Dirt!

Where I once used to dread returning home, I was very happy to return to Nyanza after a weekend in Kigali. Orientation took place in Kigali and those first few weeks I was so happy with the price of anything. I thought it was so cheap, now I am scandalized by the prices in the capital. I almost went in to debt in just three days! Which isn’t hard when you are only making two hundred dollars a month and the ministry, which is paying half of that, just hasn’t really gotten around to making the payment yet! So anyway, I gave in to my Spaghetti Bolognese craving and ate so much over two days that I think I gained about ten pounds. Not a problem though considering my eating problems in Kabarore had me looking pretty gaunt. Also my hair isn’t falling out in clumps anymore and I don’t sleep all day. Basically I am coming back to life. Man I sound like a wreck, I’m really doing great I promise.
It seems like every person has a different explanation for whether or not it is the rainy season yet. I have come to the conclusion though, that the seasons are definitely changing. On Sunday, when I was heading back home, it literally poured. Not poured in the sense we think of where it just rains hard, but the sky actually opens and a wall of water falls from it for about an hour. It’s the most intense rain I have ever experienced and it makes things REALLY difficult on dirt roads. I had to walk about half a mile on a dirt road in my Rainbows (flip flops) and it took me close to an hour. Every step was such an effort and by the time I reached the pavement my feet were completely covered in dirt. For being a very moist and dirt centered country Rwandese are so conscious of the presence of it. Everyone just stared at my feet for the next two hours but I really didn’t have any way of washing them, so when I got to Nyanza the first thing Yves and Adrien said to me was, “oh! My god. What is this? Why do you walk around like this? You are very dirty. My god.” I responded, “Alright. Good to see you guys too.”
There is a lot of dirt in Rwanda but Rwanda is not at all dirty. I would argue that there is much less trash on the streets than even the most developed countries. And not because there are crazy fines for littering, Rwandese just take a lot of pride in their country. While this is really great, it makes disposing of garbage extremely puzzling. Obviously there is no garbage service and in Kabarore I used to give my garbage to the houseboy to burn but here I am going sans houseboy. So what am I supposed to do with it? Everyone else’s just seems to disappear. So I brought my bag of garbage to school and the bursar looked pretty offended and refused to take it. Ugh awkward! She told me it would be better to just give it to a boy and tell him ingarani which is Kinyarwanda for garbage and give him fifty francs. I was all prepared to do this, and praying I would ask someone’s houseboy and not totally offend someone. How am I supposed to know who’s who? The street children who loiter near my house happened to be around when I returned home and I tentatively said inngaaaaraaani? To this, they literally rushed me grabbing the bag and sprinting away. I’m not really sure where they went or what they did with it and I didn’t even get the chance to pay them. Now they sit outside of my house yelling ingarani which is getting old but they are such cute little kids I can’t shoo them away.
Everyday when I walk to school I have to walk past two primary schools. Sometimes I love this and sometimes I hate it. Invariably the first kid who sees me starts yelling Mzungu and then all the other students stop what they are doing and start yelling Good Morning! It doesn’t matter what time of day it is they always say Good Morning, so does everyone so I am trying to introduce the idea of Good Afternoon and Good Evening to the population of Nyanza! Anyway, sometimes the kids are really cute and just want hugs but other times there is some little brat who starts the whole “give me your money!” (Did I mention there is no word for please in Kinyarwanda) and to this all the other otherwise adorable kids start chanting with him. Before you think I am too harsh it is important to note that even though school is free for the first nine years, the poorest families keep their children home to help around the house. Begging is definitely learned and I would love to know who taught them “give me your money” when they can barely say “What is your name?”. Anyway the other day I was fed up and I turned around and said to about fifty ten year-olds OYA! Which means no. They all stood in shock for a second and then turned and ran in the other direction. I don’t think those kids say Good morning to me anymore!
The students at my school are great. I really love my English classes and I’m warming up to the Computer courses although teaching ICT on a chalkboard presents a range of problems, also going to the computer lab with eight working computers and 55 students eager to look up Akon on the internet gets really out of hand. I’m working on it though. Also, trying to teach creativity in English is humorous at best. I taught a lesson on Comparative and Superlative adjectives and then asked the students to write a story incorporating two of each and five of the vocabulary words for the week. When talking about the story I said they could write about anything, a window through which they can see the future, their pet elephant with eight legs, or their trip to Uganda. Anything! When I graded the stories I got a few stories about the window, a few more about the elephant, and then the rest about their trip to Uganda. O well better luck next time. One student in particular was very interested in reading his story aloud. Today, when I allowed this he began to read a completely different story then the one I had graded. He began, “ I want to tell a story about the most beautiful teacher that ever lived from America. She is teaching me American English and I like the way she moves.” I was mortified. I interrupted him midsentence and said Thank you have a seat and then we had a little discussion after class.
Alright I’m all anecdoted out. I had a great birthday. Thank you to everyone who sent me cards, Shira brought them to me when we celebrated in Butare on the weekend. Also, if anyone sent me packages to Matimba, don’t worry Shira is stranded there so she can get them for me. When you eat really good food think of me!