Murakaza Neza: Education 4 Pre-Service Training
By Elisabeth J Turner
The sun was shining as 34 Peace Corps Trainees drove through the hills of Rwanda from Kigali to our new home in Kamonyi District. We landed in-country less than two days before – jet-lagged and dizzy with excitement, nerves and utterly overwhelmed. As we bumped along the red dirt roads, past the tree said to mark the very center of Rwanda, huge
raindrops started to fall. It was pouring when the cars finally stopped outside the tall, green hedges surrounding the Peace Corps training Hub. Scrambling for our rain coats and carrying overweight luggage, we ran for cover, trying not to fall in the slippery mud.
raindrops started to fall. It was pouring when the cars finally stopped outside the tall, green hedges surrounding the Peace Corps training Hub. Scrambling for our rain coats and carrying overweight luggage, we ran for cover, trying not to fall in the slippery mud.
We dropped our bags and walked to the back of the training house. We passed through a door to the outside where we stood under a beige tarp, the rain beating a deafening sound above us. Chairs and colorfully-dressed, smiling Rwandans crammed the small space. We squeezed into thirty chairs and chatted nervously as the Rwandans greeted and smiled from across the room. They seemed just as nervously excited as us.
A petite woman with short, curly hair finally calmed the energetic crowd, her soft voice barely audible over the heavy rain; though it mattered little as our Kinyarwanda language skills only encompassed greetings, and that was used up in the first five seconds. Soon, she switched to speak English and made introductions of the various Peace Corps training staff, explained the different villages where we would live, and then, she introduced us to our host families - the people we would live with for the next three months.
A Rwandan name was called, they stood, grinning, waiting to hear their new trainee’s name. The two met in the center of the crowded tent and the family enveloped the nervous trainee in a three-cheek kiss and huge hug as the rest of the crowd cheered and laughed. The rain was forgotten as the greetings continued; overwhelmed by the joy of the crowd as each trainee was welcomed into his or her new Rwandan family. After all of the families received their new son or daughter, the seats were rearranged and Fantas were brought to celebrate.
The language barrier prevented long talks with the family, and soon both Rwandans and Americans, returned to their own language and friends. Every trainee anticipated the big move into the family’s house with a mix of amusement and courage. And so it began – our new life in Rwanda. We were terrified, excited and felt like we could conquer the world. Then, we were taken to our houses, in the pouring rain with a family who spoke little to no English who we only just met, and our courage waned just a bit.
A petite woman with short, curly hair finally calmed the energetic crowd, her soft voice barely audible over the heavy rain; though it mattered little as our Kinyarwanda language skills only encompassed greetings, and that was used up in the first five seconds. Soon, she switched to speak English and made introductions of the various Peace Corps training staff, explained the different villages where we would live, and then, she introduced us to our host families - the people we would live with for the next three months.
A Rwandan name was called, they stood, grinning, waiting to hear their new trainee’s name. The two met in the center of the crowded tent and the family enveloped the nervous trainee in a three-cheek kiss and huge hug as the rest of the crowd cheered and laughed. The rain was forgotten as the greetings continued; overwhelmed by the joy of the crowd as each trainee was welcomed into his or her new Rwandan family. After all of the families received their new son or daughter, the seats were rearranged and Fantas were brought to celebrate.
The language barrier prevented long talks with the family, and soon both Rwandans and Americans, returned to their own language and friends. Every trainee anticipated the big move into the family’s house with a mix of amusement and courage. And so it began – our new life in Rwanda. We were terrified, excited and felt like we could conquer the world. Then, we were taken to our houses, in the pouring rain with a family who spoke little to no English who we only just met, and our courage waned just a bit.
For the next three months, 34 trainees were on a cross-culture roller coaster ride. Sometimes thrilled with new accomplishments and sometimes depressed with thoughts of home; we gained squatting muscles and ate new, occasionally gross, foods; we conquered bucket baths and learned to wash clothes by hand.
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As our language skills grew, we went from fearing an evening with our host families to looking forward to simple kitchen conversation or a random dance party as we discovered a mutual love for Michael Jackson.
