mwirirwe

The end of the beginning?

2011-04-01T03:52:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday was my last day as a Peace Corps volunteer. I think that right now, I am considered a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, except that I'm not returned. Tom and I are currently inNepal taking a very much needed vacation for a few weeks, until we go back to America and start afresh. Rwanda, am going to miss you so much. The last few weeks have been exhausting, and it's going to take a while to work through all the emotions about Rwanda, my Peace Corps service, and myself. So, in the meantime, I try to think about this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson that our fantastic COS conference facilitator kept coming back to:

"The definition of success--To laugh much; to win respect of intelligent persons and the affections of children; to earn the approbation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give one's self; to leave the world a little better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm, and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived--this is to have succeeded."

Thanks for reading, and hopefully, I'll have some updates from Nepal soon.

My last sunset in Kigali

The Last Two Weeks: Saying Goodbye

2011-03-22T23:18:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream that I was talking to a friend who wanted to visit, and I said, “oh, we’ll be in Kibungo as much as possible for the last few weeks until we leave.” And I woke up with a start with the realization that I was leaving Kibungo tomorrow. Like, Thursday. And yes, I’ll be in the country for a little longer, going into Kigali for some things, but only for a few days. Its over.

Work: Last week, we officially opened the Gashanda Health Post. We had representatives from the local sector, the District, the radio station, and the church, plus people from the local community (including the whole primary school across the road, once they got out on lunch break). We had a dancing choir for entertainment, and a couple crates of fantas for the VIPs, and a good time was had by all. The Post is seeing more patients all the time, and has seem almost 500 people since opening its doors.

At this point, the main part of my work has been saying goodbye to people I have worked with. Today I’m having my last sewing session with the ladies at the local prison. Earlier this week, I had a party at the house for the association of sex workers I have been working with/hanging out with. Somehow, nothing ever quite worked out with actual programming, but I’m hoping to connect them with a small loan program once I’m gone. And at the very least, I gave them all my old clothes (weirdly, before I left America, I donated all my clothes to HIPs), and we had a nice time. It was hard saying goodbye to the women I’ve become close to in this group – they are some of my favorite people I’ve met in Rwanda, and the sources of my best conversations, held in my mutant Kinyarwanda. They have been generous, open, funny, and patient with me, and they don’t have phones or internet, so I have no idea how I’ll ever keep in touch with them. I am losing it as I write this.

Life: I’m not just saying goodbye to my Rwandan friends and coworkers, I’m saying goodbye to our Peace Corps family, and other expatriate friends. I know that Peace Corps frowns on this, maybe rightly so, but these relationships have been incredibly important to me throughout my time here. So, last weekend, my former colleague and current friend helped organize a hike that Tom has been talking about for months. The idea is that there is a hill called Agatwe Ka Musaza, or little head of the old man. All Rwandans tell us it’s a huge hill, with a rocky, boulder-strewn top. By the time we got there, we realized that we were driving along to the top of the hill, and the rocky nub at the top took approximately 5 minutes to climb, after 2 hours in the car. It was pretty though, and after we admired the view from the top (we could see Tanzania and Burundi quite clearly, but not the Virungas, as people told us), and the Ankole cattle grazing at the bottom, we continued on to Rusumo falls. At least got to climb up to a promontory, looking out over the falls into Tanzania again, over the rocky cliffs on either side of the Akagera river.

I guess these last two weeks have also been about saying goodbye to Rwanda itself, which as I’ve said before, is achingly beautiful. On the day of our 9-hour walk, we passed a little lake just a bit outside of town, and we had wanted to go back to spend more time there. Yesterday was our last chance, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed our into the valley, tramping around fields to find the right path to take us there. It took two hours to find it, a little lake surrounded by trees and full of water lilies. We managed to cut through the yards and fields around the lake and ate lunch on the shore, with only a little idle curiosity from the ladies doing laundry further down the banks. It was perfectly timed – we set out when it was still cool and misty, and by the time it got sunny, we were already sitting under an acacia tree. We finished and admired the dam on the other side, and the view of the miles and miles of rice paddies irrigated by the lake, and then headed back. The clouds got black and it did start to rain, but not for too long and we were prepared. We just got to see people leaving their fields for lunch, holding banana leaves over their heads as umbrellas. It took a little while to find the path that would get us out of the valley and back to the top of our hill. So, we walked through some fields, and then up the rocky slope through Eucalyptus trees, and when we got to the top, mud splattered and sweat stained, the first person we saw on the dirt road was a guy wearing spotless white pants and shoes.

Making things: In the last week, we’ve been going out to eat a lot, but baking tons of stuff as I work my way through my stash. Yesterday I made my grandma’s apricot bars again, with the last bag of dried fruit I bought in the US on my trip home last year. I’ve always meant to post pictures of exactly how I do the baking in the “Peace Corps Oven.” First you light a charcoal stove, then put a big empty pot on top and cover it. When it’s preheated, you put a tin can inside, and your baking dish on top of that, and cover the pot again. And then, you have baked goods in Africa.

No bake cookies that don't set up make perfectly good icing.

I’ve also been working with my ice cream maker – so far this week, mango sorbet, pistachio ice cream from instant pudding, and the kicker, Persian saffron and rosewater ice cream, from ingredients from a care package from a doctor who visited last year.

And so, this is it. My last blog entry from Kibungo. Even when I wasn’t living at this site, I would confuse people by calling it “home.” I’m not sure exactly what I’m feeling, because it doesn’t seem real. This week has nailed down Kinyarwanda words like, “to say goodbye,” “to miss,” and “forever.” People keep asking when we’re coming back. Sometimes people jump in and say “she’ll come back after she gives birth, and then she’ll bring the baby.” And I definitely believe that I’ll come back. Another PCV who has already gone home wrote that he didn’t fully comprehend that it was over until he saw the lights of his hometown. I think it’s going to feel like that.

Three weeks left: A roiling stew of emotions

2011-03-08T01:15:00.001-08:00

Did I say things were going slowly? I was wrong. Things have picked up here, by a lot. Last week Tom and I headed to Kigali for Peace Corps medical tests, which meant that we had a few days to relax, explore, and hang out with friends while waiting to get our TB tests read (negative, don’t worry). But that meant one shortened work week, plus we were both knocked out by a cold for a bit, so here we are, with just over two full weeks at our site. Three weeks from today is my last day as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Work: So, after inheriting craft supplies left over from Camps GLOW and BE, I’ve been learning how to make candles. Lots of cooperatives and individuals have beehives here in Rwanda, but mostly people throw away the wax as a useless byproduct. However, the few that do sell the wax for a fairly high price in the capital, and the few that make candles charge even more. So, I introduced to some colleagues at the Anglican church, and they arranged a training for me and women from the Mother’s Union at two of the nearby parishes. I was actually kind of surprised at how much the ladies enjoyed it, and were excited about trying it on their own. The woman in charge is one savvy businesswoman (one of our closest friends, but who never gives me discounts on the handicrafts she sells), so I’m interested to see where this will go.

