Noheli Nziza!

It’s definitely not the Christmas I’m used to, but it will definitely be one I never forget. So I’ve traded in warm cookies right out of the oven and presents under the tree for a campfire version of semi-cookie dough and random findings from shops haphazardly wrapped in scrap paper. And I can’t help but think – as cheesy as it sounds – what is the meaning of Christmas?

Well you all know that story, but what I’m getting at is that holidays are the one consistent thing in this world. No matter where you are, no matter how you celebrate, people are all experiencing the same feelings and emotions. People are still grateful for their loved ones. It is on this Christmas in particular, where I am far from my friends and family, that I am grateful for them. But most importantly, I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn that it doesn’t matter if you wrap a gift in expensive wrapping paper, or an old toilet paper wrapper, what’s inside is exactly the same. This day; this whole theology, is fascinating. Before I began my freshman year of college, I had an interview with the man that would become my academic advisor for the next four years, and possible life advisor for the rest. He asked me why I wanted to study graphic design, and I struggled to think of some sophisticated answer that would make him think highly of me. After several awkward pauses, I said that I wanted to become a designer because art is the only universal language. It’s the only thing that resonates with all of us, despite your culture, background, language, whatever. Sure, there can be different connotations attached to specific groups of people, but on the fundamental level, it is the visual world that takes precedence in life before we even learn how to speak. I wanted to know that in life I would be helping to sustain that world; the arena of the eyes.

Being abroad on Christmas has made me think of this again. Africa has proved to sustain my beliefs as well. I’ve been so fortunate in life; I tried to imagine ways that I could help others less fortunate. I just never stopped to think that those people I considered less fortunate did not actually consider themselves to be the same. In my experience abroad, I’ve found that as long as you are able to celebrate with your health and with your loved ones, you are fortunate. It’s a parable that I’ve heard in a jillion commercials, greeting cards and advertisements in the past. It didn’t feel like an absolute truth until just now.

Post party plans? I have about one more week of intensive training before I swear in as an official volunteer with the United States Peace Corps. That means interviews, sessions, studying, tests and saying goodbyes as I pack up all of my stuff and head out to site. I feel like an egg waiting to hatch. I feel like a kid waiting for Santa. It feels like it’s Christmas Day and I only have a week left until I do the thing that I came here to do, finally. Oh wait, that last ones true. It’s a good feeling:]

I hope that all of you are spending the holidays with your favorite people in the world. I might not be, but I’m doing something else great because of the love and support from those people. I’m not saying my family is better than yours or anything…(even though they totally are!) Just trying to let them know how much I care about them, as if they didn’t already know. Especially my nephew, who solely relies on the visual world.

With that being said, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

The Rain that Cried Wolf

I can remember about 6 weeks ago I was torn over whether or not I should invest in a raincoat for my trip to Rwanda. I knew that I would be arriving during the start of the rainy season, but I also heard from several other volunteer blogs that raincoats were useful in theory, but a good umbrella would suffice. My bank account was definitely leaning towards the umbrella, but after some persuasion from my parents I decided to go for the coat.

Fast forward to landing in Rwanda – the air was thick with moisture and dust, it was humid but not necessarily rainy. For the first few days there would be a shower mid-afternoon for about 3 minutes, then sunshine the rest of the day. I thought my raincoat was obsolete. And then it happened. A group of females including myself went to one trainee’s house to do some yoga before dinner. The sky turned black and the wind whistled through trees like trains through a tunnel. Then what can only be described as Biblical rains fell violently from the sky. There was no escaping it, water flooded from every direction, it was an umbrella’s worst fear. But that didn’t matter, because I didn’t have my umbrella with me. It was tucked away in my room at home, along with my raincoat that I so cavalierly tossed to the side. Never again. I wrapped my button down shirt around my head and barrel hugged my knapsack as I proceeded to sprint up a hill that was spewing water and mud my way. I had less than a mile to travel, but that was all it took to soak me to the bone. Since that day it has rained nearly every day, and into the night, and into the morning, and so on. You won’t catch me without my raingear again.

And now I’ve learned to love the rain. I love the way it seems to bring renewed life to botanicals and how calming it sounds pinging off my roof as I lay my head down for sleep. If I’m lucky, I’ll even see a rainbow. The rain makes me appreciate the beating sun, and it gives me an excuse to stay in bed for 5 more minutes. I can only anticipate what the dry season will bring.

The Anti Atkins Diet.

Greetings from the other side!I am officially moved in to my PCT house in Nyanza, Rwanda. Pre service training is located near more amenities than I thought I would have, so adjusting to Rwandan life has been just fine. This country truly is the land of 1000 hills, and there are breathtaking views of rolling hills for miles and miles. The scenary definitely makes my walk to class worthwhile. We've just entered the rainy season here in Rwanda, which means it is sunny and gorgeous all morning, with a 3 minute passing shower in the afternoon. Oh, and it peaks at 70 degrees. Not too humid, not too dry, this climate is a dream.


