed the dowry ceremony, which took place earlier in the month; I couldn't afford to go to Gisenyi again, the site of the dowry ceremony.

Later that week, Peace Corps began scheduling some of the current trainees to visit me at my site. Their objectives were to live with me for a couple days, ask me questions, and get a general feel for living in rural Rwanda. I had three different trainees come at two separate times to visit me and each visit lasted about three days and two nights.

The visits went great, I thought. The trainees that visited me were good guys and I am sure they are going to do very well in Rwanda. These site visits are not standard practice, however. Usually, trainees are sent out to their sites for a week to see where they will be living and working for the next two or three years. Because these trainees have yet to have their sites finalized, Peace Corps Rwanda decided to send them to current PCV sites for a couple of days instead.

I am very happy these site visits happened. Not only did I get to know some of my colleagues a bit better, but our exploration of the countryside led to a few interesting stories. Most notable, I suppose, is the hair cut adventure that Scott, Kevin and I had last week. The long and short of it, quite literally, is that I had my long, golden locks shaved COMPLETELY OFF...I am talking to the scalp, people...bare skin! Ah! So the story goes a little like this...

...Scott and Kevin came to the Rwamagana country side (last Monday afternoon), where I live. I got their things in my house and we rested for a bit. After brief introductions, I asked them what they would like to do first. Kevin mentioned that he wanted to get a hair cut. Scott and I agreed that this was a good idea for us all, as we were all a bit shaggy looking. I was excited about this expedition because I had never had my hair cut in my village; I always went into Rwamagana city and convinced PCV Crissy to cut my hair. I have received hair cuts by Rwandans before...most Rwandans don't know how to cut white peoples' hair...I never really like the results...ha! HOWEVER, I did need a hair cut and I knew that I would not see Crissy for another two weeks, as she was leaving for Ethiopia the very next day. I figured I would just suck it up and get another Rwandan hair cut.

Kevin, Scott, and I walked next door to the barber shop. Though we only traveled a few yards, we already attracted a sizable crowd; it was time to see the white man get his hair cut! After briefly negotiating the price for our hair cuts, I volunteered to go first. I figured that Kevin and Scott would see me get my hair cut and decide if a Rwandan hair cut is what they really wanted; I just wanted to make sure they knew what they were getting into.

So I took a seat in the chair and I began making small talk with Kevin and Scott...you know, just shootin' the breeze...trying to be a good host. Well, I was looking at them while I was speaking and I was NOT paying attention to how my hair was being cut. When I did get a glimpse of the left side of my head, where he was shaving, I noticed how much hair he was actually shaving off...I became a bit startled to say the least. Every time I have had a Rwandan hair cut, my hair was cut very short, BUT I still had some hair on my head; I figured that this time would be no different. WRONG! This hair cut was to the freakin' scalp! He was sheering me like a sheep!

At that point in the hair cut, I had two choices: I could have him do the same shaving job to the right side of my head and have some sort of bowl cut or something OR I could just get it all shaved off. Well...I just let him shave everything off and now I am bald. I have only now really started getting used to how it looks and feels. It sure is a lot cooler, that's for sure, BUT I look like a giant baby! I really don't care for the look and neither do my neighbors in the village; they openly laughed and mocked me...kind of a humbling day. The whole thing was still pretty funny, though.

Cultural Lesson Learned: Make sure the barber has a guard on his sheers before he begins shaving!

The next day was December 1, World AIDS/HIV Day. The health center I work at organized a village-wide party at the local group school to educate people about the disease and celebrate healthy living. The party was great! It began with some speakers and short sketches organized by the cooperatives run by HIV positive villagers. Later in the evening a live band came and played for a couple hours. This live act was complete with drums, electric guitar, and bass guitar; the first live band of this kind that I have seen in Rwanda. They were great! We danced in this little classroom for almost two straight hours. It was soooooo fun! After the dance party, the nurses got together with me, Kevin, and Scott and we had a couple of beers and goat brochettes. It was so well organized and so much fun.

