Classes here in Rwanda are very, very different from classes at home. Aside from the expected lack of technology, the style of teaching and of learning is very different, as are the associated attitudes.
The typical classroom is quite large; I would guess roughly 50 students though I am terrible at making such estimates. Students are required to wear uniforms, mid-calf skirts for girls and long shorts or pants for boys, usually with a button-up shirt. By North American standards most of the classrooms are very poorly equipped – containing hand-made wooden desks with attached bench seats (students often pack three of themselves onto these benches in a manner that would, I think, be uncomfortably close for any Canadian), a larger equally wooden bureau for the teacher (who continues to move from class to class through the end of secondary school) and large blackboards at the front. Classrooms are generally unadorned, with no pictures, tables or other learning materials on the walls.
The style of teaching is almost uniformly that of a lecture, with the teacher speaking on the subject at the front of the room and writing corresponding notes on the blackboard. Most teachers, especially those who teach sciences, wear lab coats to class for their lectures. There is little consideration of different learning styles and only a few exercises given at the end of each class. Classes are both less and more interactive than those in Canada. There are fewer “toys” or other objects for the students to learn with, fewer demonstrations and models, but many simple questions are asked of the students as the lecture proceeds. To be a kinesthetic learner or to be dyslexic in one of these classes would be incredibly difficult due to the lack of consideration and versatility in teaching styles.
The students are responsible for cleaning the board for the teacher and one student who serves as classroom manager is responsible for having a supply of chalk for the teacher and also of attempting to maintain order in the class – mostly by banging on the desk or hissing to quiet students down. Generally, there are far fewer discipline issues in these classes than in Canadian ones, students don’t act out aggressively or even actively challenge authority. What the teacher says is taken as fact. While the students still seem to learn quite a lot this makes for two huge disparities relative to students in Canada, at least so far as I am able to perceive. Firstly, students are not well equipped to think critically, about just about anything. To be fair I’m not sure how much critical thinking I learned in public school or if most of it came from university, but it is clear that nothing the teacher says in questioned and students are not encouraged to criticize information and ask why as much as students in Canada. Second, students almost completely and totally lack creativity. When I asked the students in the girls school to write something using the pictures of Canada as inspiration I got almost exclusively descriptions of what they saw in the pictures and perhaps a few very reasonable inferences. My encouragements to write a story, to “make something up about the man who lives in the lighthouse” were pretty much completely ignored. Even explaining that so long as they used English they could not possibly be wrong didn’t help. Students are concerned with having the correct answer and little else, and the nature of the schools encourages this pattern of thought.
As negative as this sounds, students tend to approach learning with an eagerness and tenacity distinctly lacking in nearly all their Canadian counterparts. Students generally pay close attention in class and take incredibly neat and complete notes. When a question is asked of the class students are eager to answer, nearly all of them raising their hands, calling quietly “me, teacher!” and making snapping noises with their fingers in hopes of being chosen to answer the question. The opportunity to write the answer on the board rather than simply reply orally only increases the collective excitement to demonstrate knowledge. Equally impressive is the tendency of students to be able answer questions on material taught only a day or two before, implying that studies are taken quite seriously by most and that students consider themselves as primarily responsible for their own learning.
Part of me suspects the eagerness to learn stems at least partly in the fact that education is not a given in Rwanda. Recently the government has said that each child has a right to seven years of primary education and, if I recall correctly, has made the first four of these years free (and I have been told that 90 to 95% of children now enroll in/complete these four years), but the fact remains that basic education in Rwanda has a cost which many families are unable to bear. Thus education is a privilege. I cannot say for certain that all students understand or are lead to believe this but it seems that they must realize at some point during their education that being able to attend classes rather than being required stay at home or to try and earn money makes them the fortunate ones.
The obvious question at the end of all this might be “how do we improve the quality of education in Rwanda (and Africa) and ensure that it reaches more children?” And that is indeed a valid and important question, one for which many individuals, governments and NGOs (millennium development goals, anyone?) are working to find a solution. Nonetheless, the question that keeps nagging and saddening me is “how do we get children and youth in North America to understand, appreciate and not squander the incredible gift they are given in universal public education?”
Friday, October 23, 2009
Friday September 18
Since Patrick was feeling ill today I took headed to the girls’ school to cover his English classes for him. With much help from the school’s headmistress I was able to determine Patrick’s schedule for the day and the girls were able to direct me from room to room leaving me to stumble my way through three English classes with no lesson and little plan.