Life: It’s been hard sorting out all of the emotions about leaving, especially having been a little under the weather. I’m worried about saying goodbye, worried about what happens to our projects when we leave, and worried about finding meaningful work when I get back home. I’m also trying to get perspective on what it was like to live here, in Rwanda, for two years. Tom and I visited the Gisozi Genocide Memorial Center in Kigali during our stay. We went for the first time the day after we landed here more than two years ago, and it was very moving and informative. I think that I was expecting it to be easier this time, more museum than place to mourn. I have no idea why I thought this. It was so much more intense. It’s an experience I want to write more about on this blog, but after I leave Rwanda.

Making things: I started packing things up last week. I put the fabric I had collected in my suitcase and began to hyperventilate. I have a lot of stuff. Stuff that reminds me of Rwanda, and of people, and trips, and general happy memories. I don’t know what I am going to do. I think I thought that making things out of the fabric stash would be a sensible option, but then I just have more stuff to bring home. Still, it’s been fun. I made a bag with belt loops that I plan to use for our trekking adventure in Nepal next month, like a slightly less embarrassing fanny pack, lined with a woven plastic rice sack to make it a little water resistant. The other is a gift for a friend.

5 weeks left: Still 5 weeks left?

2011-02-24T00:50:00.000-08:00

Life: In January, we had a big conference at a beautiful hotel on the banks of Lake Kivu, and we talked, essentially, about endings and beginnings. What did Peace Corps mean to us, what did we do, how can we feel proud of it, how do we bring things to a close, and what will we do next. It was really well done, and made me feel good and peaceful about my experience, and more prepared for finding meaningful work once I am done here. It made things feel like they were ending really, really soon. But that was over a month ago, and now there is more than a month to go. It’s strange—too little time to start new things, but too much time to start wrapping things up in earnest, too early to start packing up and giving things away, too early to really say goodbye, but having those goodbyes looming in front of you.

Work: The health post is still going. I took a few more pictures this week. I wish I could be there more often, but it’s far, and there’s a lot of administrative work to be done back here at my site. I won’t bore you.

Crafts and Cooking: There has been a lot of cooking going on, since there are a lot of things I have been saving for later, and now there’s not much later left. In the last week alone, I’ve made chocolate ice cream, brownies, my grandma’s apricot bars, barbecue sauce, sushi, with lots more plans for the weekend. Now that we have memorized the word for ribs, we have talked it over with the owner of our preferred local restaurant, and are having goat ribs on Friday, with my barbecue sauce. We are very excited about this.

Also, I’ve been making a lot of things. I finished a pair of socks, and finished knitting a scarf, except for the crochet trim, which bored me, so I started yet another scarf. Plus, working on some small goodbye and thank you gifts.

6 weeks left: How to disengage

2011-02-14T06:06:00.000-08:00

Work: The health post is working! There are staff, medicines, and supplies, and, most importantly patients. The work and the problems of getting it open have given way to the headaches and frustrations of all the little problems, and making sure that things are going to continue going smoothly once we leave.

The health post accountant with her new neighbors

Life: It has dawned on me that we are actually, really leaving. One of our peace corps neighbors is finishing early and going home next week, so we sent him off with a party last weekend. It’s sad, but he’s a good friend, and I don’t doubt that we’ll see him again soon. We do tend to get together a lot, and it seems like we do it increasingly as we get closer to the end, and each time, we ask ourselves if this is the last time. I’m sure this isn’t, but it hangs in the air. I think we get especially close to each other because we’re disengaging from our work and communities. It was hard watching Brandon say goodbye to his Rwandan friends, and start giving his things away to neighbors. I know I’m going to see these guys again sooner than I’m going to see my Rwandan family here. As we pull away from Rwanda, I think we pull together, just like we always do when things are difficult. I just hope that in the end that doesn’t make things even harder.

The Boys, one last time

Crafts: So, as I’ve mentioned before, my friend Anna and I visit the local prison about once a week to sew toys for children at the hospital with some of the female prisoners. Last week, we were wrapping up, and giving the new bean bags a quick toss to make sure the beans wouldn’t fall out, I had a vision: Brandon is a serious juggler. African fabric bean bags would be the perfect gift. Given that Anna has made hundreds of these things, she was the one to present Brandon with them. On my part, Tom had recently talked me into buying a promotional length of fabric for Primus – Rwanda’s most popular beer. Thinking about gifts that were both small and meaningful, I came up with a passport holder for Brandon. While I was sewing, I realized that the fabric was actually not for Rwandan Primus, but the Congolese brand. Still, I don’t think that that detracts from the overall effect.

And finally, a Valentine’s Day gift from our garden.

7 Weeks Left: Planned Obsolescence

2011-02-06T06:31:00.001-08:00

Work: As things get busier here, I find myself focusing more and more on making myself obsolete. This was hard at first—I felt like I was slacking when I would ask a colleague to make a call, or fill out a form, especially since I was really excited about the work. To back up, our colleague Lysiane was promoted from part time interpreter to the full-time Rwandan representative of the NGO we work with, Humanity for Children. We were excited about this, because knew she would do a great job, and a more effective one that a succession of foreigners could. A shift in mindset doesn’t happen overnight, but it's been amazing seeing her grow in her new role. We’re working closely together, and I’m doing my best to teach her ways to work more effectively, and communicate with the American staff more effectively as well. As the opening date of our health post approaches and there’s more and more work to do, it’s a challenge to get everything done, but while is hasn’t been the most stress-free week, it’s been rewarding.

Life: Have I mentioned that I love Rwanda? It has the most perfect climate, and I swear I haven’t seen a single spot that isn’t incredibly beautiful in its own way. I couldn’t count the number of times I have taken the same route on the main (only?) highway in our province, but there are still spots that make me catch my breath, I had forgotten how beautiful they were. I have seen the starriest nights, the most perfect rainbows, prettiest sunsets, and the most shooting stars of my life.

A house in Gitarama at sunset. This is on a side road in the second biggest city in the country.

At the same time, it’s a tiny country, whose development– albeit turbocharged– is in early stages. Tom and I have done a lot of the major tourist attractions, like hiking in Nyungwe Forest, visiting Gisenyi and Kibuye on Lake Kivu, safaris and camping in Akagera park, and most recently, climbing Mount Bisoke. But, to keep things interesting, I like to have a running list of day trips. These have included a trip to a monastery and pottery in our District, requiring an hour and a half on a bike taxi, and our most epic to date, a walk to our friend Emmett’s site, which took about 9 hours, partially in a thunderstorm. For some reason, I was confident that we would walk back the same way the next day, so I took exactly two pictures. Here is one – featuring a Rwandan beehive. Unfortunately, we had to take a bus when it became apparent that our blister-covered, aching feet could not transport us back

Anyway, my most recent excursion was a trip to Kirehe District to visit the Kakira Imigongo cooperative. Imigongo are traditional paintings of raised geometric designs, generally black and white. They were traditionally used to decorate people’s homes, but have become a common handicraft, sold on wooden panels. They were not my favorite Rwandan craft at first, but I love them now, both for their vibrancy and their unmistakable Rwandanness. So, at the coop, there were a group of women sitting outside, forming the patterns in a mixture of earth and cow dung, and others painting them with natural pigments. They were kind enough to let me take pictures. And I was happy to buy a couple to bring home, traditional designs and unfortunately not the temptingly beautiful (and huge) village scene they had for sale.

