Learning is Never Easy

26 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 10

My birthday was yesterday and I almost forgot. Rachel woke me up with her well wishing. Our director Kate gave me a ride in her Rav 4 with the steering wheel on the wrong side up the steep incline of Tankhill, the road that we walk to class twice a day. Everyone in the house told me happy birthday, and it was written on the whiteboard that displays the daily announcements. So I remembered. I found that I can distract myself during our long class hours filled mostly with lectures on how Africans are related and culture changes by focusing on work that I find more important, like writing a new Odyssey proposal for Eastern Europe (see bottom of post), or my CV for my internship at the Rwanda Development Board.

After class, like most days, we went to the fitness club/restaurant/”café” next door and complained to one another about certain individuals who often times offend our sense of intelligence and our desire for higher education. I’ve always found it frustrating to be around individuals who have little or no desire to escape their ill-founded worldview. It is a challenge that I often find myself struggling with. I’m not a nice person when I’m put into this situation and I’m not at all sure how I feel about that. One person in our class consistently asserts that people should be able to do whatever they will and do not deserve to be critiqued for it, and she is especially adamant about this fact in the context of literature. Ironic as this may seem, it is even more ironic that she is a staunch Christian; every time her gaze lands on me, the feeling of judgment becomes palpable. Regardless, I have come here to learn, not particularly from my classes or my fellow students, but from my surroundings, and from the people that I meet and the experiences that I have.

We went to a traditional dance performance put on by the Nderi tribe (pictures on Facebook). The vibrant colors and smiling faces lift the spirit. The musicianship wasn’t perfect, and neither were the dances, but what I’m learning here is that perfection can be a vice. I heard a proverb the other day that told the story of a man who was the best trapper in his village. He was known throughout the land as the most skillful, and experienced in his field. Partly, his ability was due to his desire for perfection and how unrelenting he had become in this ambition. One day he decided to build the perfect trap, a trap that only he could undo, and that no animal could escape from. So he built this trap, with all the perfection he could muster. He was meticulous and precise and he accomplished his goal. After he had finished, he stood back to look at the trap that he had built, but in his perfectionism, he noticed one small strand of rope that was out of place. As he went to fix this small problem, he became caught in the trap. He yelled and shouted and attracted a great crowd of people, but no one could get him out of the trap. And now we all know the fate of the perfectionist. This proverb struck a chord within me. As someone who values my work and strives for perfection no matter the cost to my relationships, or myself it’s often hard to see the faults in my system. Pulling all nighters, becoming frantically meticulous, what is the cost-benefit analysis? I know my passion is meaningful and I do not expect that I will soon give up on my ambitions. But there is something relaxing about this culture. They walk slower and I envy that. I do not see myself becoming less of a perfectionist, or less ambitious, but I am now aware of another one of my vices. I think awareness is a powerful tool. Perhaps awareness is an end unto itself. I think the experience is all there is to it. The dancers were beautiful and happy and their imperfections were meaningless. Perfection was not the goal. Near the end of the performance the MC called up an Englishman named Martin, it was his birthday. After holding an awkward conversation with him for 5 minutes or so, he asked who else’s birthday it was, and having the great friends that I do, everyone pointed and yelled at me. The MC promptly came over to retrieve me from my seat to which I had firmly stationed myself. He called up other people whose birthday it was, those who had a birthday that week, that month, and soon the stage was full of about 15 people. The musicians began to play and the MC invited everyone to the stage to dance. With my best friends by my side, along with new friends from the past week, I felt what it all meant: to the dance, to be a part of a culture, to show that to others. It wasn’t about perfection or being meticulous, it was about community, about love, and about personality and tradition. There were people from all over the world on the stage, India, Vietnam, America, England, Holland, Uganda, and we all danced in our own awkward way. But in that moment, I think we knew something about one another. That was the best birthday present I could have received.

I bought a chicken on Saturday. Her name is Janet Museveni, and yes, she is a live chicken. We went on a tour of Kampala, including the Saturday market, locally named Owino. Getting off of the mutatu (van taxi), we immediately entered into the chaos of Kampala. The streets, generally covered in dust and garbage, were covered with mud and garbage. The abhorrent smell of smog and the excretion of the city were now accompanied by fresh meat, Ugandan cooking, and the dense concentration of people selling anything from used clothes from America to electronics from China. In the midst of it all, it’s actually easy to find beauty. The aged women hunched over stew pots stir their own mixes of vegetables, nuts, and meats. Men ride bicycles heavily laden with 15 foot steel bars or their large inventory of shoes. Rows of grinders growl as they turn peanuts into paste. Sewing machines whir as women mend and produce dresses and shirts from the fabric their daughters have sold to muzungus who want a souvenir. All this beauty, though, is surrounded by the most utter sadness: small children no older than 4 sit alone on the roadside, their hands extended in hopes of receiving the equivalent of $0.10. Piles of rotting fruit and shit are swept into dumpsters by dozens of women and men. There is also frustration: the constant yelling and hand grabbing, “You are welcome,” meaning “Come and buy something from me.” Taxi drivers tell us that is cost 20,000 UGsh to get home, when in reality it costs 4,800. The girls get marriage proposals. It is an overwhelming experience full of so much life and vibrancy. I don’t know if I could get it anywhere else. Of course there are negatives to life in another country, in another culture. But I’ve come to learn that I must accept those along with everything else. Learning is never easy.