On the walk back to UCK for lunch and a short nap before afternoon classes I was stopped by an old man who as sitting on his “porch” with several other men. With his few words of English, my few of Kinyarwanda and a larger mutual base in French we chatted for several minutes while the other men only looked on curiously. The man was very friendly and curious to learn more about where I was from and what brought me to Rwanda and even gave me a free Kinyarwanda lesson – teaching me that amakuru is “how are you?”
Armed with my Canadian calendar and an idea I was much more prepared for the afternoon classes I was to manage. I split the girls in each class into groups and asked them to write and then present something using the pictures as inspiration. I failed to account for how much explanation this would require from me – the girls had never seen (pictures of) lighthouses or grain elevators or even a very large bridge before.
The evening was passed in the English Centre with Patrick (feeling a little better) and Vivens and later at Landoo’s place over beer and brochette. We shared stories and discussed the cultural difference surrounding marriage between Rwanda and Canada. Of the biggest differences age was certainly one – girls often marry between 18 and 20 though the government made it illegal to marry before 21 in an effort to delay marriage and thus decrease the number of children each family has. In addition the difference in age between man and wife in Rwanda is often much greater than the one or two years that constitutes normal at home. The last major difference is prevalence of unmarried couples in Canada contrasted to their near non-existence here. This is partly because having children out of wedlock is still largely socially unacceptable but mostly because there is no “common law” legislation in Rwanda and should an unmarried couple separate the woman is typically left with nothing. It is only recently that legislation was passed to protect the children of such unions who were previously also left destitute.
Daily Smiles
- The girls with the picture of Saskatchewan asking “but where are the mountains?” and their visible confusion at my response that there are none.
- Patrick deciding beer was a much better cure for his cold than tea.
- “Sharing” a beer with Vivens which really meant that I drank ¾ of a big bottle of Mutzig.
- Waiting to meet Patrick on the bench outside Bona’s office. He was one hour late. Everyone crowding around me and saying “sorry, sorry” when they saw that I was bleeding a little as I had scratched my own forehead. Bona being upset that I sat outside his office and didn’t come in to say hi.
- The random man in the street, after teaching me amakuru and parting ways, yelling after me that I was very pretty as I walked away.
On the walk back to UCK for lunch and a short nap before afternoon classes I was stopped by an old man who as sitting on his “porch” with several other men. With his few words of English, my few of Kinyarwanda and a larger mutual base in French we chatted for several minutes while the other men only looked on curiously. The man was very friendly and curious to learn more about where I was from and what brought me to Rwanda and even gave me a free Kinyarwanda lesson – teaching me that amakuru is “how are you?”
Armed with my Canadian calendar and an idea I was much more prepared for the afternoon classes I was to manage. I split the girls in each class into groups and asked them to write and then present something using the pictures as inspiration. I failed to account for how much explanation this would require from me – the girls had never seen (pictures of) lighthouses or grain elevators or even a very large bridge before.
The evening was passed in the English Centre with Patrick (feeling a little better) and Vivens and later at Landoo’s place over beer and brochette. We shared stories and discussed the cultural difference surrounding marriage between Rwanda and Canada. Of the biggest differences age was certainly one – girls often marry between 18 and 20 though the government made it illegal to marry before 21 in an effort to delay marriage and thus decrease the number of children each family has. In addition the difference in age between man and wife in Rwanda is often much greater than the one or two years that constitutes normal at home. The last major difference is prevalence of unmarried couples in Canada contrasted to their near non-existence here. This is partly because having children out of wedlock is still largely socially unacceptable but mostly because there is no “common law” legislation in Rwanda and should an unmarried couple separate the woman is typically left with nothing. It is only recently that legislation was passed to protect the children of such unions who were previously also left destitute.
Daily Smiles
- The girls with the picture of Saskatchewan asking “but where are the mountains?” and their visible confusion at my response that there are none.
- Patrick deciding beer was a much better cure for his cold than tea.
- “Sharing” a beer with Vivens which really meant that I drank ¾ of a big bottle of Mutzig.
- Waiting to meet Patrick on the bench outside Bona’s office. He was one hour late. Everyone crowding around me and saying “sorry, sorry” when they saw that I was bleeding a little as I had scratched my own forehead. Bona being upset that I sat outside his office and didn’t come in to say hi.
- The random man in the street, after teaching me amakuru and parting ways, yelling after me that I was very pretty as I walked away.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Cultural Assimilation (September 16)
Today I had the morning off so after sleeping in I went for a long walk nearly all the way around town. I spent the afternoon at the girls’ school with Patrick as the centre of attention for a few English classes and observing a cation identification lab (which made me think so much of Shaun and Mr. Baetsen). Then after a short rest I went with Patrick, Vivens and his wife Clarisse to a very very nice pub for a drink and some BBQ (aka brochette) before blundering my way through another meal of French conversation with the visiting teachers, this time a little buzzed. I also realized that this place tires me out. I don’t mean I’m tired at the end of the day, I mean I’m tired all the time and feel as though I could pass out juts about any time anywhere. Maybe it’s the heat?
