Home in Africa

13 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 7

I walked on American soil the other day. It wasn’t quite like being home.

I walked on British soil yesterday. It wasn’t quite like being in England, especially since we met with an overly precise Canadian woman. She told us about Dfid, the British version of USAID that has basically funded land reform in Rwanda.

The U.S. embassy in Rwanda is the largest embassy in all of Africa. I suppose America intended to make a statement. Maybe they intended to make a home. Like most buildings in Kigali, the embassy sits atop a hill. You can see the oversized American flag waving from far in the distance. Once we passed through the layers of security, we were able to talk with a few people from USAID, America’s department of international development. Inside the embassy, it seems less like a fortress and more like a contemporary art museum- traditional Rwandan baskets on the walls alongside extravagant quilts. The walls are off-white; the architecture is austere, yet stylish. The ambassador spoke to us on his way up the stairs as we sat in the lobby of the main atrium. I suppose there's something universal about Americans and loudness and friendliness.

Perhaps the most exciting aspect of our trip to the embassy was seeing the pictures of Barack, Joe, and Hillary prominently displayed at the entrance. There’s something uplifting about that reality. It made me think of the pictures that had been up for the previous 8 years, and how scary it must have been to see Dick staring back at you. Seeing those framed head shots made me feel proud to be back in America, technically speaking.

Being back onto American soil got me thinking about home, and my time abroad. My team left yesterday. I watched as Daniel, Amanda, and Ashley all went through the embarrassing motions of airport security. Martin dropped me off at the house where I will be staying during my time in Rwanda. I knocked anxiously on the thick metal of the gate to the Go-Ed house and was let in by someone who didn't speak English. They must have been expecting me because they let me in.

Now I am on Rwanda soil. Since I’ve been at the Go-Ed house, I have forgotten all of my early worries about what would await me here. The environment that I have found here is welcoming. Ida cooks for us, and she makes delicious food. Today she taught me, in broken English, how to use the laundry machine. Her young son lives here. I’m fairly sure he speaks no English. But his smile is enchanting. I think there’s something about the culture here that makes it acceptable to stare at white people. It’s usually awkward, but when Ida’s son does it I can’t help but smile. There are two dogs here, TJ and Bubbles. They must be Rwandan dogs, because they’re the calmest dogs I’ve ever met, but friendly. The view from the porch spans the tan houses of residential Kigali. I have sat there for most of the day, reading, writing, and drinking coffee. I still have many unanswered questions. But I can see myself growing already. I guess the future has just never been that intimidating to me.

I have been thinking about the typical abroad experience, the ones you hear about before you go abroad yourself- the homesickness and the culture shock. So far I haven’t felt any of that. Of course I miss my family and my friends, but I don't anticipate a personal crisis or shock of culture. I have only been here for less than two weeks, but I already sense something different about my experience. Traffic is nerve-wracking. Service in restaurants is excruciating. Even if people don’t understand you, they act as if they do, and then just bring you the wrong thing. People speak so quietly that it is often difficult to distinguish if they’re talking at all. No one understands my French. I don’t understand Rwandan French. Why do waiters have to be so meticulous about my place setting? Why can’t I carry my own ashtray to my table (in Daniel’s case)?

Rwandan culture is truly different from what I am accustomed to. But instead of being discouraged by these differences, I look for meaning in them. Studying Africa in books and then being here to live has been an amazing experience. Seeing the aspects of African culture that I have read about for the past two years gives them new meaning, a personal meaning. It’s as if I have studied Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture for years and now I’m living in Falling Water. It’s just cool. I don’t know how long it will take me to get used to it. Being here, of course, I am getting accustomed to certain aspects of society. I know how to function at the market. I know how to say “thank you.” And I know what to expect when I order pillipilli, bahjia, and mukeke. But there’s something about this culture, specifically Rwanda, that is perpetually stimulating. And I’m not trying to say that Europe is boring, or that students that go to Europe are non-adventurous. I want to go to Europe too. But for my passion, and my education, Africa is where I want to be, and it’s where I need to be. I study development, and political philosophy. In Rwanda my studies come to life. Questions of French complicity, democracy vs. authoritarian rule, post-conflict reconciliation, a distinct frame for development- all of these play a major role in Rwanda culture and politics. I am learning something here. I am learning something more than what I learn in my classes. I am experiencing a culture that is incomprehensibly different from my own. And this is real life. In a few short days, I have learned about what it is like to be a minority, however comical that may be. The word poverty now has new meaning to me. I realize that defining wealth in numbers is useless here.

I don’t know if I haven’t been here long enough, or if I’m somehow unique. I always hope for the latter. But I don’t see my excitement and intrigue for this part of the world going away soon. I still have too much to learn, and too many people to meet. I have yet to go white water rafting on the Nile, and I have yet to muster the courage to drink banana beer (they make it with water in the rural areas, and diarrheal diseases never sounded appealing). The heaviest of the rainy seasons has yet to come. I await it with anticipation. I look forward to the next 6 months, because, for some reason, I already feel at home in Africa.