Crafts: After lots of planning and evaluation of April temperatures of places we would like to go, Tom and I are planning on heading to a Nepal for a month after Rwanda. While I am incredibly excited about this, Rwanda has completely spoiled me temperature wise, and I now get cold and hot very easily, which is ridiculous. I am planning on freezing in Nepal, especially since I wasn’t really packing for a Himalayan trek when I left the U.S. for Africa. Luckily, our market is full of second hand clothes, and I’ve managed to find some decent hiking equipment and a fleece. To supplement those finds, I’m working on a pair of wool socks (thanks for the yarn, Aunt Yvonne!). I finished one, but I’ll wait to show you until both are finished. Instead, here’s picture of a scarf I knit on top of quilt I sewed.

8 weeks left

2011-01-31T04:51:00.000-08:00

Work: Meetings and meetings and meetings, at the district, with the church, and elsewhere. But things are coming of it. Our organization’s health post has been languishing for a year without the support to start up, but this week the job announcements were posted for the nurses and other staff that will provide health care to a sector of over 13,000 people. We’ve had community health days there in the past, and moms start coming with their kids early in the morning, and there’s a steady stream all day, until it’s finally too late, and they are sent home with a toothbrush, multivitamin, and deworming meds. I cannot wait until they can get care every day, any time they need it.

Crafts: I have become well creative here, and I’m almost too embarrassed to admit it. But here’s my latest homemade gift for a friend – the sachet is made out of a pair of old linen shorts, and filled with lavender I picked up on my layover in Amsterdam. The lip balm is homemade, and scented with Rwandan lemongrass essential oil, as is the candle. I have become unhealthily obsessed with making candles and lip balm, because how many of those two things can anyone realistically use?

Life: It was my birthday last weekend, and got to spend it hosting some of our amazing friends. I am savoring each last gathering, and what is most likely my last warm weather birthday in a while. Thanks for all who sent birthday wishes my way!

Also, my amazing tailor gave me a huge box of fabric scraps for our project making toys for kids in the local hospital. We had to check it out first.

2011-01-16T07:53:00.000-08:00

I wrote this the week before Christmas. I am now officially finishing my Peace Corps service on March 29th, and with so little time left, I'm hoping to document a bit more regularly.

My Garden:

I have a beautiful garden full of vegetables, herbs, salad greens, and a field of sweet corn that might just be perfect on Christmas day. It's beautiful and makes me happy every time I look outside. Back in America, is it possible for us to afford a place in the city where gardening is possible? It's making us discuss the suburbs for the first time in our marriage. The first time in my life!

My Front Door:

First Anna made the wreath out of avocado leaves and dried chiles from our garden, then one from a pine tree cut down along the road. The archway is from our front yard, the chairs were purchased from the back of a bike of a guy I saw walking down the road. This is what got me into the holiday spirit.

Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World)

I just got back from a 5-day camp for secondary school girls. I was facilitator for 11 girls from all over Rwanda, talking about goal setting, good decision making, and HIV prevention, on top of the leadership acitivities, and just fun. Doing yoga outside with a bunch of groaning girls while the evangelical church next door blasted praise music was an entertaining high point, as was the camp fire where the girls wrote things that someone had told them they couldn't do because they were girls, then threw it in the fire. When one of my girls read "they say I won't find a husband because I'm clever," crumpled the paper, and threw it in the flames, I cheered. It was exhausting, though, and it's good to be back at site.

My morning conversation

2010-02-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

I passed a little boy in a school uniform this morning, and had the following conversation, translated from kinyarwanda for your reading pleasure.

Me: good morning.
boy: eeh.
Me: are you going to school?
Boy. eeh.
Me: have a good day!
Boy: eeh?
Me: I said, 'have a good day."
Boy. eeh.

January, Part 2

2010-02-05T03:29:00.000-08:00

I have pride. That is the main reason I try to hide my crazy cat-lady-ness. However, anyone who knows me probably picks up on the fact that I am really, really into animals. In my past life in DC, I lived three blocks from the National Zoo. It’s big, and cool, and free, and I went there at least once a week while I lived in the neighborhood. While it can be packed with families and kids and strollers, it can also be an almost-deserted wooded park in the middle of the city, where it’s just you and the tigers, and you can pretend that you and the hippos have a special connection, even though they would stomp you to death in a heartbeat if you were on the other side of the fence.

Living here is different, of course. I’ve seen few of the wild animals rumored to live around my site (caracals, servals, Mutwari the elephant), just mongooses and some gigantic rabbits, and maybe some monkeys at a distance. I see enough beautiful and/or weird birds that I got a birding guide to East Africa for Christmas, and I use it all the time. I say all this to underline how strange it is that I have not been to Rwanda’s game park, Akagera, until one full year in country. We’ve been talking about having “Safari Saturday” with other volunteers since we knew we would be posted in Eastern Province, but it required a little more coordination than I felt like putting in. But, January 29^thmarked one year in Rwanda, so we made it happen.

On Saturday afternoon, Tom and I met up with friends from different parts of the country, and headed to the camp site. The landscape changed quickly, from green, densely populated hills to more open spaces, and scrubby, dusty landscape with fewer and fewer people. We paid our entry fees, collected our tent, and blessedly found a place to buy a crate of beer. After a brief stop to see the Akagera Game lodge (where we had the privilege of a gorgeous view of Lake ?, and of a guy at the pool having to chase a baboon away from his food), we went to our campsite and set up our tents and got a fire going. Luckily for us, we had perfect weather and a full moon so bright that Tom and I took a walk without flashlights, startling an antelope along the way.

The next morning, after watching the sunrise, our ride arrived (a sweet, open-top safari car), and we set out. We spent the next 6 hours driving through the park. Sightings included:

Mammals

· Baboons (including a baboon fight)

· Buffalo

· Plains zebras

· Impala

· Topi (a big antelope)

· Warthogs

· Hippos

Reptile

· Crocodiles

Birds

· Fish eagle

· Ibis and other shore birds

· Kingfishers

· Marabou storks

· Guinea fowl

· Yellow billed ox peckers (which eat bugs and parasites off the buffalo)

· Lilac-breasted roller

Oh, and tsetse flies, which bit us a lot, and which will hopefully not give us sleeping sickness.

I know that Rwanda is not the absolute best place to go on safari. We didn’t see elephants or lions, but seriously, I don’t actually care. I didn’t care that I looked like a gigantic dork with a broad brim hat, video camera, and bird book, and it was impossible not be goofy and giddy and thrilled when standing there looking at animals I’ve only seen in zoos and picture books.