Odyssey Proposal for Eastern Europe (let me know what you think):

Remembering History:

Memorials of Conflict, Reconciliation, Justice, and Retribution

History tells the story of conflict and reconciliation again and again. A conflict tears a people apart. At the end of it all, we must find a way to rebuild, to live in peace, to forgive, to remember, to change. Reconciliation poses many questions. There are many variations to this story, and many different answers. How do we heal from conflict? What is the role of justice and retribution? How do peoples, political parties, and nations rebuild after tragedy? Most especially, how is history remembered, and how does that memorial reflect the story of conflict and reconciliation? We are often told that the victors tell the story of conflict. Is this universally true? How is history truly remembered? I am currently studying abroad in Rwanda, a country that less than 20 years ago was engulfed in one of the most horrific and catastrophic conflicts the world has ever seen. Today, this country continues to deal with reconciliation in a post-ethnic frame. I hope to explore the questions of reconciliation that exist here. I will travel to the Kigali Genocide Memorial as well as the church at Nyamata. Both of these locations memorialize the genocide and its victims in ways that are unique to the people and the conflict. I will photograph the experience, and these photographs will each be accompanied by a written description, both personal and analytical. When I leave Rwanda in July I will travel to Eastern Europe. I will travel to Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Romania to several sites of the European transition out of communism from 1989 until 1994, commonly called the Velvet Revolutions. Each of these countries has a different story of conflict and reconciliation. Each country has a different memorial to remember that history and that reflects their story of reconciliation. In Hungary I will travel to Budapest, to Szoborpark or Memento Park. After the fall of communism in Hungary, the statues of the fallen leaders were put into Memento. How is Memento meant to memorialize these leaders? Are the Hungarian people putting these statues into the garden in order to remember, or to forget this history? Does Memento park give the Hungarian people a sense of justice and retribution? I hope to investigate the meaning of Memento park in the context of historical commemoration. I will then travel to Bratislava in Slovakia, to Hviezdoslav square, the site of the 1988 Candle Demonstration. This was the first mass demonstration against the communist party in what was Czechoslovakia. Hviezdoslav square is an important site in that it represents the first instantiation of dissent against the communist party in Czechoslovakia. What type of memorial does this represent? Is this site remembered for heroics? Does this memorial give justice to the demonstrators, and incite retribution on their oppressors? I will investigate, through word and image, how Hviezdoslav square serves to remember the Candle Demonstration and the transition out of communism in Slovakia. In the Czech Republic I will travel to Letna Park, the site of several anti-communist demonstrations, as well as the location of “Stalin’s monument.” Stalin’s monument is a large marble pedestal that once was the base of the world’s largest monument to the Soviet leader. The monument was destroyed in 1962, but the base remains. I find this to be an interesting site metaphorically. Though it was once the site of the largest memorial to the leader of the communist world, and perhaps the most oppressive of them all, it now serves as a memorial of the transition to democracy and freedom. Stalin’s monument, it seems, remembers the communist world under Stalin; but it also celebrates Stalin’s downfall. Finally, I will travel to Bucharest in Romania to Revolution Square. Revolution Square (named so after the 1989 revolution) was the site of both the beginning and end of Ceausescu’s regime. In 1968, a massive rally marked the height of Ceausescu’s popularity. Another in 1989 marked the end of the communist regime, and Ceausescu’s life. Revolution Square represents both the height of communism and its eventual downfall. How does Revolution Square serve to remember this history? That it is now named Revolution Square shows how this location perpetuates justice. All of these locations stand as symbols of a conflicted past. Each reflects a different answer to the questions posed by post-conflict reconciliation. As I travel to each location, I will document with photography and written descriptions. I will seek to understand the similarities and differences between Rwanda, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Romania and their experiences with conflict and reconciliation. As well, I will explore the issues of justice, retribution, and memorial. Are we able to see parallel’s within these histories? What do these memorials tell us about the human experience in itself? My use of both photographic and lingual interpretation will provide a visual, personal, and analytical frame within which I hope to convey both a particular understanding of each history, as well as a general understanding of the ways in which history is remembered in a global context. This project brings together artistic, historical, and intuitive methods of experiential learning. It exemplifies the spirit of engaged learning as it goes beyond the opportunities offered by any single course. This project will allow me to experience history in a non-traditional way as I approach these historical topics with artistic and interpretive methods. Therefore I will submit this proposal as a Special Project.