I Live Among Giants...

Good Sunday afternoon to you all!

When last I wrote, I had little idea of just exactly where I had come to live. Last Saturday morning at about 10:23 in the morning, I climbed into the minibus that was to take me to Musanze - my new home for the school year. We had packed up early on, and I had already visited the Economat, the tiny convenience store at our mission, three times to say goodbye. (The Economat became my Holy Grail over the last three weeks when I went looking for a caffeine [read:soda] alternative to instant coffee. As I quickly became a regular because of their bottled Cokes and sweet potato rolls, my friends at the Economat took it upon themselves to teach me Kinyarwanda. I owe my skills in numbers to them.) But when the Master of Studies and Mistress of Discipline, titles for members of school administration in Rwanda, arrived, I was quickly reminded of the job I had actually come to do. We all said our goodbyes and I set off for the two hour drive north to Musanze.

With Stratton and Josette on either side of me in the minibus, I was made very aware of the rapidly changing Rwandan topography. Outside of Kigali, one turn suddenly takes you straight up the side of a mountain, and the rest of the ride felt as though I was riding along the mountains' peaks, only to find there are mountains above mountains.

The first thing you notice about Musanze is the volcanoes. As soon as we arrived, I was introduced to each member of the Virunga chain - the volcanic line that forms the western boarder of Rwanda and the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo. In the morning, the volcanoes are as clear as day, but by three in the afternoon when the clouds set in, I've since found it necessary to find other ways of orienting myself. The air is thinner, and in some ways clearer, up here, and it is very hard not to appreciate the beautiful surroundings every time I leave my little room.

My Headmaster, Director of Studies, and Mistress of Discipline are no less impressive than the view out my bedroom window. They each speak at least four languages and can command respect without saying a word. Josette has since become my closest friend here, and she translates word for word from Kinyarwanda the two hour long church services I attend as part of my duties at the school. (P.s. When I was asked to introduce myself last week in Mass, the priest asked me my confession in front of the congregation-Josette saved the day and whispered "just say that you are a Protestant." Fwew.)

Likewise, the brouhaha over the first "muzungu" teacher at Musanze has been pretty humbling. Although my students clamor around every time I walk onto the school grounds, I never forget that the questions they ask me are actually in their third, and sometimes fourth, language, and that despite the fact that I am a member of the faculty, I am in no way more intelligent or more capable than they. It's hard to think of activities to start when students organize and direct their own choirs, basketball teams, dance clubs, and cultural nights. If that's not enough, they get up at 5 am to run 2K together, and conduct their own 6:30 AM Wednesday worship service. When all of the students piled in to the multi-purpose room to watch the American inauguration on widescreen Tuesday, three students asked me what Obama's policy on Israel was and how he planned to restructure America's economy. (They also asked if Dianne Feinstein, white Senator from California, was Obama's wife. They breathed an audible sigh of relief when I said no, and pointed about Michelle...) Finally, outside of class the other day, one of my juniors asked, "Teacher, I have been trying to know, how is uranium enriched? I am not positive how the centrifuge works." Great.

I've had to remind myself in the past week that my purpose here is in no way diminished although my surroundings, my colleagues, and my students are so very impressive. This year is the first year that the Rwandan government has required all secondary students to learn in English, hoping that Rwanda can rise to the level of the industrial giants in Nairobi. Teachers are scrambling to find English books, and students are struggling to catch new concepts in a new language. In a country where even a used Danielle Steele paperback costs upwards of $50, children are yearning to learn and parents are eager to see their children improve upon the lives they've lived.

In addition to helping my students, I'm learning and experiencing things I've never even imagined. Last night, at the church service celebrating faiths of all sorts, I got up on stage twice to learn traditional Rwandan dance in front 750+ students. I was invited by a fellow teacher to visit his wife and newborn baby girl in the Musanze hospital. I bargained for bananas in the market, despite my meager knowledge of Kinyarwanda. And despite going through some low spots in these past five weeks, I'm living in a developing country hanging out with kids who will one day run this country. It may be very humbling living in the company of giants, but it sure is spectacular.

I hope you all are well, and can't wait to write again.

Love,
Jen