Exams started on Tuesday. No
matter how hard I try, they always catch me off guard by a week. The official start date for exams is October 27th. A Saturday. I guess I should’ve known
better.
It’s funny – I keep expecting things to be different because I’m
leaving, but nothing changes. Exams
caught me off guard by a week, the proctoring schedule hasn’t been written yet
even though we’re several days into it, and I keep getting stuck at school for
things like recording exam grades and filling out report cards. In a couple of weeks I’ll start getting rid
of my household effects – cookware, furniture, things I don’t intend to take
with me. Then I’ll get on a moto taxi and
leave. It’ll be just like any other
weekend trip to Kigali.
Except that I won’t come back.
Last week I visited the training site to take a language assessment and
meet some of the trainees. Rather
egotistically, I was anticipating all kinds of questions about service, but I
guess that’s what Volunteer Assistant Trainers are for. I only got asked one question. They wanted to know what it feels like to be
so close to finishing.
I said, “Exciting and scary.
Mostly scary.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m looking
forward to going home and seeing all my friends and family again, not to
mention all the hot showers I’ll take and all the cheese I’ll eat. I swear I’m going to put cheese on everything for awhile after I get back. It’s going to be fantastic. But the prospect
of re-integration into American society still freaks me out.
For those of you back home reading this blog, I figure I should make a
short list of things that intimidate me about America so you can help me out
when I get back. Or, you know, laugh
preemptively at my strangeness.
Whichever.
Fear #1: Overprotective Mothers
In the United States, mothers freak out when their kids run out into
traffic, stick metal objects into electrical sockets or wander away with total
strangers. Not so in Rwanda. It’s not that Rwandan parents are indifferent
to their children’s wellbeing – they just have different expectations. In Rwanda, parenting is a communal
thing. If a kid runs out into the
street, someone else will swoop in and rescue them from getting run over by a
bicycle. And if not – well, that kid won’t
run out in the street again anytime soon, will he? Getting hit by a bike hurts.
In my village, I’ve regularly gone on walks with other people’s kids,
picking them and carrying them for miles before re-depositing them where I
found them. I’d like to believe that I
won’t pull this stunt in America, but if I get arrested for kidnapping within a
month of returning home, you guys will know why.
Fear #2: Not Being Special
Rwanda is a tiny country with a remarkable degree of ethnic, linguistic
and cultural homogeneity. I’m an oddity
in the cities and a minor celebrity in my village. The fact that I speak Kinyarwanda makes me
even more so. When I say things, people
listen. When I ask for things, I usually
get them. And I always get VIP treatment
at weddings, ceremonies, baby showers and formal functions.
I hope that my temporary and underserved celebrity status hasn’t made
me a pain to be around. There’s no
telling until I get back home and try to function in my native culture, where I’m
effectively a nobody.
Fear #3: Smart Phones
True fact: I have never accessed the internet from a phone before. The last phone I used stateside had a plan for
calls and texting and that was about it.
I don’t even know what a smart phone is, much less how to use one – all I
know is that my friends back home miraculously have Facebook access everywhere
they go. I’m so intimidated by smart
phones, I considered Googling “smart phone” to see if it’s two words or one.
I’m going to need some serious help in this department.
Fear #4: Being Fat and Getting Even Fatter
Contrary to popular belief, a lot of PCVs actually gain weight during
service rather than losing it. This is
especially true in sub-Saharan Africa where the local diet consists of starchy
roots and tubers cooked in excessive amounts of palm oil. In Rwanda, a typical meal consists of three
or four fried starches, a little bit of fried meat, and if you’re lucky, a
small serving of veggies, also cooked in oil.
I exercise, I snack on fruit and I try my best to limit my portions
despite everyone’s well-meaning attempts to overfeed me, and I’ve still managed
to gain a shameful Peace Corps Fifteen.
I’m terrified that when I get off the plane, people will be like, “Seriously?
You got fat in Africa? What did you
do, eat your village?? Wow.”
Since I gained weight in Rwanda, I’d like to believe I’ll lose it
automatically went I get home, but I’ve been deprived of American food for two
years so that’s a feeble hope at best.
Like I said, I plan on putting cheese on everything. If you guys want
to get me a Christmas gift I’ll appreciate, maybe you should look into gym
memberships and hire me a personal trainer.
Fear #5: American English
There are days when I swear I forget my own language. It’s part of the reason I maintain a blog –
to keep thinking in complete sentences.
Granted I do teach my classes in English, but it’s not the English I
used to speak back home, it’s a weird hybrid of Rwandan-accented English,
Kinyarwanda/Swahili words and French.
What can I say? It’s the only “English”
my community understands.
Despite my best intentions, I
just know I’m going to get home and say something awkward. I have this recurring nightmare where I’m in
a restaurant and instead of asking for the check, I say, “You will bring the
facture, sawa?”
If I think of more of these, I’ll keep posting them. Trainees beware – two years from now, this is
what you’re in for.