After I dropped off Kevin and Scott in Kigali on Wednesday of last week, I went straight to the Red Cross Center in Kigali to help my fellow PCVs in organizing and executing the Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) Camp. The Camp hosted 80 girls, ages 14-20 years, from all over Rwanda for about a week. The Camp's purpose was to encourage and empower these girls to be leaders in their schools, communities, and, after graduation from secondary school, in all of Rwanda. The Camp had notable speakers talk about public health and nutrition, workshops about leadership and teamwork, and a bunch of fun events such as a dance party and a talent show.

I could speak more in depth about GLOW Camp, but it would seriously take like two or three blog entries to describe the week and what happened....it was AWESOME! AAAAAAAAAND, it was totally and completely organized and executed by PCVs; I didn't do much to help put this GLOW Camp together, but I did help execute it. I was a facilitator and I was in charge of escorting a specific group of eight (8) girls from session to session; I even taught a few health sessions to the girls myself. It was blast. I just got back from it and I am in a state of exhausted enthusiasm, if that makes any sense. I probably should have waited to write this blog entry, but I am going to Tanzania next weekend and I still have a bunch of things to do before I can go on this vacation.

Random Side Note: PCVs in Kigali found a place that is open 24hrs; it sells beer, Gyros, and other fast foods! This news is so incredible, you don't even know.

Well, that has been my life since the last entry. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers as my friends and I trek through Tanzania. Peace!

Hot Springs, Circus Performers, and...a Never Nude?!

(Pictured Here: Rwandan Circus Performers in Gisenyi.)

Wow! These past few weeks have been very busy; since IST, the time has just been flying by.

Since my last entry, Halloween has come and gone. A group of us decided that it would be cool to get together in Rwamagana and celebrate. Rwandans don't recognize this fun holiday, so we were on our own; we came up with our own decorations and costumes. It was rough. We didn't even have pumpkins! We had to carve green peppers. Ha! Okay, well, we didn't HAVE to do it, but Brandon thought it would work...it sorta did.

The day before the party, Brandon and I decided to visit the market in Rwamagana and see what we could buy to create our own costumes. I ended up buying a 'fighter pilot' jacket I found. I decided I would slick my hair back, wear aviators, and chew gum...thus, 'Iceman' from 'Top Gun.' Brandon bought a bunch of Rasta clothing and decided to go as 'Rastaman.' Emily got REALLY creative with her costume and created a whole butterfly outfit which turned out really nice.

Malea and Tom came into town the day of the party and visited the market themselves. Malea already had a costume (a tourist), but Tom was still searching his heart, and the used clothing piles, for just the right costume. Tom settled on buying two blouses, one of which looked suspiciously like a cape, and wore them in such a way that his appearance resembled that of a street walker...I mean, a night walker...or...a walker of the night?...arg...he looked like a vampire (not a prosti-dude) is what I am trying to say here.

Malcolm attended the Halloween party too. He, like Tom, also took risks regarding his costume. Malcolm came dressed as a 'Never Nude,' a very fictitious and hilarious psychological affliction made famous by the show 'Arrested Development.' Kara and Crissy (overhearing Brandon's disgust for 'those girls back home that dress as 'sexy cats' every Halloween') dressed as 'sexy cats.' Brandon foolishly thought he would finally attend a Halloween party that had no 'sexy cats' in attendance...wrong!

It was a really cool night; the weather was perfect, the food was great, we had a fire going, and there was plenty of beer to be had. (AND...we had 'sexy cats!') Good times.

In work related news, the HIV/AIDS mobile testing units have finished their rounds. We tested almost 2,000 people, which is awesome; those people testing positive with HIV have been put into our counseling program and have started their ARV treatments. Some of these people have even joined some of the cooperatives (established by the health center) to raise money to help fund their treatments; these cooperatives mainly raise and sell goats. These cooperatives also serve a social function: as a support group for themselves and as an awareness group for schools, churches, and such. The newest health campaign was started this week: getting children vaccinated for Polio...so far, so good.