Every morning I wake up tp a rooster crowing outside my window, take a relaxing bucket bath in our outdoor bath house, and get ready for a 10 minute stroll to the training compound. There we get breakfast and lunch (is this Peace Corps!?) and have our classes throughout the day. Sometimes in the evening we have dinner together at the comound, and on the other days we walk to our resource families (we do not live with host families, but we each have a resource family that we spend several days with each week for dinner, quality time, etc.) for dinner. One truth remains constant though, no matter where you eat, you can be certain that you will digest your own weight in straight carbohydrates. Potatoes, bread, rice, and even pasta are all typical to have each day, usually together. I might even eat them 3 times a day. All this starch seemed to sit in my stomach like a rock for the first few days, but I can tell mz body is accomodating to the new diet. It also helps that I eat around the same time each day. On the plus side a vegetarian diet is easily sustainable here, there are plenty of legumes and eggs for protein. I particularly love one popular side dish called isombe, which is a mashed up cassava leaf paste that reminds me of arugala and spinach. It nicely compliments the copious amounts of umuceri (rice) that I am always eating. Rwandans also have a special 'hot sauce' called usembe, which is basically a hot pepper oil. One or two drops are enough to make my whole plate worthy of Garfielding. I'm always trying to add spice to my life. We just learned how to prepare our own food using our small portable coal stoves. It is a process, usually 3 to 4 hours long. Uhhh, Easy Mac, anyone? I totally appreciate the food that is provided to me either from the compound or my resource family. I also understand why a lot of Rwandans, regardless of income, pay someone to either clean their house or do their laundry or both, dinner takes a lot of energy. No wonder they chow on carbs.

1.5 years in the making

It is hard to believe that I first applied for Peace Corps service 17 months ago. And oh, what a treacherous road it has been. I'm sure I wore a few of you down with my incessant protests about whatever hoop the Peace Corps was making me jump through from week to week. Seemingly insignificant now, the application process is definitely, well, a process. That is why I have to thank each and every one of you that supported my choice to serve in the PC. It was your encouragement that perpetuated my persistence. Persistence that earned the opportunity to serve as an English Education volunteer in Rwanda. You know how contestants on the Price is Right act when they discover that they have just won a new car in the final showcase? This is how I felt when I received my invitation for service. I had won the lottery. And I had an abundance of gratitude for every individual that helped me "win", in one way or another.


Which brings me here, the day before my departure to Philadelphia for orientation, and final departure from the United States. I look forward to meeting my fellow trainees and PC staff. I'm excited to experience Rwanda from every standpoint. But mostly, I am so anxious to be a part of something that I need, while being needed in return. Seventeen months ago I requested Sub-Saharan Africa as my region of choice, although I would have been honored to serve anywhere. After being nominated (the last stage in the application process before medical evaluation and final invitation) for the Pacific Islands region I had digested the fact that Africa was not available. So when I received my final invitation for Rwanda, I felt like I was making the clearest decision of my life. Instead of asking me if I was comfortable serving in an African nation my placement officer might as well have asked if I was comfortable having my dreams come true. Finally all my rationalizing of the PC was brought to the table.


Rwanda is located in Eastern Africa near the equator but it is decently mountainous so the climate is a somewhat steady 65 degrees year round. It's often referred to as the Land of a Thousand Hills because of its mountains. The seasons alternate between wet and dry, and I will be arriving at the beginning of the rainy season. I will be living in housing that has electricity and indoor plumbing with several other volunteers. Three months of pre-service training precede official volunteer service, and this will include intense language acquisition of the local language, Kinyarwanda, as well as various teaching methodology. Once I am sworn in as a volunteer, I will be teaching English as a Second Language year round. What once was considered an elective in public school, English has recently become the official language of education instruction. Teaching ESL will prepare students for the necessary higher education that they would otherwise not be eligible for.


What is important to remember is that I am going to learn more than I am going to teach. This assignment is only the second group of education volunteers to return to Rwanda since evacuation (due to the civil war) in 1993. The Rwandan government is concerned with reestablishing a society of civilized, educated people with no awareness of race or affiliation. Their ambitious plans to execute these matters are being sped along by changing the official teaching language to English. English is the catalyst in this equation. I was informed of how frustrating the sudden switch to English was in a francophone country. And with an overwhelming generation of orphans due to the war, the success of this assignment is critical. It's easy to see how great of a need exists here, and it's easy to commit to such a positive design.


I'm ready to laugh, struggle, smile, cry, strive, and serve. It's on like donkey kong, Rwanda. See you in a few.