Towards the end, we realized that we were headed back to the park entrance a little earlier than expected, and everyone had the same thought- - we have not seen giraffes yet. With a little cajoling, our guide (who honestly, seemed kind of bored and unhelpful throughout) reluctantly radioed in to see if anyone knew where the giraffes were, and we were off. We retraced our path from the morning, and stopped at the top of a tall hill. After a few minutes, our guide pointed, we squinted, and we saw giraffes, like tiny stick figures in the distance. When we finally got there, there were seven, some babies, and some gloriously tall, slender, and alien-looking. We watched them, they watched us with faint curiosity, then went back to eating leaves. Eventually the driver turned the engine back on, and we drove away.

That was it. We went home, looked at our pictures, and thought about how we were going to tell our friends and families about it. I found myself missing my cat.

The postscript to safari was that I left my phone in the car, and it ended up with another volunteer an hour away from my site. So, the next day, I had to go meet her. After I picked up my phone, I visited to other friends I hadn’t seen since Thanksgiving. We sat in Chrissy’s living room drinking coffee, eating chapati, and listening to Bob Dylan, while neighborhood kids colored at her table and climbed trees in her front yard. We compared safari stories, Christmas travel stories (they had opted for Ethiopia instead of Zanzibar), and laughed at the ridiculous parts of our lives. It was hot outside when I left, and I climbed into a hot, crowded minibus (the name for them in Kinyarwanda literally means “scoot over”) that took a long time, and somehow, it made me really happy. The baby on my left slept against my shoulder, the one on my right pressing buttons on my phone. I chatted with their mothers, and let what a good month (and year) I’d had sink in.

One thing more...

2010-02-04T08:30:00.000-08:00

For the last few months, I've been trying to move to my own house in a village near where I work. When the coworker who has been helping me told me that the rennovations were starting last week, I wasn't holding my breath. But yesterday I stopped by, and I couldn't believe it! Things are moving at lightning speed! I need a bed! A chair! A crate of Primus to welcome everyone to my new home!

Of course, it's not completely done yet, but it's getting there.

January, Part 1

2010-02-04T08:01:00.001-08:00

January is a difficult month. Back home in America—particularly way back home in Ohio—it is characterized by bitterly cold weather with no end in sight, sickness from all those people you hugged at Christmas, credit card bills from the presents, and darkness at five o’clock at night. My birthday is January 27th, and while I fancy myself an Aquarius and garnets look good on me, I do not like having a birthday in January.

A year ago, I met all my Peace Corps colleagues on my birthday. It is awkward to celebrate your birthday with people you’ve never met before. It is even more awkward to turn 30 with a bunch of strangers who are almost all way younger than you. The excitement and adventure carried me through, but this year I wanted to make sure that this was a really good January, to celebrate my year, warts and all.

Of course, the first day in January started well, on a beach in Zanzibar as we recovered from New Year’s Eve, and prepared to go back to Rwanda. After the ferry ride back to Dar es Salaam (where they managed to play Rocky 1-4 by fast forwarding the slow bits), we went to our first movie theater in a year, in the first mall (!) we had seen in a year. It was the calm before the storm of the 36-hour, bone rattling bus ride from hell that would start the next day.

The next weekend, a friend came to visit, and I always like entertaining people at site and introducing them to our friends here. It reminds me how far we’ve come, like how all the market ladies yell our names when they tell us to come buy their tomatoes. The next weekend I splurged and went to Kigali. While Tom came down with giardia, I had a pretty good time. We watched movies at a pretty outdoor restaurant, threw a dinner party at a friend’s place, did a little shopping, ate a croissant, etc.

The next weekend was a little further outside the comfort zone, visiting a friend in the Western Province. I honestly and genuinely like every volunteer in our cohort, so it makes me sad that I never see the people who live out west, just because they happen to be cut off by a giant rain forest. Also, all major roads are pretty much spokes that radiate from Kigali, so you have to get there first, then get on the 5+ hour bus that takes you through the forest to Cyangugu on Lake Kivu. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a gorgeous ride. Nyungwe is primeval and lovely, and you’re virtually guaranteed to see l’Hoest’s monkeys along the road. However, said road is in wretched condition, and it twists and turns so much that someone is vitually guaranteed to throw up en route. We got past biggest tea plantations, and got off the bus, and walked to our friend’s site in a small village with a District hospital. It was nice to get away from the heat here to visit somewhere to cool and rainy and green, even if it meant accumulating inches of mud on the bottoms of my shoes. We saw a new market, saw Lake Kivu and the DRC in the distance, saw some education PCVs, cooked together, drank tea together and talked. Tom would like you to know that he made chili over a wood fire and it was awesome. Peace Corps Rwanda Chili Cook-off 2010 is ON!

So, the middle of that week was my birthday. Since I was planning a big finish to the month, I wasn’t really paying attention to the day, I just hoped Tom would come, and someone might want to make popcorn and watch a movie or something. The day came, and it was nice because people wished me a happy birthday, even people who didn’t know me very well, even though I hadn’t really told people. Tom made it and took me out to one of the local bars, saying, “I really need a beer,” but when asked, he had no specific reason. It was just us for the most part, because other friends said they were working, or otherwise busy. Which is cool. People work a lot here. And then Tom started to get a lot of text messages, but he wouldn’t say who they were from. Then we got to the house, and just about every person in my organization was in the living room yelling “surprise. “ It was overwhelming how nice it was, and it took a lot of effort not to “happy cry,” because that would be weird. So, there was cake, there was a tower of crepes, there was wine and music, and pictures. I am really, really lucky to have such amazing friends and coworkers (and to live in a village where my birthday party is easily the best party in town).

So, I’m going to save the last weekend of the month for another day, because it was a great cap to the festivities, because this is already long, and because it deserves its own space, because it was really, really good. When I looked at the surprise party pictures, I realized that I was wearing the same outfit I had worn to my going away party in DC. So, I’ll be posting those before and after pictures soon. The other side of thirty is looking pretty good.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes via e-mail, facebook, texts, and calls. I’m so lucky to know all of you.

xoxo

2010-01-19T07:51:00.000-08:00

Someone prodded me to update my blog, and since that reassured me that someone actually reads it, I thought I would oblige.

To recap, I got to Rwanda on January 29, 2009. I got to my first site in mid-April, and have been working at my second site since August. I am closing in on a year in Rwanda. Until December, I had not left the country, meaning I had not stepped outside one of the smallest countries in Africa for almost one year. I love Rwanda, and I am exceptionally lucky to be here, but it was definitely time for a change.

In mid-December, we left for a 2-week trip to neighboring Tanzania, more specifically, Zanzibar, an island in the Indian Ocean. The process of getting there and back was somewhat less than fabulous. I went with Tom and three other PCVs, and another coworker. We left Kigali early Saturday morning, and basically descended from 5,140 feet (Denver is 5,280) to sea level over the course of 30 hours. It wasn’t bad at all, save for a 2-hour stretch of unpaved road at hour 10 (imagine off-roading on Greyhound). We even got to watch an early Jean Claude Van Damme film.

Observations: Tanzania is much more flat, much more sparsely populated, and way hotter than Rwanda. And also, lovely. I would love to spend more time there. But, we powered through to the coast. Possibly the only bad thing about the bus ride was getting out, sleepy, hot, and non-Swahili speaking at the bus station in Dar es Salaam. Even then, I don’t think the taxi drivers ripped us off too badly, and the subsequent 2-hour ferry to Zanzibar rocked me to sleep.