Cultural Differences
- Picking your nose is generally accepted behavior.
- If you want to catch someone’s attention, such as a waiter or someone across the street, hiss. It sounds like a cat about to scratch your eyes out but it’s very effective.
- Other noises are common parts of speech here, such as Ahhhh, eeeeeh and the raspberry sound. I’m not sure exactly what they all mean just yet, and I’m pretty sure it’s at least a little context dependent.
Daily Smiles
- Meeting the house maid’s mother at breakfast and attempting to navigate the awkward looking Rwandan half hug that’s really more of a mutual shoulder grab.
- Sponge bath number 2 – I’m getting better ?
- Two randome children who ran up to me and hugged the “muzungoo” as I was walking with Patrick to the girls’ school
- The girls completing many mini performances for me and their classes each of which was surrounded by full rounds of applause
- The girls insist that I make such mini performances as well resulting in me teaching them to sing “Head and shoulders, knees and toes” and reciting In Flanders’ Fields
- The girls in one class demanding that I try Rwandan traditional dance – EPIC FAIL!
Cultural Differences
- Picking your nose is generally accepted behavior.
- If you want to catch someone’s attention, such as a waiter or someone across the street, hiss. It sounds like a cat about to scratch your eyes out but it’s very effective.
- Other noises are common parts of speech here, such as Ahhhh, eeeeeh and the raspberry sound. I’m not sure exactly what they all mean just yet, and I’m pretty sure it’s at least a little context dependent.
Daily Smiles
- Meeting the house maid’s mother at breakfast and attempting to navigate the awkward looking Rwandan half hug that’s really more of a mutual shoulder grab.
- Sponge bath number 2 – I’m getting better ?
- Two randome children who ran up to me and hugged the “muzungoo” as I was walking with Patrick to the girls’ school
- The girls completing many mini performances for me and their classes each of which was surrounded by full rounds of applause
- The girls insist that I make such mini performances as well resulting in me teaching them to sing “Head and shoulders, knees and toes” and reciting In Flanders’ Fields
- The girls in one class demanding that I try Rwandan traditional dance – EPIC FAIL!
Embassy, Accident, Adventure? (September 15)
Today a group of us left UCK at about 8:30 am for Kigali. The group was composed of Patrick and myself, Leonard from ICT, one of the men from the finance department whose name I can’t recall all travelling in the UCK van with its driver. The purpose of the trip was to make a visit to the US Embassy who had granted $5000 USD to the English centre and then spend the money in Kigali on books and computers and other equipment for the centre.
After the ordeal of actually entering the embassy – think airport security complete with metal detectors and passport checks, except that you’re not allowed to bring anything electronic in with you, it must be left at the gate – we made our way to the embassy library. The library wasn’t very large but probably contained one of the largest collections of English books in the country and reminded me very much of the children’s section of the Pembina Trails Library from when I was little. Somehow it managed to communicate the same sense of childish wonder to me. It was in the library that we were met by Eddie, the American embassy worker that is the main contact with the UCK English Centre, and two of her staff members. Eddie was a nice jolly sort of lady who reminded me a lot of Bonnie from the post office at Shoppers. After shaking hands handing in a report making a little small talk and covering some of the terms of the grant Eddie and her staff walked us out and I was able to ask her a few questions. I learned that while she is originally from St. Louis she had not been home in quite some time as her to previous posts were in Honduras and Bolivia. The life of a foreign servant sounds incredibly cool to me and I wish I could have talked to her a little more. I suppose it would be more relevant for me to try and get in touch with someone at the Canadian Embassy who I might be able to have a chat with.
After that we went to RDB (Rwanda Development Board) and Patrick and I had tea in the office with Apollo. It was nice, though I must admit I felt a little awkward sitting on the couch in the middle of the office drinking tea with Patrick and Apollo while everyone else in the office remained working at their desks around the room (the office is based on an open concept with everyone’s desk facing the middle of one big room, yay for no cubicle city!).
After that we set about spending the money the US Embassy had given us (we had picked it up at the bank that morning before heading to Kigali). Mostly I just followed the men around the city at this point. We made stops in a computer store, an electronic store, Nakumatt and Simba supermarkets and at a few primary schools targeted at the children of ex-pats. I found the supermarkets very interesting. They reminded me of Walmart but in a smaller space with just as much stuff, if not more, stuffed inside. The supermarkets carry everything from liquor to groceries to electronics and furniture. They are not nearly as well branded, though you can see the beginnings of it, and there are about 10x the staff. Oh, and, the cashiers sit at their tills!!!