Switching gears and traveling back in time, the last two weekends were pretty cool. On the weekend of November 6, Brandon got the urge to explore the country a bit. He asked me and Malcolm if we were interested; we said 'yes.' The three of us decided to go to Gisenyi. Gisenyi is a Rwandan border town (next to the Democratic Republic of the Congo [D.R.C.]) in the Northwestern part of Rwanda; Gisenyi is on the Northern beaches of Lake Kivu.

We arrived in Gisenyi on Friday night. The next day we began to explore the city. We immediately stumbled upon a group of Rwandan circus performers juggling and doing gymnastics. We stood around and watched them practice their performance for a while. After a good hour or so we went to see the DRC border...it was alright...it was nothing as cool as seeing the Tanzanian border, though. (The Rusumo Falls were very cool!)

We were getting hungry. We decided we had to see ONE MORE sight before we ate lunch. This ONE sight was really the reason why we decided Gisenyi, of all the places to visit in Rwanda, was the best place to visit this particular weekend. Why did we think this? Because in the travel guides it says that Gisenyi is home to volcanic hot springs that, according to the residents, have mystical healing powers. We couldn't resist.

So we got to the hot springs and...they were cool, but...they were small, like puddles. I was thinking they were going to be these huge pools of warm water in the middle of some lush, jungle-like setting. I thought we were going to swim and I would be cured of the chest cold that I had been nursing that week. Wrong. The 'hot springs' were little, bubbling puddles of warm, sulfur-smelling liquid. They were neat, don't get me wrong, but I totally let my expectations run wild on this one...so, I was let down a little. Meh...it was still a fun trip, though.

The next weekend, the three of us (Brandon, Malcolm, and I) set out to the Southern part of Rwanda to visit some of our fellow volunteers and the new Peace Corps trainees at their training sites. We didn't have time to check out anything else, but, apparently, there are a bunch of art and historical museums in the town where the new training is being held; I saw the museums in Butare while I was completing my training, but I haven't seen the ones near the new training sites. Malcolm, Brandon, and I decided we would check them out the next time we were passing through that area.

Back to a work related update; the schools are on break now. My class is PACKED again! This time, however, it is not loaded with the 'movers and shakers' of the community as much as it is loaded with high school students on vacation. I still have a lot of older students, though.

My students are asking me for a break. I couldn't agree more. I really hope I don't jinx myself by announcing this, but me and a few of the volunteers are trying to get a two week trip to Zanzibar going next month. Zanzibar is a small 'island' off of the coast of mainland Tanzania, in the Indian Ocean, and I hear its awesome. The trip planning is going well; I am happy to announce that I have the tickets reserved and ready to go. Man! I can't wait! I really hope this works out. I'll keep you posted.

The October Post

( Pictured Here: Christine, Mediatrice, and Rosine [from back to front] test villagers for HIV at a local school.)

The October Post: Let's see what I got for ya this month...

I got my kitchen roof fixed...that's all done and paid for. The new one is holding up just fine.

Oh yeah! I wanted to mention something else regarding cultural norms about alcohol. Specifically, Rwandans have a big fear about being poisoned; all drinks (alcoholic or not) are opened in front of you to prove that nothing was put in the bottle. This is not news to me, really. I remember being in college and people telling me not to consume drinks that I didn't pour myself or that haven't been in my possession the entire night. In Rwanda, they are really serious about this...REALLY serious.

I have a friend at the health center I work at and her mother passed away about two months ago. Her death was drawn-out and painful; she was barely taking in any water and she was not eating at all. The community and her family (even her daughter, my friend and a lab tech at the health center) were convinced that a jealous neighbor poisoned her. They took her to hospitals in Kigali and Rwamagana, but the medical staff couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. It wasn't malaria, or T.B., or advanced AIDS, or anything else for which they tested her. The only conclusion people could come up with was that she was poisoned. (I don't know what the doctors said specifically; however, I had a pretty strong pulse on the community's perspective and they were were saying 'poison, poison, poison.')