We landed a bit before sunset, and it was lovely – majestic old buildings on the seafront, and kids diving off the pier into the ocean. We were lucky enough to be hooked up with a friend living on the island for a year that was incredibly generous, and let us stay at his house, despite the fact that there was no power, and thus no running water (power plant problems have meant that there’s no power for a few months).

Over the next two weeks, we split our time between lounging on beaches and exploring Stonetown, with its old buildings and windy streets and amazing food.

It was nice to be in a place again that has been so connected to broader global trends for hundreds of years. The food has lots of Indian influence (Indian influence + lots of fresh seafood = happiness), the music was cool, the architecture is beautiful, and evidence that some money was seriously being made by the people who live in these stately, if currently decrepit, houses. A lot of that money was being made through the trade in spices grown on the island (cloves! Nutmeg! Cinnamon! Cardamom! Vanilla! I saw it all hanging on trees!). And also, slaves trafficked there from other parts of East and Central Africa.

For most of one week, Tom and I moved from our tent at our friend’s house to a room in a pretty, airy hotel in stonetown. Which happened to be built on the site of the world’s largest open slave market. You could pay to go into a passageway under the hotel, into a chamber where slaves were kept before being taken to the market. It was a tiny room with little ventilation, raised areas where 75 or more people would sit, in conditions that were intentionally bad to test the limits of their ability to survive. The reason our hotel (formerly, it was a hospital) was on that site was because it was run by the Anglican Church, which was a leader in the abolition movement in East Africa. They spearheaded the closing of the market, and built their cathedral on the spot. So, is it morbid that we stayed there? At a place where I can see a memorial from my airy little balcony?

As a side trip on our tour of a spice plantation, we went to a cave that had been used in the illegal slave trade after the main market was closed. Hundreds of people were lowered into this pit that was closed off, but which had, at low tide, a tunnel to the beach. The beach happens to be one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.

So, I know that there are lots and lots of places that are beautiful because someone amassed wealth and power by stepping on the necks of the poor and oppressed (my 6th grade family vacation to Charleston South Carolina comes to mind, and, you know, the White House). I guess, I was so focused on getting away from the sadness that still affects day to day life in Rwanda, that I was struck by how much this much older suffering saddened me.

Of course, this didn't prevent us from having a really wonderful time. My friend, Emmett, has a pretty thorough description of our time there, so I’ll end here for now. I miss the ocean, I miss the food, but it’s nice to be back in Rwanda.

Merry Thanksgiving and Happy Christmas!

2009-12-17T08:35:00.000-08:00

For any of you who have ever lived abroad, you know that food becomes an obsession after a while. In any lengthy conversation with other foreigners here, conversation inexorably turns to food -- where to find specialty foods in Kigali (like, say, pringles), tweaked recipes for making comfort food with things you can get at the market, or hypothetical "you just got off the plane in Nashville: which Mexican restaurant would you go to, and WHAT WOULD YOU ORDER?" This made planning for Thanksgiving a very big process. A letdown on this crucial day could make us keenly feel every moment of the 10 months we've been away, and a success could soothe us with the gentle embrace of the food coma.

I went to celebrate Thanksgiving in Kigali with the other – almost all the other – volunteers. Ahmed had managed for find, buy, kill, and transport a turkey down from the mountains, Tom made a dead ringer for cranberry sauce with pineapple and lemon rind, and Meredith and co. made more mashed potatoes than I have ever seen at one time. I think we were all a little shocked once it was on the table – an honest-to-God Thanksgiving dinner, cooked mainly by Thanksgiving amateurs. I have never been in charge of more than the vegetable tray, and this year I pulled off green bean casserole, cake, and gravy. Every single thing was made from scratch, and was amazing by any standard (even grandma would be proud of Tom’s stuffing). Moreover, we were all so thankful to be together, speaking English and cooking in frantic solidarity, thankful for our surrogate family and for every bite of food. Honestly, the blues over not spending the holidays with family didn’t set in until Friday morning.

I got to involve my parents a little, though. I asked for a cake recipe from mom, and dad sent me a scanned page out of her cookbook, with the recipe circled and with notes in her handwriting. It’s called Mexican wedding cake in the book, but I call it my Rwandan Thanksgiving Cake.
Mix together:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp baking soda
About 2 ½ cups chopped pineapple or a 20 oz can of crushed pineapple
1 cup nuts (mom uses walnuts, I used macadamia)

Pour into greased 13x9” pan and bake at 350 for about 40 minutes
The recipe called for cream cheese icing, and being unable to find cream cheese for less than $8 a package here, I changed it up with:
1 stick butter, ¼ cup orange juice, and enough powdered sugar to make it the right consistency.

This was made in a borrowed oven, one that only had 2 settings: on and off. So yeah, I burnt the top of the cake. But I did manage to pick off the worst parts, and when I yelled "who wants burnt cake pieces with leftover icing," no one was complaining, and they disappeared quickly.

On Saturday, we head out on our Christmas adventure, and I hope it will be as good as Thanksgiving.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Books for Peace

2009-11-18T00:07:00.000-08:00

Last week Tom and I helped with some Peace Corps training. It happened to be in Nyanza, which was the home of the last kings of Rwanda. We got a chance to visit the museum and the homes of the two last kings – one traditional Rwandan, and one Belgian-built palace. It was great to see, and while we were there, we decided to buy an amazing coffee table book of Rwandan history. Not only was it beautiful, it was trilingual, with side-by-side French, English, and Kinyarwanda.

Buying the book wasn’t an easy decision, since it cost about a third of my monthly Peace Corps stipend, but I love it, from its detailed descriptions of goat entrail divination and banana leaf raincoats, to its complete non-coverage of the war. While that can seem like an oversight, it’s great to have something that validates the fact that Rwandan history and culture did not begin and end in 1994. We happily added it to the stack of books on our coffee table—books that we use for learning Kinyarwanda, like a Kinyarwanda comic book and our phrase books, but that we also like sharing with guests, who will look at them for hours. Rwandans are hungry to learn English, since the government switched from French to English as the official language really abruptly in January of 2009 (our Kinyarwanda-English dictionary will be in tatters soon). Moreover, people have just not had access to books in Kinyarwanda, aside from bibles and hymnals.

While I was prepared for Rwanda to be poor, I was not prepared for the level of “book poverty.” Books here are scarce and expensive. I can probably count on my hand-- maybe even one hand-- the number of bookstores in the country, and while there is a library project in the capital, it has yet to open. Because I grew up in a rural area, I compare my experience to that or rural kids here all the time. For instance, I loved the public library. Tiffin had a wonderful one, and it was where I gained my interest in a broader world. In junior high, when I went to school across the street, I went there almost every day. In recent hypothetical baby name conversations with Tom, my request for girl’s name is both the name of my favorite author and my children’s librarian. I am that kind of person. When I saw a Rwandan coworker rapt, flipping through my bosses’ kids’ copy of Pat the Bunny, for the first time,* it made me want to hijack a bookmobile and bring it here.

