I’ve been back in Rwanda for a week now, after a nearly month-long trip to the U.S. I’m thrilled I was able to go home for the holidays and see my family and friends, and, while leaving was hard (as it always is), it has been nice to be back.
On December 10th, I took the three-hour bus ride from Nyagatare to Kigali and met up with fellow Peace Corps Volunteers for coffee at Magda and pizza at Sol e Luna, before heading to Kigali International Airport to catch the red-eye to Amsterdam. As this was my first flight out of Kigali, I didn’t know what to expect at the airport. I was pleasantly surprised by the free and speedy wireless Internet, but the airport was overall less fancy than I would have expected, especially given the number of bazungu in this country. In every developing-country airport I’ve been to (with the possible exception of the one in Dakar, pre-renovation), I’ve been surprised (if not completely shocked!) at how nice they’ve been and how much they’ve had to offer. Bagel shop in San Salvador, McDonald’s in Guatemala City, delicious cafés in Entebbe and Casablanca! But Kigali’s, being more like what you might expect, was small and empty, save for a small bar, a duty-free store, and two souvenir shops (one of which was closed) – all of which, as well as the only bathrooms, were located before security. Speaking of which, I got taken into a private room for a pat-down after I set off the metal detector – first time that’s ever happened!
Anyhow, the plane was nearly empty when we took off, but we picked up the remaining three-quarters or so of Amsterdam-bound passengers about thirty minutes later, when we touched down in Entebbe. The rest of the trip was uneventful, until early the next afternoon. Minneapolis had just been bombarded by a huge snowstorm, effectively shutting down the airport. We circled in the air above the Twin Cities for an hour or so, hoping the airport would re-open, until we had nearly run out of fuel and had to re-route to Detroit. I was annoyed by the consequent five-hour wait in line (as hundreds and hundreds of stranded Delta passengers who had gotten there before me re-booked their flights), and I was disappointed by the realization that I would not be making it home that night. But, I was also relieved to simply blend in and not be stared at, and Delta’s offer of a room at the Hilton Garden and $20 in food vouchers went a long way toward making up for the disappointment. If I couldn’t be with my family, at least I could enjoy hot running water, hi-speed Internet, 30 English-language TV stations, and room service! The next day, following the world’s longest layover in Minneapolis (during which I indulged in a massage, feasted on a bagel, and bought my mom a Christmas gift at The Body Shop), I finally made it to Great Falls. Only about 30 hours late.
During the trip and for the first couple days in Great Falls, the sheer amount of choices was a bit overwhelming. What store should I go to first? What kind of latte do I want? What TV station should I watch? Where do I want to eat? What do I want to order? What book jacket should I read? My shock at the seeming excess of choices wore off fairly quickly, but the pleasure of having them did not.
Being able to understand what everyone said and not being constantly stared at, talked about, judged, or called muzungu was simply glorious. Really. If there’s one thing I was unprepared for coming into the Peace Corps, it’s how much constantly being the center of attention wears on you. I never thought it could become so stressful or irritating, especially since it hasn’t bothered me much during my other experiences in Africa. But, when you’re the only white person around and you deal with it day in and day out for months on end, it just really runs you down. Anyhow, not being a spectacle 24/7 was honestly one of the best things about being in the U.S.
Being really clean was also extremely pleasant. Bucket showers are not nearly as bad as people who haven’t experienced them seem to believe, and they can be downright refreshing. But, nothing gets you feeling clean like hot water shooting with pressure out of a showerhead. Similarly, handwashing clothes isn’t so bad, but nothing beats a washing machine when it comes to level of cleanliness. Tossing them in the dryer afterward is just a bonus. Plus, when roads are paved, dirt doesn’t fall out of the ceiling at random, and dust doesn’t whirl through the air and eventually coat everything, it’s a lot easier to stay clean. My feet were an entirely different color in the U.S. than they have been during the past ten months.
Also exciting was the gym. If I wanted to exercise here, I’d have to go running outside, which honestly would cause a bigger scene than I can begin to describe. Would you want to go for a run through town if every single person dropped what they were doing to watch you, then laughed at you and turned to their friends to talk about you, and half the children started chasing you? Some Volunteers do it, but I am not one of them. With that in mind, being able to exercise in peace was great, as was the presence of ellipticals and weight machines and the option of watching House Hunters and Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations while exercising. Plus, my gym at home has floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall and overlooks a valley that was snow-covered the entire time I was there.
A hodge-podge of other joys: The cell phone network always work, rather than sporadically being “busy” and refusing to allow you to make a call. The Internet is fast – I watched videos online, downloaded countless movies and podasts, and updated all my software. People are on time, and when they said they will do something or be somewhere, they generally mean it. Restaurants – you can assume it won’t take an hour to bring your food, that everything on the menu will actually be available, and that whatever you have will be about the same as it was the last time you had it. Snow is beautiful. Movie theaters are cool (even if How Do You Know? isn’t that great), and movie theater popcorn is delicious.
There’s nothing like being at home for the holidays, and being able to see my family and friends after ten months was truly a blessing. For the most part, things in the U.S. were about what I had been expecting. I think I readjusted really quickly, and after a couple days, it felt like I’d been in the U.S. forever. I was extremely excited about a lot of seemingly mundane things, but I certainly wasn’t unable to cope. Part of that, I think, is that, the more you go back and forth between developed and undeveloped places (including travels from village to capital city as well as from Africa to America), the less each trip shocks you. Since I’ve been going back and forth from Kigali to Nyagatare about once a month all year, and since this was my third time returning home from living in Africa, it wasn’t as shocking as it might have been. Also, Rwanda is frankly not that poor. It’s not that underdeveloped, there’s not that much you can’t find, nobody is that isolated. So, the gap just isn’t as big. Is Bourbon really that different from Starbucks? Is Nakumatt really that different from Albertson’s? Is Belvedere really that different from Greyhound? (Wait, I think it’s nicer than Greyhound, and than most of the planes that fly into Great Falls.) While I was thrilled to have access to the luxuries of America, and I will be thrilled again the next time I have them (and I’ll even be moderately excited the next time I head into Kigali), I don’t want to paint Rwanda, even the rural areas, as some sort of desolate, untamed jungle. Because (while poverty and suffering does exist here), it’s really not.
Stay tuned for reflections on my return to The Land of a Thousand Hills.
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