What seemed to have complicated her treatment program (from my perspective) was that, according to the community, she had a specific poison that led to instant death if she was hooked up to an I.V.; so, she never got an I.V. Moreover, I know she was taking medicaion from the doctors she visited, but she was also taking medication from a local medicine man. I asked my friend what was in the drugs the medicine man was giving to her mother and she didn't know. I insisted that we find out; my friend's reply was that, 'he'll never share his secrets.' I tried another angle; I suggested we try to figure out who might have poisoned her. If we know the person who might have done this, we could figure out what poison was used. Depending on the poison, maybe we could alter her treatment to counter its effects somehow. My friend's response was that, 'we'll never know who it was for sure.'

My friend's mother passed away at the hospital in Rwamagana...she was 46 years old. (I didn't know the funeral was that same day, so I was unable to participate.)

9. Do NOT accept a bottle that has not been opened in front of you AND be sure to keep the bottle close to you as you consume its contents.

What are some other things that happened? Oh yeah! So, the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) for Rwanda was at a medical conference in Thailand and she was having a discussion with a representative from the US ARMY (I think it was the US ARMY; it was definitely one of the branches of the US armed forces) and, naturally, the topic of tropical bugs and illnesses came up. Well, she mentioned my experience with jiggers and the representative was very interested in having the photos she took of my feet; the rep wanted to have them on file to teach new recruits about local ailments and such. Anyway, the PCMO asked me if the rep could have the pics and I said yes, of course. I wish I had taken pictures myself, but it was just so gross. Maybe I'll get the ones that the PCMO took and post them so you can take a look.

Let's see...what else...what else...

Well, we have more volunteers in Rwanda as of this month. We have about 35 'newbies' and they are being trained to be English teachers. I was able to spend some time with them in Kigali when they first arrived. They seem very nice and they are very excited to be in Rwanda. I am sure they will be successful in Pre-Service Training (PST) and go on to be great volunteers; heck, about fifteen (15) of them are volunteers from Mauritania, so they have played this game before.

Wait.
Volunteers from Mauritania? What?
Let me explain.

Sometimes a country that has Peace Corps volunteers becomes a little too unsafe; so, Peace Corps pulls out. When Peace Corps pulls out of a country, the volunteers in that country are given a choice to complete their COS (Close of Service) or continue their tour of service at a post in another country. Well, Mauritania (a rather large country in Northwestern Africa) closed about two months ago and fifteen (15) of this country's PC volunteers decided to continue their service in Rwanda.

In other news, the remaining Peace Corps Rwanda volunteers that I graduated with are organizing a bunch of different projects. Jessica is spearheading the 'Books for Africa' campaign which is doing really well. A handful of the other volunteers have been working hard at coordinating a G.L.O.W. (Girls Leading Our World) camp to empower Rwandan young women (high school aged). I am helping them with what I can, but I have decided not to take any serious leadership roles in these awesome projects. Things in my village are just too busy for me to be of any real help to my PC cohort.

Two weeks ago there was a national campaign for vaccinating children. The nurses at my health center were divided among the various make-shift health posts throughout my community; they spent the entire day vaccinating children and updating the childrens' growth charts. Because some of the nurses were spread throughout the villages working with the community health workers to get these kids vaccinated, the staff at the health center was nearly cut in half. I decided I would be of better use if I stayed at the health center and helped counsel patients - my standard 7am to 5pm day.

These next few weeks are going to be pretty busy too. Just a few days ago, the health center began visiting different village 'health posts' in my community to test people for HIV. (I don't know if this is a national campaign or just something the health center came up with on its own; I forgot to ask.) I have been put into the 'HIV Testing Mobile Unit' weekly rotation with the nurses to help record data and do some counseling; so, I will be doing that once a week for the next two weeks.