Rwanda is dependent on the knowledge and skills of its people to survive. Farming is already incredibly intense here, there is little in the way of mineral wealth, its hope lies with its people, and there are a lot. This is the most population dense country in Africa, after all. Some of the skills they need to compete in a global economy are language and computer skills. These are things that a library can provide. But libraries and books, and, importantly, programs that promote and optimize the use of libraries and books, can promote a love of learning, as well as just providing a source of joy. For this reason, I am really excited about an initiative started by Peace Corps volunteers, the Books for Peace Project. 14 volunteers, 14 different communities, are working with Books for Africa to deliver a cargo container of books and computers to their villages, scattered across the country. Communities agree raise a certain amount themselves, for example, by hiring a librarian, and building a space for books to be kept and used. Because there is community ownership of the project, and a volunteer dedicated to the project, they will avoid some of the problems I have seen, where there are books, but no interest in them, or no access to them. Books are expensive and irreplaceable here, I understand, but it was so sad to see a collection of books, lovingly donated by an American, sitting pristine and untouched, locked in the cabinet in the school headmaster’s office.

These resources are going to help add to the educational experience of poor rural kids, as well as urban street kids, and provide resources for staff at health centers. The program has raised a considerable amount of money, but has over $7,000 to go. I hope you’ll visit their site and consider contributing (you can also contact the point person listed there for more information).

As I switched sites, I am not involved in this round, but plan to be involved in participate in the next, and try to bring a little booklove to my new home. I’ll keep anyone who’s interested updated here.

*The realization that they had probably also never read The Velveteen Rabbit was devastating.

Rainy season is the new fall

2009-11-10T23:38:00.000-08:00

It’s time for my second rainy season in Rwanda (there are 2 each year, the first starting around April). This one is not as intense as the first, and I don’t know if it’s because of where I’m living, an unusual year, normal variation, etc. Still, I don’t leave the house without a raincoat wadded up in my bag. I live in a big, open valley and when there’s a storm, I can literally see it coming a mile away. The lightning looks pretty spectacular, too.

Another nice thing about the timing of the rainy season is that it’s cooler, matching up nicely with the weather back home. It’s definitely not “November in Ohio” cold here right now, but it was nice to be a little cold at night and to have a Halloween bonfire. The temperature doesn’t vary all that much in Rwanda, and having a little bit of a season change is helping my body comprehend that I’ve really been gone almost a year, missing half of winter, and all of spring, summer, and fall at home. This is the longest I’ve ever been out of the US.

The cooler weather makes me want to make comfort food all the time. My organization feeds all of its staff three meals a day, which is great, but I miss getting to cook all the time, and one the weekend, I almost always make macaroni and cheese. It somehow seems especially good when it rains.

To make it:

Make most of a bag of curly pasta.

While that cooks, grate a couple of handfuls of gouda (the only cheese you can get in Rwanda, and God bless whatever Belgians or whoever introduced it).
In a saucepan, combine 4 tbs of butter or blue band or butter. I’ve also used oil. Melt the butter, then stir in 4 tbs. of flour. If you don’t have measuring spoons, don’t sweat it. The idea is to use equal amounts. Stir or whisk them together for a few minutes, being careful that they don’t burn. Add one cup of milk and stir until the sauce thickens. Then stir in your cheese, until it melts. If it gets all stringy and weird, just keep stirring until it’s a smooth consistency (add more milk if it seems too thick). At this point, you could theoretically add the noodles, and it would be great. However, I like to start adding a bunch of condiments to try to fake what it would be like with sharp cheddar. This usually involves about 3 spoonfuls of mustard, some Worcestershire sauce, a few squirts of hot sauce (not urusenda), and a bunch of black pepper, just because. When I like it, it’s done.

I'm trying to find a new housing situation, something less secluded and more like a normal Peace Corps setup. Hopefully I'll have more to post soon.

2009-10-20T22:58:00.000-07:00

I had a hard time waking up this morning. I was tired, I had a cold shower to look forward to, and a long day ahead. But, I opened my front door, and a metallic purple bird flew into the path in front of my house and chirped at me. Then another, which seemed like a good omen for the day. Then, after shower and breakfast, I walked to work and saw mongooses-- a big, social business of mongooses. Some scampered behind a bush when I walked by, but a lot of them just stayed where they were, and watched me with faint interest. Sort of like my cat. It was awesome.

I'm at my site after half a weekend in Kigali, and half at my husband's site. Kigali is expensive, especially if you want to eat something different from simple Rwandan food, food that's very good, but pretty repetitive. By the weekend I'm craving something else, but if I eat out the way I want to at restaurants in Kigali, I spend as much as I would in DC. It was nice to go back home, spend time in the kitchen with Tom, and make Indian food, which we did on Sunday night. Daal, chapati, and green pepper curry.

3 coves of garlic, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1" of ginger, chopped
1 tsp cumin seeds

4 green peppers, cut into 3/4" squares or so
8 med tomatoes -- skins removed and roughly chopped

1 tbs ground coriander
1/4 tsp turmeric
1/8-1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
salt to taste.

heat a few tsps of oil in a frying pan. Add cumin seeds and fry, let them sizzle for a few seconds, then add ginger and onion. Fry until onion browns at the edges. Add garlic and saute for a few seconds. Add peppers and stir fry for 4-5 minutes. Then add tomatoes and the spices, and some salt. Stir, bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until the peppers are a nice soft-but-not-too-soft consistency. salt to taste and serve with rice or chapati. It gets even better the next day.

2009-10-13T08:19:00.000-07:00

It’s been hard to figure out how to write about my new job. I’m working for Inshuti Mu Buzima, a complete public health dream job. I like what I do, the committed people I work with, and the incredibly, implausible beautiful spot where I’m now located. Tom and I are now living in separate towns, which is not ideal, but very doable thus far—we’re only about 40 minutes apart, and have managed to see each other every weekend.

Last week I got a fantastic package of letters from a third grade classroom in Ohio, through the Coverdell Worldwise Schools Program. I had an awesome time responding to them, and can’t wait for the next ones. I hope I have at least sent a bunch of boys running to wikipedia to learn about the black mamba. It also feels weird to write things like, “yes, there are lions and elephants here” (I’m really close to a game park).

One of my favorite things about the letters was how incredibly familiar the kids’ point of reference is. Tom read the letters first, and was just waiting for me to get to the letter that asked me if I liked Bob Evans, of if they have “cricks” in Rwanda (do people say crick instead of “creek” anywhere else but Ohio?). And while writing, “yes, I like chicken mcnuggets, but, no, they don’t have McDonald’s in Rwanda,” is funny, it also gets to what excites me about this exchange. In a lot of ways, I have no idea how I got here. I know why I made different decisions at different points in my life, but how I got from a farm in Ohio (a home that I’m proud of) to a village in Rwanda pursuing a career in global health still feels a little like a fluke, and the fact that I’m getting to do exactly what I want feels like a fantastic stroke of like, despite all the work I’ve put in. If I can make kids aware that people lack basic necessities of life like water, adequate sanitation, decent housing, or that kids like them suffer from diseases that can be prevented by something as simple as a mosquito net, that’s good. If I can convince them that they can do something about that, or make them question injustice and inequality, that’s pretty good too. Even if I get someone to want to travel, I’m happy.