By far the most interesting thing that happened today was the car accident. Worry not, no one was hurt. While angle parked in downtown Kigali (it appears a little bit of Stoon followed me here) the back corner of the UCK van was clipped by a passing car, the force of which caused the van to rock in place. While everyone was dumbfounded Patrick asked, “What was that?” to which I said we’d just been hit and pointed to a small grey benz that as continuing to drive up the street.
Immediately after the accident at least 10 people were surrounding the injured corner of the van and offering to be itnesses, some even reciting the plate number of the car. Also, a moto driver that saw what happened took off after the driver of the benz. I’m not sure if the moto driver or Leonard (he’d gone running after the car) got to the benz first but either way he came back within a few minutes with Leonard in the passenger seat. The next step was to call the cops, who came and visited the site of a fender bender! Also, a man from a nearby garage was brought to assess the damages. Then the driver of the other car, who I soon learned was named Clement, got into the van and proceeded to spend half the afternoon running errands with us until the van could get into the shop. He even talked and joked with us and we gave one of his buddies a lift before the whole ordeal was over with and we dropped him back at his car.
Daily Smiles
- African time in terms of leaving Gitarama
- The entire car accident experience – I cannot imagine such a situation resulting in smiles and friends all around in Canada, only pissed people
- Complete randoms starting up conversations with me all day
- Eating a slightly off tasting burger in Simba Café just as I was really starting to miss food from home
- Not being allowed to help unload the van at the end of the day as there were clearly men present to do the lifting
- Rocking out to a CMT compilation of Dolly Parton music videos in the store where we purchased the stereo while they rain gave ‘er outside. The store owner was loving the old school country just as much as if not more than me!
After the ordeal of actually entering the embassy – think airport security complete with metal detectors and passport checks, except that you’re not allowed to bring anything electronic in with you, it must be left at the gate – we made our way to the embassy library. The library wasn’t very large but probably contained one of the largest collections of English books in the country and reminded me very much of the children’s section of the Pembina Trails Library from when I was little. Somehow it managed to communicate the same sense of childish wonder to me. It was in the library that we were met by Eddie, the American embassy worker that is the main contact with the UCK English Centre, and two of her staff members. Eddie was a nice jolly sort of lady who reminded me a lot of Bonnie from the post office at Shoppers. After shaking hands handing in a report making a little small talk and covering some of the terms of the grant Eddie and her staff walked us out and I was able to ask her a few questions. I learned that while she is originally from St. Louis she had not been home in quite some time as her to previous posts were in Honduras and Bolivia. The life of a foreign servant sounds incredibly cool to me and I wish I could have talked to her a little more. I suppose it would be more relevant for me to try and get in touch with someone at the Canadian Embassy who I might be able to have a chat with.
After that we went to RDB (Rwanda Development Board) and Patrick and I had tea in the office with Apollo. It was nice, though I must admit I felt a little awkward sitting on the couch in the middle of the office drinking tea with Patrick and Apollo while everyone else in the office remained working at their desks around the room (the office is based on an open concept with everyone’s desk facing the middle of one big room, yay for no cubicle city!).
After that we set about spending the money the US Embassy had given us (we had picked it up at the bank that morning before heading to Kigali). Mostly I just followed the men around the city at this point. We made stops in a computer store, an electronic store, Nakumatt and Simba supermarkets and at a few primary schools targeted at the children of ex-pats. I found the supermarkets very interesting. They reminded me of Walmart but in a smaller space with just as much stuff, if not more, stuffed inside. The supermarkets carry everything from liquor to groceries to electronics and furniture. They are not nearly as well branded, though you can see the beginnings of it, and there are about 10x the staff. Oh, and, the cashiers sit at their tills!!!
By far the most interesting thing that happened today was the car accident. Worry not, no one was hurt. While angle parked in downtown Kigali (it appears a little bit of Stoon followed me here) the back corner of the UCK van was clipped by a passing car, the force of which caused the van to rock in place. While everyone was dumbfounded Patrick asked, “What was that?” to which I said we’d just been hit and pointed to a small grey benz that as continuing to drive up the street.
Immediately after the accident at least 10 people were surrounding the injured corner of the van and offering to be itnesses, some even reciting the plate number of the car. Also, a moto driver that saw what happened took off after the driver of the benz. I’m not sure if the moto driver or Leonard (he’d gone running after the car) got to the benz first but either way he came back within a few minutes with Leonard in the passenger seat. The next step was to call the cops, who came and visited the site of a fender bender! Also, a man from a nearby garage was brought to assess the damages. Then the driver of the other car, who I soon learned was named Clement, got into the van and proceeded to spend half the afternoon running errands with us until the van could get into the shop. He even talked and joked with us and we gave one of his buddies a lift before the whole ordeal was over with and we dropped him back at his car.