My first 'HIV Testing Mobile Unit' rotation was actually Tuesday of this week and it was...interesting. The nurses and I got a late start to the testing site because we had guests in the morning, so the staff meeting went a little long. Anyway, once we got to the site, we were able to test 107 people. That part of the experience was really cool...people wanted to be tested, which was good. After we analyzed the results, however, I became very...well...sad. Eighteen (18) of the 107 people tested were positive. (I wish I could tell you statistics like these are uncommon in my area.) We registered them in our counseling program and got them started on ARVs.

I do wish I had brought my camera to get some photos of the nurses working hard, but I suppose I can do that next week.

Anyway, that has been my month or so...

Man, I just read through this and I was wrong...a lot has happened over this month...(*side note: my stupid 'Check Spelling' application on the blog won't work for some reason so this entry is probably full of spelling mistakes and gramatical errors. Meh.)

Okay, I got a funny story (well, sorta funny) that I can close with. Kara, Brandon, and I were coming back from Kigali a few months ago; we had a meeting or something, I can't remember. Well, we got into the matatu (a swahili word used to refer to the taxi-vans) and Kara and Brandon took seats near the front. I sat in the back. (I like the back...right next to a window...its great...I don't have a good reason for this, I just like it.) The seat I had was in between these two big guys sitting next to a third big guy...I mean big. Behind our seat were bags of someone's goods...you know, bananas and stuff like that. Needless to say, we were cramped. I mean we were shoulder to shoulder, which is pretty standard seating when a person is sitting in a matatu, but I was being crushed between these guys. Anyway, instead of sitting with my shoulders up to my ears and burying my chin into my chest for the whole trip, I decided I would put my right arm behind the seat to give me more shoulder room.

About fifty minutes passed and most of the ride to Rwamagana from Kigali was finished. At that point I was looking out the window to my left and my right hand was casually toying with the bags behind the seat. All of a sudden, I felt a horrible pain in my hand.

I haven't been stung by a bee since I was in gradeschool. Well, the streak is over, baby. I never saw the bee that did it, but it stung like a dirty *expletive deleted*! Well, I was so shocked by the sudden surge of pain in my hand (which quickly shot up my wrist) that I brought my arm up without thinking. This reflexive action was executed in no careful manner; I swung my arm up so quick and with so much force that I totally slapped the guy next to me in the back of the head! (Ah! Sorry! Sorry!) Now I know why we were trained in Kinyarwanda! I was able to talk my way out of the physical beating that I was about to encounter as a result of this inadvertent provocation; not that I had practiced this scenario in training or anything. He was actually really cool about it; he seemed to understand that when a big ol' African bee stings you, it freakin' hurts!

A Mighty Wind

(Not Pictured Here: The roof to my kitchen/storage unit!)

Two weeks ago I received a phone call from Malcolm, a PCV stationed in Kigali. He asked me if I wanted to go with him and Taylor, another PCV, to a party in Cyangugu. I was very hesitant to go. I wasn't worried that Cyangugu was an hour away from the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) or that I would literally have to ride through a rain forest to get there; I was worried about the distance I would have to travel from my village.

I live in the East and Cyangugu is at the far Southwestern tip of the country. Rwanda isn't that big, I know, but I knew that if I went, I would be spending the better part of a day in a crowded car or bus. Moreover, I heard that traveling through the rain forest is a rough ride and makes people carsick; PCVs from the West have told me many stories about people vomiting all over each other. Needless to say, I was having my doubts about going. Malcolm did counter all my expressed reservations with the 'you only live once' card. (In the game of traveling, this is a trump card.) I quickly changed my mind and agreed to meet Malcolm and Taylor in Kigali to take a bus together to Cyangugu.

The ride was very long, but it was very scenic. I was 100% correct about what was going to happen; someone threw up. It was gross; I'll spare you the details but Taylor and Malcolm were sitting right next to the girl when it happened. I don't believe anyone was 'hit' in the ordeal, but it was pretty gross. ALSO I was 100% right about spending the entire day in a crowded car/bus. By the time we arrived at the party, I personally had spent TWELVE HOURS in transit. The trip was fun, though. We stopped at this one place that sold street meat, corn on the cob, peanuts, and bunch of other things. I had a little of everything; it was great.