Women and kids waiting on vaccination day

Almost July

2009-06-28T03:14:00.000-07:00

So, it’s been a while since I posted. Didn’t have internet for a while, lots of things going on, and there we are. Now that internet is back up and I have a lazy Sunday afternoon in front of me, I’m ready to catch up.

Work. We had our groundbreaking ceremony for our clinic, and it went really well. Still lots of hurdles before we can really start construction, but the word is getting out about the project. We had over a thousand people from the community show up at our ceremony, to watch the singing and dancing, and probably to watch the muzungus as well (muzungu being the word for “foreigner,” or “white person,” that is shouted at my on a daily basis.) I’m hoping to get some community health education programs going between now and when the clinic opens next year.

Teaching. I’m teaching 2 English classes, one to a group of about 12 second graders at the local orphanage, one with a group of scholarship students at the local university. Somehow, the class at the orphanage is going much better (they are no longer afraid of me). If any of you teachers out there have ideas on ways to teach English with no books or notebooks, I am all ears. I’ve been trying to teach body parts, and was focusing on facial features last week. First of all, the kids could not pronounce face. It was frace, with a rolled “r”. I cannot for the life of me figure this out. Also, to start the lesson, I drew a quick cartoon-ish face on the blackboard, and all the kids yelled out “Muzungu! Muzungu!” like they were playing pictionary, I’ve never thought about my completely rudimentary drawings having a race, but apparently they do.

Making. In my spare time, I’ve decided to learn how to crochet. I am not good at, and the only yarn you can get here is gross, crunchy acrylic stuff that is also really fine, so it takes forever. Still, the project is coming along, and it’s good to keep in my bag for things like bus rides and hour-long waits at the bank. It’s a secret, though.

Food. We’ve had a series of houseguests – people from our organization in the US, Humanity for Children. It was great having them, but the cooking slowed down, since it’s hard to cook for a big group every night. Now that it’s just Tom, me, and our new roommate, who will be here for the next year, I’m cooking a lot again. I made brownies in my fake stovetop oven (I melted the bottom out of one pan, so I need to rethink this, but they were still amazing). I also bought milk for the first time. I’ve been using powdered milk for everything, since it’s easy and it keeps. Yesterday brought my Nalgene to one of the neighborgood shops, and they filled it up with milk they had sitting on the counter. I took it home, boiled it, and then made ricotta out of it. It tastes really good, and I have plans to make ravioli. However, while I was letting it rest for a while, my roommate walked into the living room and casually asked, “so, whatcha making in there?” referring to the creepy-looking pan of curled milk on the stove. “Uh, I’m making cheese,” I responded, for the first time in my life.

The other interesting thing about having guests is that they're much less self-conscious about taking pictures here than I am. So when I'm already with a group of people taking pictures and attacting lots of attention anyway, I join in. As a result, I've added to my "cows of the world" photo collection. Here you go, Dad!

Sunday surprise

2009-05-17T13:29:00.000-07:00

So, this flew into my yard today. I have seen this bird at a zoo before, and never expected to see it anywhere else. I sat on the ground for a long time taking pictures and just enjoying the weirdness of it. It made my whole day seem better.

So did these. I don't miss having an oven very often, except when I want dessert. This is what I have been making instead.

Crepes with Passion Fruit Sauce

Crepes:

I've been trying out different recipes and this is the one I have liked best.

Make the crepe batter
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/3 cups milk (or that much water and about 3 spoonfuls of Nido)
2 tablespoons butter, melted (or margarine)
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons white sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Whisk together eggs, milk, melted butter, flour sugar and salt until it's smooth. You can let it rest while you make the sauce.
2. Heat a medium-sized skillet (nonstick if you have it) over medium heat. Grease pan with a small amount of margarine or oil. Spoon about 1/4 cup of crepe batter into the hot pan, tilting the pan so that bottom surface is evenly coated. Cook over medium heat, 1 to 2 minutes on a side, or until golden brown.

Passion Fruit Sauce

Put into a blender:
12 passion fruits (cut in half, scoop out seeds and pulp)
1 orange -- juiced with seeds removed.
a few spoonfuls of sugar and about 2oz of water

Puree in a food processor for 20 seconds, dump it into a pan and boil for about 2 minutes. Taste and adjust with more sugar or some honey. Strain through a sieve, stirring and mashing around with a ladle or wooden spoon.

It doesn't make a lot, but it's concentrated, so a little goes a long way. We've had it on pancakes, too, and it was great.

Another week

2009-05-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

When they say this is the rainy season, they are not joking. It's pouring down rain now, even though it was sunny and hot this morning. Tom and I went to visit a nearby school to meet the members of its anti-AIDS club. It was a 45 minute uphill walk, with pretty views across the valley to our own town on the opposite hill. We walked past tidy mud brick houses with little gardens that looked like the pages of a fairy-tale, minus the banana trees and sorghum fields on either side. We spoke to lots of kids in kinyarwanda, saying what our names were, asking them theirs, and saying, no, we aren't going to give you money. I shook lots of little hands, like I do every day, which is probably why I have conjunctivitis right now. Oh well.

So, we got to our secondary school, which is on top of the hill. Like lots of places in Rwanda, I find it almost impossibly beautiful. Most of the time, when I comment on how pretty a place is, people seem bemused by it, like, "this? you think this is pretty? why?" Anyway, when we got to the school, we found that the club had actually started earlier than we thought, and the peer educator was already at the front of the packed classroom (all the benches were more than full with over 60 kids), nonchalantly holding a hand-carved wooden penis model, which he occasionally knocked against a desk like a gavel when the kids were getting too loud.

I was surprised at how much I could follow of the conversation in Kinyarwanda. They were talking about the reproductive system, why girls have their period, the difference between sperm and semen, and they even asked me directly if girls could have erections. It sort of warmed my heart, especially when they followed all this information with practical talk about how to prevent HIV, teen pregnancy, and other unpleasant things. I'm used to hearing about the ABCs of HIV prevention -- abstinence, be faithful, and use condoms, and often hear about condoms falling off the radar. However, today I learned that in this club, they talk about abstinence, faithfulness, condom use, and education. I'm excited to visit again next week.

Things haven't been completely smooth this week. I still don't have a lot of definition in my job, and I haven't been able to meet a lot of the people I need to. It can be really hard to be here, to know there is so much work to be done, and not be able to get started. Luckily, next week is looking busier than the last, and I'm excited.

2009-05-09T07:54:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me and/or Tom knows that we're kind of food-oriented people. We really like Rwandan food -- ubugari, isombe, ibishyimbo, etc., but since getting to site, we've been cooking a lot, and probably more creatively than we have in a long time. I came to Rwanda prepared to make a lot of Indian food, since I knew that you can make a curry out of anything on any kind of stove, as long as you have some spices. So, since I was particularly happy with lunch today, I thought I would share some recipes.

