Snapshots of Integration

First, before I get into the actual post, here is a little bit about the holidays. Holidays are stressful. At home. In Rwanda. Doesn't matter where, they will most definitely stress me out, but in a good way. For Christmas Eve I had twelve PCVs spend the day/night at my house. We cooked, we cleaned, we drank. Typical holiday for me. I probably won't ever have twelve people stay at my house again, but I'm glad I did it and it was great to see everyone. A few days later, I got a kitten :) he's super snuggly and also very effective with my rat problem. I have always been bad at naming animals and even worse at actually using their name, so he's "cat". I don't think he protests too much. Then it was time for New Years. I went to Kigali and stayed in a hostel with like 13ish other PCVs and we all went out to a nearby bar, came back to the hostel after midnight, and went to bed around 3:30-4am. Guess which hostel apparently throws a massive party starting at 5am? We were woken up to brochettes and chips cooking, about a thousand people drinking outside our window, and super loud music. Despite the chaos, it was another great holiday, and I really enjoyed myself.

Now for the real post...


So my primary job as a PCV newly installed at site, a little over a month at this point, is to "integrate" into my community. You might ask yourself: "what does that even mean?". I have no idea to be honest with you. It looks different for each and every one of us. Here is a list of a few moments where I definitely felt integration happening, and a few more questionable moments that I'm still not sure what to call..

1. A Rwandan friend is coming to visit me. She's never been here. She stops 2 kilometers early, several villages away, and asks if she is going the right way. Everyone was able to tell her "Kelly atuye Gatare, komeza" (Kelly lives in Gatare, continue). One, people know where I live, but I am the only white person in my whole sector so it's to be expected. Two, THEY KNOW MY NAME!!

2. When the moto drivers see me walking down the mountain they stop and offer me a free ride. Usually I explain that I enjoy walking and they think I'm crazy, but none the less it's much appreciated.

3. I am no longer called "umuzungu", almost everyone knows my name at this point.

4. I am now the proud owner of a cat and a chicken. All of my neighbors like to help me with things, especially if it means playing with the only friendly kitty around :) Now I get daily swarms of small children coming to visit me and to play with the cat.

5. Sometimes the cat runs into my neighbors house.. They are TERRIFIED of cats.. So sometimes my daily integration efforts consist of chasing the cat through their house and apologizing profusely in kinyarwanda. Integration..?

6. Regularly answering the question "Are you a girl or are you a woman?" This one took me a while to understand, but basically it's a strange way of asking if I'm married and if I have kids. There is always a lot of explaining why I don't want a husband and kids at 22.

7. Successfully navigating my way through the night market, naturally in the dark, and not overpaying for bananas.

8. Greeting people in kinyarwanda and then them telling you in English that you speak like a Rwandan. WIN.

9. A student sees me trip (these uneven dirt roads are hazardous for my clumsiness), then in perfect English says "Teacher, you are clumsy".. They knew I was a teacher!

10. A friend of mine came to visit for a night after New Years. I had been away for about 3 days. We were greeted by a large group of small children who all proceeded to hug me :)

Sometimes integration can be as small as people knowing you have a name other than umuzungu (white person/foreigner), sometimes it involves being stuck on the twegerane for 2 hours and holding your own in a kinyarwanda conversation, and sometimes you just have a moment and think "wow, this is what it feels like to be part of the community". You never know when these moments are is happening. Gotta love it.

going to happen, but they do. Almost everyday you have at least one awkward and/or glorious moment where you feel it happening. And it