The party was being held by an NGO (NGO = I will give them some anonymity here); a bunch of other PCVs from Rwanda were invited. These NGO people were the best hosts and hostesses in the world. They knew that their headquarters was a bit out of the way from our arrival spot, so they actually drove out of their way to come pick us up so we didn't have to hire a taxi. All we had to do was call when we got off the bus; we did so and they told us it would be thirty (30) minutes or so before they got to us. With that amount of time on our hands, we all agreed we could go to a 'bar' and have a beer.

I have learned many things about ordering alcohol in rural Rwanda. For example:

1. Only men are allowed to drink in public. A woman can drink alcohol in public; however, if she does it often she will develop a very bad reputation...specifically, she will be seen as a prostitute.

2. Children aren't suppose to drink alcohol, but they do; I have stumbled across a few drunk grade school students once or twice. They are not served in any of the bars, but who is to stop them from drinking at home, where there are gallons and gallons of homemade banana beer.

3. Children cannot be served in a 'bar,' but they can work there. Heck, if it is a family owned bar (and most of them are), they are expected to work there. When I mean work, I mean work: taking orders, closing tabs, and managing the place when the parents are out running errands.

4. There are really only two comercial domestic beers in Rwanda: Primus and Mutzig. I really don' care for either one, so I hardly drink anymore. There are many foreign beers, but they are expensive.

5. Beers come in 'small' and 'big' sizes. The 'small' size is what you generally see in America. The 'big' size is about 40 oz. The 'big' size is really the 'normal' size here. If you order a beer and don't specifically say 'small' or 'big,' they bring the 40 oz one out. If you order a foreign beer, which only comes in 'small,' they will assume you want the amount comparable to a 'big' beer and bring out two 'smalls.' I have ordered an Amstel many times and have been brought two; I always forget to say one only.

6. Ordering an orange Fanta is pretty much telling the entire room that you are a virgin. Apparently, Orange Fanta = Virginity. Naturally, orange is the best flavor in the world, so I have had to endure many jokes because of my taste for this delicious beverage.

7. If you are ordering hard liquor, be prepared to buy the entire bottle. No shots served here, baby; bottle service only.

These are really the big seven cultural notes I have made regarding alcohol.

Okay, back to the story...and the eighth lesson I have learned about Rwandan cultural practices pertaining to alcohol consumption.

So Malcolm and I are drinking a 40 oz Primus each and Taylor is drinking a Fanta. We are enjoying being on solid ground and not being around people about the throw up...just waiting for our ride. We figure we have got twenty (20) minutes to down our drinks before our ride comes. WRONG! Our ride pulls up almost immediately after we order! Apparently, our arrival was anticipated and our ride left before we called.

At this point, it was pretty easy for Taylor to finish her Fanta, but Malcolm and I each still had to finish much of a beer that we didn't really enjoy. No words were said; Malcolm and I just looked at each other and began chugging our beers like college Freshmen. BIG MISTAKE! The crowd in and around the bar began to make noises of disapproval and shook their heads with disgrace. One elderly man even began to lecture Malcolm, thinking he was Rwandan, in Kinyarwanda about how chugging beer in public is bad form. We said our awkward apologies, gave our bottles to the disgruntled barkeeper, and jumped into the truck that had been waiting for us to finish.

8. Under no circumstances is one allowed to chug a beer in public!

Anyway...

The party was great. The hosts gave us a place to stay and a ton of good food; they had a movie projector and a ping-pong table; they even had a dog AND puppies. I know this may not sound like big news, but Rwanda has almost NO dogs...NONE...I see no dogs as pets and no stray dogs at all. My dad raises and breeds Beagles for hunting and various gaming competitions, so the Reeb house has always had at least one dog since I could remember. It was weird to be in the presence of 'man's best friend' having not been around one for almost eight (8) months.