First off, I should say that the produce here is amazing. All of you locavores spending lots of money at organic farmers markets, eat your heart out. That's our only option, and it's cheap as hell. Butter? That will be almost $10 a pound, and you can only get it in Kigali, the capital. Processed foods? A tiny can of "pressed cheddar" is too much for my peace corps stipend. But buckets of tomatoes, green beans, beets, carrots, onions, and more are cheap and great. The sweetest pineapple you've ever had costs 100 Rwandan francs-- the same price as one egg (and you can get almost six for the equivalent of a dollar). One vegetable that I've really wanted to like were the little eggplants. I mean, I love eggplant, and they look really good, but they are the most bitter I've ever had. I kept trying them at restaurants or at our training center, and was always completely disappointed. But at the market, they're incredibly cheap. Tom and I decided to experiment with them by trying to make Indian pickle- the really spicy, really sour condiment you can get at Indian buffets, thinking that maybe it would cut the bitterness. What we ended up with was not pickle, but was really, really good. Still bitter, but in a very doable way.

Recipe:
Cut a bunch of little eggplants (we bought a little plastic bucketful. Maybe a kilo or so?) cut into 1/4” x 1” strips
1/2 cup vegetable oil (this was according to a recipe we adapted, and I'll probably try it with half as much oil next time and see what happens.)
1 tsp salt, or more to taste
4 inch chunk of fresh ginger, minced into paste (we can get this in our local market, not sure about elsewhere, and I think it could work without it.
1/2 bulb (8 cloves) garlic, minced into paste

Spices:
2 tsp mustard powder, or more to taste
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp hot red chili powder or more to taste
1 tsp ground cumin seeds
I have all of these, and know you can get them relatively inexpensively in Kigali, but I also think that it would be worth trying them with the little packets of curry powder you can buy in most markets.

1 TB sugar
3/4 cup vinegar (the stuff we can get here is called "imitation table vinegar," which sounds bad, but works fine.)

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Heat the oil in a skillet and fry the garlic & ginger till golden brown, then remove from heat.
2. Add eggplant, salt mustard powder, turmeric, red chilli powder, and cumin into the ginger and garlic. Cook for 5 minutes until the eggplant just starts to collapse (kind of al dente).
3. In a separate pan dissolve the sugar in vinegar by heating on a low heat, then remove.
4. Add the sugar and vinegar mixture to the eggplant mixture and simmer for about one minute more, then remove.

That’s it. To go with it, we also made lentils, which I like as an alternative to the beans we have a lot (and instead of the meat I can’t bring myself to buy, because I bring myself to go into the butcher shop, or to buy and kill an animal myself. Yet.) I can’t get lentils here, but bags of them are fairly cheap in Kigali.

I like to use this simple recipe from Madhur Jarrfey’s book, “Indian Cooking”

4 Tbs Vegetable oil (can get away with less oil)
½ tsp whole cumin seeds (again, I think it could be interesting to experiment with curry powder, but I haven’t tried it yet)
4 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped (the garlic is so mild here, you could use even more)
1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
1 c. lentils (any kind – I’ve used red (masoor) lentils and moong dal), washed and drained
3 cups water
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp of cayenne (or to taste)

Heat the oil over a flame (medium, if you have control over that kind of thing). When it’s hot, add the cumin seeds, and a few seconds later, the garlic. Stir, and when the garlic turns brown, add the onion. Stir and fry until the onion pieces brown at the edges. Add the lentils and water and bring to a boil. Cover the pan, turn heat to low, and simmer for an hour or until the lentils are tender (check after 45 minutes or so). Add salt and cayenne, stir, and simmer for another 5 minutes.

So, to finish things off, we made chapattis. Chapatis are wonderful. I love them. They’re basically wheat tortillas, so I’ve been making tacos with them and eating them with guacamole as well as with Indian food. A bonus is that in India, they’re made with whole-wheat flour. I eat a lot of starches here in Rwanda (just like everyone else), but I’ve had a hard time finding whole grains. However, in Kigali, it wasn’t hard to find the kind of whole wheat flour made specifically for chapatti, called atta, plus it was even cheaper than the regular refined flour, which itself is not expensive. Anyway, they’re great. Again from Madhur Jaffrey:

Mix 2 ½ cups atta or regular flour and about ¾ cup of water. That’s it. Add some salt if you want.

When it comes together as a soft dough, knead for 6-8 minutes. I stretch the ball of dough out with the heel of my hand, fold it back on itself, give the ball a quarter turn, and repeat. After about 6 minutes it will be smooth. Put it in a bowl covered with a damp cloth for half an hour.

When you’re ready, put a frying pan on the stove (cast iron is good, if you have it) on a medium low flame (again, if you can control that kind of thing). Knead the dough a few times, then divide it into 15 little balls. Flour your work surface (it takes a good bit of flour to roll them out, so while I use whole wheat flour to make the dough, I use regular flour at this stage to conserve the stuff I can’t get at my local market). Roll a ball in flour, press down to make a patty, then roll it out. If you have a rolling pin, great, but if not, a Nalgene bottle works too. Dust it flour frequently while roll it out into a 5 ½ inch circle. Pat it between your hands to shake off the extra flour, and then slap it onto your hot pan. Cook it until it looks done on the bottom, then flip it over (this takes less than a minute). Now, when I flip mine over, they puff up with steam like little balloons. The traditional Indian way of making these is that after you cook the second side, you put the chapatti directly on hot charcoal and then flip it over, which also puffs it up. Madhur Jaffrey says that she flips the chapatti over with her hand, but when I tried that, I got a really painful steam burn on my finger. You have been warned.

As you finish them, stack them in a bowl lined with a dishtowel to keep them warm. They’re best right away, but can last a day or two in a ziplock bag (otherwise they dry out by the second day).

OK, I’m done nerding out. Comment if you try any of these, or if you have any suggestions!

2009-05-09T02:59:00.000-07:00

So, I'm now in my new home in Eastern Rwanda. It's a great post, not a big city, but not so rural that I can't find food outside of market days. One of the weirdest things about living here is that there is a Chinese medical mission that provides doctors for the local hospital. They've been doing this a long time, and as a result, everyone thinks I am Chinese. Yesterday, I was walking down the street, and a kid starting yelling out the window of his classroom, "muzungu! umuchinois! ni hao! ni hao!" Kids say ni hao to Tom and I ALL THE TIME. And when I mention how weird this is to one of my Engilsh speaking Rwandan friends, they said, "well, I can see how you seem Chinese. You have dark hair, you like to take walks." This did not illuminate things for me. Also, it has been amusing me that frequently when telling people that Tom is my husband, they look confused, and ask if we're brother and sister, because we look alike. Which is something that has never been said about us before.

I mean, do you see it?

My first blog from Rwanda

2009-04-08T07:27:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

I'm finishing up my last week of training here in Rwanda. Next week I'll be sworn is at a volunteer, and then I move to my new home for the next two years.

The rainy season has started in earnest, and through the windows of the computer lab, I can see the storm clouds rolling in. I can already hear thunder, so I'll keep this short before the power goes. Things are good and I'm excited and nervous about starting my new job. More soon. Send mail, send e-mails.

Malea