We endured long days of training and sleepless nights on thin mattresses and squeaky beds. There was illness and injury – bug bites and diarrhea. We taught children to fist bump and went from being called ‘umuzungu’ to being called by our names from every yard as we walked through town. We ate brochettes, potatoes and our weight’s worth in peanuts. We navigated the chaos of the weekly markets and became less terrified of the local transportation. We hiked to the rocky hills, got lost in the beauty of the morning fog, became drenched in sudden downpours and sweated in the midday sun. We played cards so many times that we learned our competition too well.
Three months later, we again found ourselves underneath the same tarp where we first met our host families. The sun was shining brightly, peanuts were roasting on the training Hub’s stove and trainees were scattered around - some finishing their final language test and some eating goat brochettes at the local bar. Many were dressed in new, handmade Rwandan dresses, all made of brightly colored igitenge.
In the afternoon, host family members trickled underneath the tarp, this time to be greeted warmly by their trainees. When the seats were mostly full, Alphonsine took her place in the center, her curls a halo around her head, her soft voice carried well thanks to the absence of rain. Now, we understood more than only the first five seconds of her introduction. Now, the excitement in the air wasn’t competing with fear, instead it was competing with a presence of sadness.
In three months, we had successfully lived in a Rwandan village, we built bonds with the people sitting under the tarp and we had created a home. But, on this day, we were going to say goodbye. Six trainees gave speeches - two in each of the three national languages – Kinyarwanda, French and English. Each speech shared a mix of gratitude, memories and motivation. It was a bittersweet time, but we anticipated what good things and new adventures would come in the future. A few days later, we took the oath and became Peace Corps Volunteers without fear or anxiety about what might lie ahead. We knew there would be challenges, but we also had confidence we did not have before Kamonyi. Our host families taught us and prepared us for our lives ahead, similar to how our actual families prepared us before we ever left The States on a plane to Africa.
Now, as we shared Fantas to the sound of a soft, afternoon rain, we said goodbye to our host families. And this time, we hugged them not as strangers, but as sons and daughters, ready to begin our lives in Rwanda.
We endured long days of training and sleepless nights on thin mattresses and squeaky beds. There was illness and injury – bug bites and diarrhea. We taught children to fist bump and went from being called ‘umuzungu’ to being called by our names from every yard as we walked through town. We ate brochettes, potatoes and our weight’s worth in peanuts. We navigated the chaos of the weekly markets and became less terrified of the local transportation. We hiked to the rocky hills, got lost in the beauty of the morning fog, became drenched in sudden downpours and sweated in the midday sun. We played cards so many times that we learned our competition too well.
Three months later, we again found ourselves underneath the same tarp where we first met our host families. The sun was shining brightly, peanuts were roasting on the training Hub’s stove and trainees were scattered around - some finishing their final language test and some eating goat brochettes at the local bar. Many were dressed in new, handmade Rwandan dresses, all made of brightly colored igitenge.
In the afternoon, host family members trickled underneath the tarp, this time to be greeted warmly by their trainees. When the seats were mostly full, Alphonsine took her place in the center, her curls a halo around her head, her soft voice carried well thanks to the absence of rain. Now, we understood more than only the first five seconds of her introduction. Now, the excitement in the air wasn’t competing with fear, instead it was competing with a presence of sadness.
In three months, we had successfully lived in a Rwandan village, we built bonds with the people sitting under the tarp and we had created a home. But, on this day, we were going to say goodbye. Six trainees gave speeches - two in each of the three national languages – Kinyarwanda, French and English. Each speech shared a mix of gratitude, memories and motivation. It was a bittersweet time, but we anticipated what good things and new adventures would come in the future. A few days later, we took the oath and became Peace Corps Volunteers without fear or anxiety about what might lie ahead. We knew there would be challenges, but we also had confidence we did not have before Kamonyi. Our host families taught us and prepared us for our lives ahead, similar to how our actual families prepared us before we ever left The States on a plane to Africa.
Now, as we shared Fantas to the sound of a soft, afternoon rain, we said goodbye to our host families. And this time, we hugged them not as strangers, but as sons and daughters, ready to begin our lives in Rwanda.