Daily Smiles
- African time in terms of leaving Gitarama
- The entire car accident experience – I cannot imagine such a situation resulting in smiles and friends all around in Canada, only pissed people
- Complete randoms starting up conversations with me all day
- Eating a slightly off tasting burger in Simba Café just as I was really starting to miss food from home
- Not being allowed to help unload the van at the end of the day as there were clearly men present to do the lifting
- Rocking out to a CMT compilation of Dolly Parton music videos in the store where we purchased the stereo while they rain gave ‘er outside. The store owner was loving the old school country just as much as if not more than me!
The First Day of the Rest of My Life…Or At Least the Rest of the Month (September 14)
On the first day of “work” here at UCK I started by meeting with the Rector and Patrick and a few other staff members to discuss the objectives of my stay. I passed the remainer of my morning watching a video on TEFL, with one notable exception. A group of journalism and communication students at UCK who I had spotted eyeing me through the open door of the English Centre asked me to present my opinion on whether it is necessary to be a virgin before marriage. In French! On Camera! Since they were nice enough to ask me and since I wanted a break I decided to oblige them but wrote out what I wanted to say first and not trusting the French I hadn’t really practiced in about three years (Ben, I refuse to count your harassment) I asked one of the students to proofread it to make sure it at least made sense. Now I’m certain I blushed and mumbled and replaced every le with les and naturally they had to do a second take (which I’m pretty sure was worse, not better) as the first didn’t work but all the students clapped for me anyways.
After lunch with Patrick we went to the girls’ school where conversation club had been the day before. First we met with the school’s administration, the Director, Dean of Accounting and the Dean of Finance and Accounting, to finalize the way in which I would be of assistance to the staff at the school. Since the Rwandan government, in its effort to change the second official language of the country from French to English and garner itself a greater stake in the East African community, has mandated that at the start of the next school year in January all classes that would normally be taught in French must now be taught in English, it was to be my duty to observe the classes that are already taught in English (Senior 1 and Senior 4 classes) and do my best to come up with a few things I can share as a native English speaker that will ease the transition for the school. Thus I was sent to observe an English physics class where I became worried that I wouldn’t have much to contribute as the teacher’s English was already quite admirable.
After physics was a break between classes during which three girls from Senior 6 came up and introduced themselves and asked if I wanted to see their classroom. Before I knew it I was surrounded by girls asking questions, invading my bubble, touching my skin and hair and forcing me to test my memory of French. As their next class was English taught by Patrick I was placed at their mercy and became the centre of attention for yet another lecture.
When I returned to my room at UCK I met the housekeeper, though I didn’t realize it right away. That confusion was quickly resolved as she took me by the hand and excitedly introduced me to Jean Baptiste, the house boy, showed me the kitchen and all the produce she had just purchased and told me a bit about her 5 children. After clearing up the misunderstanding that I was the oldest of three children rather than a mother of three she sent me on my way with a plate of fruit, some toilet paper, a fresh bar of soap and a rechargeable lamp in case the power goes out. Little did she know when the power went out the day before I took that as a sign and went to bed!
That night, at a lovely late 9:45 pm, I shared my first meal with the visiting teachers who are staying in some of the other rooms here. For the most part I quite enjoyed myself and spent the meal practicing my French (all the teachers are fluent in French and much less comfortable with English though it turns out nearly all of them know at least a little). Unfortunately, most of the jokes were told in Kinyarwanda. All of the travelling staff members are very nice and friendly and seem to be making a conscious effort to make me feel welcome and a part of the group. I still miss the ease of hanging out with people who have a better grasp of English (it takes a lot of effort for me to focus on understanding a speaking French) and who are a little closer to my age. But nothing beats a crowded dinner table, regardless of whether or not I understand the conversation.
Daily Smiles
- All the people who look at me at say “good morning” but don’t say or possibly know any other English
- The students asking me to sing them a song in English. And then another one!
- All of the questions I get aked that in Canada ould be considered totally inappropriate, at least upon first meeting:
- How old are you?
- Are you married or single?
- At which church do you pray?
- The looks on the faces of the girls when I explained to them that in Canada girls generally don’t marry until 25 or even later
- The look on the face of the Director of the girls school as he tried to comprehend -40C and how all three school administrators were thoroughly convinced that going outside in such cold meant instant death
- Lamely attempting to explain winter sports to the night students. It’s kinda hard when snow and ice have no meaning.
