First Impressions of my New Home (Pictures to come soon)

It was close to thirty-two hours of travel, with very little sleep, and lots of interesting characters. We had a man dressed in complete cameo proselytizing about religion, and going window to window with binoculars peering out the airplane window. I sat next to man who worked in the Congo with the UN, a woman who had just finished fighting the Norwegian flu, and many missionaries. Brussels airlines provided me with mini bottles of wine, and a dreary selection of movie options. Apart from the tiring travel, I arrived in Rwanda all in once piece.

Starting Tuesday we had orientation in Kigali. The orientation began by busing us to the city center so that in 21^st century fashion we could all buy cell phones like they were another appendage. After long days of reviewing overwhelming syllabuses and practicing Kinderwanda we all realized that this semester is going to be a tough one. Each day we have class from 9am until 3pm, but on top of that we have large amounts of reading, writing, researching, presentations host family time and more. Although it is going to considerable work I look forward to being academically challenged and learning in a very hands on approach. After we all passed the drop-off  portion of the orientation, we graduated and were able to meet our host families. The drop-off is just how it sounds, without any prior knowledge of the city, bus system or layout we are dropped off at an undisclosed location in pairs of two. Our responsibility is to first research a topic we are assigned and second to navigate back to the office. There is no better way to learn then to be lost, after trial and error we made it back to the office and were passed onto our host families.

Each family is selected through an English speaking boarding school, and the family has at least one child attending full time. My father is a diplomat with the government, who is a big man with a commanding presence. Aside from pleasantries I know very little about his job, because he appears to be what I would call a workaholic. Working every day of the week (including Saturday and Sunday) until nine at night. My mother is a gorgeous woman, always presenting herself in gorgeous two-piece fabric ensembles and a large smile. Most of my time has been spent with my siblings. I share bunk beds with my sister Joyce, who is my age and studying tourism. Her English is incredible, and she has taught me how to cook on a charcoal stove; the beans taste better prepared over fire but the trade off is the copious amounts of mosquito bites I acquired.  I have spent my Sunday learning to wash my clothes with a series of buckets and with my sister’s valuable advice of how best to bend my back (I am not nearly flexible enough), vigorously rub the clothes together to create suds and mimic a washing machine, and then rinse them properly. The only thing I am missing are my bucket shower skills, I will either become a master, or have some questionable hygiene in the next three months. My laundry lesson was followed by a cooking lesson and finished when I was given a walking tour of the city. I learned with the correct series of taps required to make the bus stop near to my house. I am feeling confident that I will be able to navigate the city within no time.

It is hard to express the beauty of Rwanda in a few words. Before I left people told me that all poverty is relative and even Rwanda would surprise me compared to Latin America. Rwanda is the cleanest, most quickly developing, gorgeous city I have seen in all my travels. So far there are no cows wondering the street, or garbage lining the gutters. There are rules and people follow them, motorcyclists wear helmets, buses decline people when they have reached capacity, and stop in designated places. The food is delicious, very much starch based but very delicious. I feel safer wondering around Kigali at night then I do San Francisco. There are incredibly low rates of crime and violence and everyone is willing to offer a helping hand. Speaking of hands, the biggest surprise to me so far has been watching men hold hands. For a country that is very homophobic men have no qualms about physical touch. There is nothing more rewarding then watching two businessmen, police, or students holding hands and cuddling while wondering the streets of Rwanda.

So far I feel that I have abstained from any major cultural faux pas, and have quickly settled into my new life in Rwanda. I know the next weeks will fly by, and I will indeed make mistakes, have major misunderstandings and of course embarrassing stories which I can sure.