At any rate, I cannot rave enough about how well our hosts received us; seriously, it was good stuff. We had a dance party the night we arrived, they took us to a private beach on Lake Kivu the next day, we went swimming...and the food...my goodness the food! Good times. Good times.

When the party finished on Sunday (it was a long party, baby) we all left for site. Malcolm, Taylor and I traveled together and experienced yet another person throwing up...gross. I was the farthest away from Cyangugu and it took me all day to get back to Rwamagana city...I spent the night in the city and returned to my village Monday morning.

Upon returning home Monday morning, I noticed that everything was in the order I had left it; everything was just fine. I decided to take it easy that morning and not go into work right away. I just wanted to unpack, eat, and read a little bit. I did all three; it was great.

The weather was normal. It was great reading weather for me, actually. I get this cross breeze when I leave my windows open and I always keep my doors blinded with this light colored sheet, so during the day my house has this soft, sleepy light. It is really relaxing in the late mornings and early afternoons, especially after eating a big meal. I take a nap at least one hour every day after lunch, in fact. On top of the eight (8) to nine (9) hours of sleep I get every night, I would say that I am becoming very well rested here.

At any rate, I was relaxing and about to nod off when a mighty wind blew through the streets of my village. This wind shook the entire house! It caused so much noise! For a minute, I thought a huge truck had had some kind of speeding accident. I looked out my window and saw nothing out of the ordinary; so, I started reading again and fell asleep.

About an hour later (around 12:30pm) I woke up and walked outside to use the restroom. The first thing I saw was a man on my neighbor's roof. Then I looked at the roof next to it...my kitchen/storage unit roof. It was gone! Flat out disappeared, man! For a very brief moment I had this ridiculous idea that someone had took my roof. I was going to call out to the man working on my neighbor's roof, but I stopped myself from making any kind of scene. I looked over my fence and realized that a small crowd was hanging out by the well, waiting for me to come out of my house; they wanted to see how I'd react; we Americans, after all, are very loud, dramatic, and pushy.

I tried to look natural as I started looking around for...my roof. I couldn't find it. Ha! I got changed and began walking to my landlord's house to tell him about the situation. Well, as soon as I walked outside my gate, there he was talking to the neighbor whose house on which my roof had landed. Apparently the mighty wind had taken my roof to the house just next to mine; that's where all the noise had come from.

Within a week, the roof was fixed; you can see the pictures on my facebook page. At the end of the week, my landlord told me the new roof, the repairs to the neighbor's house, and the addition to the bathroom roof, cost a total of 109,000 Rwandan Francs (just under $200.00 American dollars). He asked if Peace Corps could help with some of the cost; Peace Corps agreed. So this past week I have been trying to arrange a meeting with him to negotiate the amount of help Peace Corps is willing to provide.

Arranging a meeting has been pretty difficult, however; thus, this situation has yet to be formally resolved. My landlord doesn't speak English very well and I don't know enough Kinyarwanda or French to negotiate landscaping fees and charges. So, I asked Jean-Marie, a good friend of mine at the health center, to help me translate. He agreed...for the price of two Mutzig beers, which I readily bought for him...and he readily drank...I still have yet to sit down with my landlord, however. Whenever I am free, he is not; whenever he is free, Jean-Marie is not. I am pretty much ready to this thing at any time, but the other two parties appear to have strongly conflicting schedules. Meh...it'll all work out...it always does.

Rusumo Falls and Wednesday

(Pictured here: Rusumo Falls)

Rusumo Falls was very cool. A few PCVs (Brandon, Tom, Malea, and Anna) and I decided to take a day trip to the Rwanda/Tanzania border (Rusumo) to check it out a few weeks ago. We couldn't cross into Tanzania because Peace Corps has very strict regulations regarding crossing borders; we needed clearance weeks in advance in order to step into Tanzania. Anyway, I posted a few pics on facebook...check 'em out.