- The excitement of the housekeeper to show me her workplace.
After lunch with Patrick we went to the girls’ school where conversation club had been the day before. First we met with the school’s administration, the Director, Dean of Accounting and the Dean of Finance and Accounting, to finalize the way in which I would be of assistance to the staff at the school. Since the Rwandan government, in its effort to change the second official language of the country from French to English and garner itself a greater stake in the East African community, has mandated that at the start of the next school year in January all classes that would normally be taught in French must now be taught in English, it was to be my duty to observe the classes that are already taught in English (Senior 1 and Senior 4 classes) and do my best to come up with a few things I can share as a native English speaker that will ease the transition for the school. Thus I was sent to observe an English physics class where I became worried that I wouldn’t have much to contribute as the teacher’s English was already quite admirable.
After physics was a break between classes during which three girls from Senior 6 came up and introduced themselves and asked if I wanted to see their classroom. Before I knew it I was surrounded by girls asking questions, invading my bubble, touching my skin and hair and forcing me to test my memory of French. As their next class was English taught by Patrick I was placed at their mercy and became the centre of attention for yet another lecture.
When I returned to my room at UCK I met the housekeeper, though I didn’t realize it right away. That confusion was quickly resolved as she took me by the hand and excitedly introduced me to Jean Baptiste, the house boy, showed me the kitchen and all the produce she had just purchased and told me a bit about her 5 children. After clearing up the misunderstanding that I was the oldest of three children rather than a mother of three she sent me on my way with a plate of fruit, some toilet paper, a fresh bar of soap and a rechargeable lamp in case the power goes out. Little did she know when the power went out the day before I took that as a sign and went to bed!
That night, at a lovely late 9:45 pm, I shared my first meal with the visiting teachers who are staying in some of the other rooms here. For the most part I quite enjoyed myself and spent the meal practicing my French (all the teachers are fluent in French and much less comfortable with English though it turns out nearly all of them know at least a little). Unfortunately, most of the jokes were told in Kinyarwanda. All of the travelling staff members are very nice and friendly and seem to be making a conscious effort to make me feel welcome and a part of the group. I still miss the ease of hanging out with people who have a better grasp of English (it takes a lot of effort for me to focus on understanding a speaking French) and who are a little closer to my age. But nothing beats a crowded dinner table, regardless of whether or not I understand the conversation.
Daily Smiles
- All the people who look at me at say “good morning” but don’t say or possibly know any other English
- The students asking me to sing them a song in English. And then another one!
- All of the questions I get aked that in Canada ould be considered totally inappropriate, at least upon first meeting:
- How old are you?
- Are you married or single?
- At which church do you pray?
- The looks on the faces of the girls when I explained to them that in Canada girls generally don’t marry until 25 or even later
- The look on the face of the Director of the girls school as he tried to comprehend -40C and how all three school administrators were thoroughly convinced that going outside in such cold meant instant death
- Lamely attempting to explain winter sports to the night students. It’s kinda hard when snow and ice have no meaning.
- The excitement of the housekeeper to show me her workplace.
Dinner at the Diocese (September 13)
On my first Sunday in Rwanda and in Gitarama I was invited, with Patrick escorting me, to attend dinner with the Rector of UCK. The Rector met Patrick and I at the university where we passed about a half hour in his office getting acquainted before we piled into his SUV and drove to the rectory. Now I’m not sure what I was expecting the residence of the rector of a university to be like but somehow it didn’t quite occur to me that he would be living in a large stone building next to the cathedral with many other priests. Surely that is ignorance. Nonetheless I thought dinner with one priest in his home was intimidating until I was introduced one by one to the several others who also live in the rectory.
Being that I was terrified I was going to display insufficient table manners for dinner in such a setting I think I managed to survive relatively blunder free (Thanks, Mom). I did feel foolish when I sat in the chair I was directed to only to realize that grace is said while still standing behind your chair, thus I quickly rose and bowed my head. Just after we sat down and dished out the food one last person entered the room for dinner – none other than the Bishop of Kabgayi. Selecting the free chair directly across from me he said his prayer and sat down to enjoy his meal. As many meals here are served with beer the Bishop proceeded to offer me one and open it. In some cruel comedy of errors the beer foamed rather viciously when the cap was removed creating a minor spectacle as we both awkwardly tried to keep it from making a huge mess. To make things better, as soon as I thought the crisis as averted it started again! And then just to prove that my reality is especially warped the Bishop busts out his cell phone and starts making a couple calls in the middle of dinner!
