On commitment

I wouldn’t go so far to call myself a commitment-phobe, but I can admit that I do have a tendency to hop from hobby to hobby, interest to interest, and place to place. Within the last three years, I have lived semi-long term in Berkeley, DC, Lafayette, Boston and now Rwanda. I very briefly dabbled in sourdough bread baking (killed my starter), told myself I would start to learn French (lol), and have gone back and forth a million times about what I want to do after the Peace Corps. Heck, I “dated” Mike for about ten months before I let him call me his girlfriend. Sorry, that was rude of me!

Peace Corps Volunteers are “committed” to serving for two years, however, even this commitment is loose. Quite technically, volunteers can leave at any time for any reason and “early terminate” their service. We can be administratively separated, medically separated, and can even leave early to start our graduate studies. Don’t get your hopes up – Friday, the nutritionist at my health center looked at me and said, “You are my answer.” Break my heart, I can never leave her, and am determined to be in Rwanda for my entire two-year service, if only for her.

If there is one word I would use to describe the women in my village, it would be committed. Mothers with malnourished children come to the health center weekly to pick up 7 liters of milk for their children. This equates to one free liter of milk a day. Mamas walk up to two and a half hours each way, and we are able to get them in and out of the health center quickly, some days they don’t leave until long after lunch. These women struggle to provide their children with proper nutrition, but damn it, they try.

At the end of every month, we distribute shisha kibondo. This is a fortified food for pregnant women, breastfeeding mothers, and children under the age of two. Shisha kibondo is provided through a partnership between the Clinton Health Initiative and the Government of Rwanda. When Hillary isn’t trying to ruin the life of a certain newly appointed Supreme Court Justice, her foundation is providing food to poor children living in rural villages throughout Rwanda. What a witch!

On shisha kibondo day, women and their children arrive to the health center as early as 8AM. Xaverine and I have become quite the tag team, and measure the weight, length and MUAC (an arm measurement to determine whether a child has malnutrition or not) of every child and woman receiving shisha kibondo. This takes place over two days – one day for each cell – and we see up to about 100 patients a day. After measuring screaming, crying and kicking children, we flip through log books, calling the names of each child or woman. At this point, women come up to the table, look at their hand where we have written all measurements, and we transcribe this information into the books. Inevitably, we miss names or women aren’t paying attention and we then spend at least a half hour flipping through the three books to find missing names.

We then march women up the hill, where they stack (extremely) heavy boxes of porridge on their heads and walk right back down the same hill. We then call names again, and women place a stamp of their fingerprints in the book, pick up their porridge, and are on their way. By the time the first women leave, it is typically 3PM. This means that women, and their young children, are waiting over six hours to take anywhere from one to three bags of porridge. For context, each bag is approximately the size of a two-pound coffee bag. We then add all of the new patients to the books and repeat the exact same process. In August, the last woman received her porridge at 8PM. Because these are the newest patients, it means their children are likely the youngest, and likely only receiving one bag of porridge.

I urge you to take a moment to think about this: women walk up to two hours, wait anywhere from 6-12 hours, and then walk home. All for one to three bags of porridge. Now, I urge you to think about the last time you waited over ten minutes for a checker at your local Whole Foods or complained about shopping in line at Trader Joe’s because the store was so crowded. Personally, I can guarantee you that I would be hard-pressed to wait in line over ten minutes for a bag of grains. But every week and every month, women follow this exact same routine, because they are truly and deeply committed to the health of their children.

Before I continue with this post, I want to reiterate the footer of my blog: These are my views and – definitely – do not represent those of the Peace Corps or United States Government.

I had always been interested in global health, and after studying public health in college, I went back and forth considering moving and either working or volunteering abroad. I didn’t think the Peace Corps was for me – living in a village? Alone? Pooping in a hole? No electricity, water or cell phone service? Learning a complicated language? No thank you, I thought.

Then, in November 2016, our country did the unthinkable. We elected Donald Trump, a man who brags about sexual assault and refers to low-income countries, such as Rwanda, as shitholes. We elected a man who promptly reinstated the Global Gag Rule (if you want a 20 page research paper on why the Global Gag Rule will literally kill women in low-income countries, HMU), vowed to overturn the Affordable Care Act and rip healthcare from our nation’s most vulnerable people, and promised he would do everything in his power to appoint judges who will restrict – or outlaw – a woman’s human right to choose. He vowed to build a wall, called white supremacists “very good people” and ripped children away from their parents in a country where they know nobody and don’t speak the language.

As I became more disenchanted, angry and really, truly pissed off, I decided, what the heck, I’ll apply for the Peace Corps. I figured I could be a voice for Americans who didn’t stand for the same values as our currently elected leadership. I committed to serving my country, and the country of Rwanda, for two short years, hoping that after two years, I could come back to America more experienced and better equipped to work and fight for the rights of women around the globe. In the meantime, I could work in Rwanda to ensure that women and children are provided with the information, resources and ability to live their healthiest lives. I even wrote my statement of purpose expressing my true intentions and disenchantment with our government. After a quick round of questions to make sure I wasn’t going to incite an anti-government movement in Rwanda, I was offered an interview, accepted, vaccinated and on my way across the globe.

This weekend, with the lifetime appointment of Brett Kavanaugh, I – and many other dedicated, hurt and pissed off women – feel more committed than ever. I would like to take a moment in this space to thank the men and women who protested, called their Senators, went to the Capitol and voiced their concerns; to Dr. Christine Blasey Ford for her commitment to the truth; to every Senator who voted against the appointment of a man who is unfit to make decisions that affect my life, or the lives of my friends, family and strangers. And lastly, I would like thank Maria Gallagher, a 23-year-old woman, who like 1 in 5 American women has been sexually assaulted, who’s viral confrontation of Senator Flake demands our leaders to look women in the eyes and decide whether or not we matter. I learn more about commitment every day, by the women I surround myself with in Rwanda, and those who are holding down the fort in America while I’m gone.

“Don’t look away from me. Look at me and tell me that it doesn’t matter what happened to me.” We are committed to reminding our leaders that sexual assault and the rights of women and girls do matter, and that the experience of every single woman – no matter her socioeconomic status, race, ethnicity, religion, or country of origin – matters.

Check if you are registered to vote: https://votesaveamerica.com/

Learn how to register for an absentee ballot while living oversees: https://www.fvap.gov/citizen-voter