In other news, the Director of Peace Corps Rwanda has asked each of us to write a story for the Peace Corps publication 'A Life Inspired,' a collection of short stories written by volunteers in the field. I have been trying to get something to him these past couple of weeks, but I am not happy with my drafts. I write something out, I edit it, and I am just not happy with what I produce. It would really be cool to have a story in this widely disseminated text, but I don't like anything I write. Maybe I will submit an old blog post...I dunno...I'll keep you posted. (I have been doing a lot of writing these past few months and, let me tell ya, I have a much deeper appreciation for writers and their craft!)

The classes are going well, though attendance is shrinking. I think my newness in the community is wearing off...*sigh*. On the plus side, I am getting along with my community members well and I am having to explain my presence less and less, which is okay with me. I have been giving my welcoming speech since April; I have had that thing memorized since May...in Kinyarwanda!

*Maybe I should post two blog entries, but its easier for me to publish them as one.*

I heard about gacaca in training. Gacaca is the community-based court that was used in pre-colonial days and has recently been reinstated to process cases and trials concerning the genocide of 1994; the courts also hear the cases of people that are accused of minor offenses. There were so many offenders during those 100 days in 1994 that it would take a few high courts a lifetime to convict everyone that was involved. In response to this problem, the government revived the traditional community courts throughout the sectors to convict and assign punishment to perpetrators, thus speeding up the judicial process.

The gacaca court for my sector is generally held at the sector headquarters every Wednesday. These past few weeks, however, the court location has changed to the health center's front lawn. That means every Wednesday I get to see five (5) to eight (8) different court cases. When I say see, I really mean see...ONLY. I NEVER approach the open-air court proceedings any closer than I have to and I do NOT ask about what is going on during the trials; I keep my distance as much as possible.

Generally these proceedings begin in the afternoon and finish in the early evening; they are attended by the judges (4 or 5), the accused (5-8), the witnesses (varying in number), and community members (also varying in number). The stores remain closed Wednesday mornings to recognize the importance of the trials to be held that afternoon, but the crowd of community onlookers is never very big. The court cannot give out extremely harsh punishments, like death, but they do give out long prison terms and such.

(This style of judgment, gacaca, has its defenders and criticizers. I will not get into the philosophical discussion, but one of the defenders' arguments for this style of court and punishment distribution is that most everyone accused of taking part in 1994 will have had their case heard and, if guilty, will have served some sort of punishment for their crime. The officials in my sector say they will be finished with all local gacaca cases regarding the crimes of 1994 very soon.)

This last Wednesday was different than other Wednesdays, however. The crowd was rather large and instead of five (5) to eight (8) cases being heard, there was only one (1). When the trial started in the afternoon, I could tell it was important because a hush had fallen over the staff of the health center, which is usually loud and active regardless of what is going on. Nurses quietly treated patients, then went back to their office windows to watch the proceedings.

Curiosity slowly sunk in its fangs...I had to know what was going on, though I had a pretty strong hunch. I walked up to five nurses watching the case unfold from the window of the insurance office, the best office in the health center to hear and see the event. In a very hushed voice I asked the group what was going on. In broken English they revealed the story of the man whose case was being heard. Apparently he was one of the worst perpetrators in my sector during the 100 days of suffering in 1994. He confessed to his crimes and had been in custody at a local jail awaiting his trial. I will spare you the details of the trial...for many reasons. I will admit that I almost cried while the nurses were translating the testimony of the witnesses and the confessions of the criminal.

The trial went much later than normal. The nurses told me it was because of the amount of offenses committed...over 100...the accused said he lost count at 100. *slowly shaking my head* The judges needed more time to process the testimonies and confessions and agree upon the punishment. The judges were considering the strictest punishment a gacaca court was authorized to give...life imprisonment.

I didn't stay for the ruling. I didn't ask about it the next day. I didn't pry to find out more about the court system and its history. That is not to say I was not curious, but it wasn't the time nor the place to ask. What I do know is that I didn't recognize him; I never recognize the people that are on trial and nobody ever talks about them specifically, like they know them.

I know how this must read; not very uplifting. I had to mention this, though. It was an important day for my community; I had to write something about it.