There are moments in my life where my circumstances suddenly strike me as ridiculous or odd or extremely unlikely and one thought quickly overtakes my mind: how on Earth did I get here? At which point I usually take a virtual tour of the path of my life, noting the forks at which my choice of turn lead me to the current moment and I relish in the beauty of its improbability. In these moments, more often than not, I feel incredibly fortunate.
Eating dinner across from the Bishop of Kabgayi was definitely one of those moments.
Culture Shock
Everyone here answers their cell phones everywhere! At dinner, in class. Even the teachers and the Bishop. That this is perfectly acceptable behavior will take some getting used to. And I’m not sure I’ll like it.
Being that I was terrified I was going to display insufficient table manners for dinner in such a setting I think I managed to survive relatively blunder free (Thanks, Mom). I did feel foolish when I sat in the chair I was directed to only to realize that grace is said while still standing behind your chair, thus I quickly rose and bowed my head. Just after we sat down and dished out the food one last person entered the room for dinner – none other than the Bishop of Kabgayi. Selecting the free chair directly across from me he said his prayer and sat down to enjoy his meal. As many meals here are served with beer the Bishop proceeded to offer me one and open it. In some cruel comedy of errors the beer foamed rather viciously when the cap was removed creating a minor spectacle as we both awkwardly tried to keep it from making a huge mess. To make things better, as soon as I thought the crisis as averted it started again! And then just to prove that my reality is especially warped the Bishop busts out his cell phone and starts making a couple calls in the middle of dinner!
There are moments in my life where my circumstances suddenly strike me as ridiculous or odd or extremely unlikely and one thought quickly overtakes my mind: how on Earth did I get here? At which point I usually take a virtual tour of the path of my life, noting the forks at which my choice of turn lead me to the current moment and I relish in the beauty of its improbability. In these moments, more often than not, I feel incredibly fortunate.
Eating dinner across from the Bishop of Kabgayi was definitely one of those moments.
Culture Shock
Everyone here answers their cell phones everywhere! At dinner, in class. Even the teachers and the Bishop. That this is perfectly acceptable behavior will take some getting used to. And I’m not sure I’ll like it.
Monday, October 5, 2009
English Club
On my first morning in Gitarama, the Sunday after I arrived in Rwanda, I met Patrick and a few of the UCK students in the English Centre to head to an all girls secondary school for English conversation club. We walked from the uni to the secondary school, a distance that in Canada surely would have been driven, though it was far from impossible. The biggest difference is that people here walk very slowly - I think because it is so hot and because no one's ever really in a hurry.
The English club consists of about 40 students as well as one of the school's support staff. Three UCK students come along to help Patrick and to get some extra practice in. The girls are all very sweet and were very excited to see a new and exciting face. A few of them came up and introduced themselves to me before class started.
The class/club started with my introducing myself and then the students being given free range to ask me questions. They asked about why I came to Rwanda and how long I was planning to stay, about my schooling and my family and they asked two questions that I have learned are very popular here though they are largely socially unacceptable at home: how old are you? and are you single/married/engaged? After finding out I was single and receiving an unsatisfactory answer as to why it was so one of the girls asked if she could find me a Rwandan husband. While this caused the entire room to errupt into laughter (and I'm fairly certain me to turn bright red). Unfortunately, a good laugh was not enough for this girl to let me off the hook and I was forced to stumble through an explanation of how Canadians like to choose their own husbands and that I consider 23 young to get married (contrast to the unofficial weddings that often occur her for girls at the age of 18 or 19). Little did I know it but this would be the beginning of a pattern of the questions asked by people when I first meet them.
After grilling me class moved on to practice of the things they had learned in previous weeks and concluded a few minutes early, which prompted some of the students to give mini performances in front of the class. Each performance was met by not only applause but also woops and hollers. One of the girls sang what was apparently a very popular song is it sparked a whole class sing-a-long which I was too slow to catch with my camera.
After meeting some of the administrators of the girls' school Patrick and I went for lunch and I was given some time to rest etc before dinner with the rector of the university. I used my break time to visit an internet cafe and to give myself a sponge bath, which I haven't done in years but will have to get used to as it's fairly common for the water here to stop running.
On feelings and observations:
Writing home today was tough. It's kind of terrible to think that I didn't really miss home until I'd been gone almost a week but I'll blame it on being very nervous while travelling and then being so overwhelmed with meeting new people and taking in such new and different surroundings. Realizing just how much I miss my family while attempting to write an email had me working pretty hard to blink away tears. I suppose that's what they call homesickness. Listening to music from home on my computer helps but I'm very much looking forward to that first skype/phone call!
I get stared at a lot. More so in Gitarama than in Kigali. It gets old. When kids shout "muzungoo" it's kinda cute and funny but when I hear adults refer to me that way I get kinda annoyed - your grown, shouldn't you be able to see beyond the colour of my skin?
Also, I think I understand a little better now how interns feel upon first arriving in a new country (or in Saskatoon). I was completely dependent on Hannah/Tina/Bogee in Kigali as I never had any idea where I was and knew essentially none of the language. Now in Gitarama, I am all but completely dependent on Patrick. I am getting better, I've learned where a few things are in the city and understand some of the customs but I'm still fairly useless. It's being caught between a rock and a hard place - you'd rather not admit your dependence, not even to yourself, and you certainly don't want to repel or annoy or inconvenience the person helping you but you are uncertain of how to do just about everthing so you have to, but if you annoy them off and they ditch then you're totally screwed. (You hear that Stoon? - for the first couple weeks the intern probably needs you for everything but are scared to ask so just do it without asking and with a huge smile, k? Oh, and talk to them every day!)
Daily Smiles
- "Can I find you a Rwandan husband?"
- "Why aren't you engaged? But why?"
- Seeing goats tethered to the ground and grazing outside someone's house and thinking "only in Africa." Then remembering all the fuss about having a few chickens in your back yard in Toronto. Shortly thereafter seeing oxen tethered in a similar fashion.
The English club consists of about 40 students as well as one of the school's support staff. Three UCK students come along to help Patrick and to get some extra practice in. The girls are all very sweet and were very excited to see a new and exciting face. A few of them came up and introduced themselves to me before class started.
The class/club started with my introducing myself and then the students being given free range to ask me questions. They asked about why I came to Rwanda and how long I was planning to stay, about my schooling and my family and they asked two questions that I have learned are very popular here though they are largely socially unacceptable at home: how old are you? and are you single/married/engaged? After finding out I was single and receiving an unsatisfactory answer as to why it was so one of the girls asked if she could find me a Rwandan husband. While this caused the entire room to errupt into laughter (and I'm fairly certain me to turn bright red). Unfortunately, a good laugh was not enough for this girl to let me off the hook and I was forced to stumble through an explanation of how Canadians like to choose their own husbands and that I consider 23 young to get married (contrast to the unofficial weddings that often occur her for girls at the age of 18 or 19). Little did I know it but this would be the beginning of a pattern of the questions asked by people when I first meet them.
After grilling me class moved on to practice of the things they had learned in previous weeks and concluded a few minutes early, which prompted some of the students to give mini performances in front of the class. Each performance was met by not only applause but also woops and hollers. One of the girls sang what was apparently a very popular song is it sparked a whole class sing-a-long which I was too slow to catch with my camera.
After meeting some of the administrators of the girls' school Patrick and I went for lunch and I was given some time to rest etc before dinner with the rector of the university. I used my break time to visit an internet cafe and to give myself a sponge bath, which I haven't done in years but will have to get used to as it's fairly common for the water here to stop running.
On feelings and observations:
Writing home today was tough. It's kind of terrible to think that I didn't really miss home until I'd been gone almost a week but I'll blame it on being very nervous while travelling and then being so overwhelmed with meeting new people and taking in such new and different surroundings. Realizing just how much I miss my family while attempting to write an email had me working pretty hard to blink away tears. I suppose that's what they call homesickness. Listening to music from home on my computer helps but I'm very much looking forward to that first skype/phone call!
I get stared at a lot. More so in Gitarama than in Kigali. It gets old. When kids shout "muzungoo" it's kinda cute and funny but when I hear adults refer to me that way I get kinda annoyed - your grown, shouldn't you be able to see beyond the colour of my skin?
Also, I think I understand a little better now how interns feel upon first arriving in a new country (or in Saskatoon). I was completely dependent on Hannah/Tina/Bogee in Kigali as I never had any idea where I was and knew essentially none of the language. Now in Gitarama, I am all but completely dependent on Patrick. I am getting better, I've learned where a few things are in the city and understand some of the customs but I'm still fairly useless. It's being caught between a rock and a hard place - you'd rather not admit your dependence, not even to yourself, and you certainly don't want to repel or annoy or inconvenience the person helping you but you are uncertain of how to do just about everthing so you have to, but if you annoy them off and they ditch then you're totally screwed. (You hear that Stoon? - for the first couple weeks the intern probably needs you for everything but are scared to ask so just do it without asking and with a huge smile, k? Oh, and talk to them every day!)
Daily Smiles
- "Can I find you a Rwandan husband?"
- "Why aren't you engaged? But why?"
- Seeing goats tethered to the ground and grazing outside someone's house and thinking "only in Africa." Then remembering all the fuss about having a few chickens in your back yard in Toronto. Shortly thereafter seeing oxen tethered in a similar fashion.
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