On grandmothers

I have been incredibly lucky to have had two absolutely badass grandmothers in my life. My dad’s mother and my grandmother, Blanche, raised three children as a single mother, loved to braid rugs and cross stitch, was an avid beachgoer and reader, and cooked delicious, authentic Italian food. Much of my teenage and young adult years my grandma was battling dementia, and in 2016 we lost her at the commendable age of 97. Talk about a badass. My mom’s mother, and my grandma, Alberta, was a housewife who many years ago decided that cooking simply wasn’t for her. She likes to snack, “cooks” mean takeout food, enjoys Dewar’s on the rocks with water, and had the great opportunity to travel all around the world with my equally wonderful grandfather. At 92 years old, she is as opinionated as ever, and is trying to persuade my parents that her next vacation destination should be Rwanda. I FaceTimed with her a few weekends back, and she let me know that after looking at slides of her travels with Grandpa, I needed to see the photo of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, because she looked “pretty darn good” if she did say so herself. Having my grandmothers – two weeks spent at Manomet Beach with Grandma Blanche every summer and weekends spent by the pool as well as countless holidays with Grandma Alberta – has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.

Moving to Rwanda, I gained another grandmother. In my host family, which I wrote about a bit in my last post, I have a “tate” (tah-tay). Having a grandparent in Rwanda is rare, and not many of my fellow trainees have one. Nearly one million men, women and children were killed during the Rwandan Genocide in 1994. Additionally, Rwanda has a much lower lifespan than higher income countries, due to lack of access to quality services and medicine, affordability of health care and services, and issues with prevention of disease. These are two issues that define life and health in a distinctly Rwandan context – although I think it is important to touch on them so that you all can understand why my Rwandan grandmother is important to me, I plan to discuss both topics in a more thoughtful and in depth way at a much later date. As you speak with Rwandans about their families (one of our new Kinyarwanda abilities), it is not uncommon to be told that people do not have parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts or uncles. I have come to realize how lucky I am to have my tate, and how rare it is here. She speaks not one word of English, and I speak the same amount of Kinyarwanda as a somewhat skilled three-year-old. However, what we lack in communication we make up for in time spent together. She helps me with my laundry and teaches me to cook traditional Rwandan foods (see my potato analogy below). When I learned the Kinyarwanda words used to describe families, I was finally able to tell her about my parents, sister, and “tate umunyamerica” (American grandmother). She lit up when I showed her their photos and told her about them, and it sealed a connection that at some points I thought would never come.

After the death of Anthony Bourdain, I decided to crack open his best-selling novel, Kitchen Confidential. His death affected me more than any celebrity death ever has – perhaps it was the timing, coinciding with our first day spent living with host families in Rwamagana, or perhaps it was simply my longtime crush (no shame). One passage stood out the most in relation to my current life. He writes, “Miguel, who looks like an Aztec king, spends his entire day doing nothing but peeling potatoes, cutting potatoes, blanching potatoes, and then, during service, dropping them into 375-degree peanut oil, tossing them with salt, and stacking the sizzling hot spuds onto plates with bare hands.” If you have heard me talk about my tate, you have likely heard me say that she peels potatoes all day long. Some days, I’m convinced she does it nonstop. I wake up – she is peeling potatoes. I come home from school, she is chopping them, throwing them into a pot or stirring them over high heat. Right before dinner? She’s dropping them into oil to fry them, pulling them out of boiling water or throwing the skins over the side wall of our compound into the bushes. When I read this passage, I immediately started laughing out loud picturing my tate cooking potatoes in a New York City kitchen with Miguel “the Aztec King”.

In Rwanda, potatoes (ibirayi) might as well be their own food group. We eat potatoes boiled, stewed, cooked in tomato paste, and fried – sometimes we eat them in all four ways at one meal. One goal of our service is to work with families on balanced diets (indiyo yusuye) and nutrition (imirire). Any trainee or volunteer in Rwanda, when asked about balanced diets, will probably chuckle and make a joke about the obscene amount of starches Rwandans eat. Rwandans will tell you they eat balanced diets at every meal – don’t be fooled. Like I said, I like to joke about my tate cooking potatoes. However, as much as I joke, I can also deeply appreciate the fact that she is 82 years old and spends her entire day, every day, cooking for a family of six. Not only does she cook, but does it all over a smoky charcoal stove, without regular access to running water, with a dull knife, and definitely without a cutting board. My tate is a legend among my trainee friends. Her presence is quiet yet kind, caring and loving. I can thank her alone for going to bed every night with food – although maybe not a balanced meal – in my stomach.

In other news, Health 10 trainees are progressing with our training. Our Kinyarwanda classes are picking up speed, we are practicing health related presentations and had our first oral language exam last week. We can all speak in the present and future tense, and tell you about our families, what we like to wear, tell you about services at the health center, and maybe even bargain with the shopkeepers at the local market or buy a bus ticket to Kigali. I still get umuzungu (foreigner) prices, but hey, I’m working on it! We were recently visited by the US Ambassador to Rwanda, and had the opportunity to discuss foreign service, his experience working in Africa and the Middle East, and opportunities to be successful volunteers in Rwanda. His visit was inspiring, interesting and fun. It also included a fully catered lunch with all the vegetables, meat, fish and spaghetti our hearts could desire.

Most importantly, last week we were given our site placements. Although we were reminded by Peace Corps staff that this it was by no means the most important day of our service, we were all nervous - especially because we had been previously informed that there was only one site lacking the Big E (electricity) – sorry Jonathan. The Health Staff and LCFs brought us out back, where we all clustered in front of a detailed map of Rwanda and banners with names and artwork for each region. One by one, Aline called our names and informed us of the region, sector and health center name we will each be serving at.

I am happy and excited to inform you all – for those who didn’t see my Instagram post – that I will be serving in Nyamsheke District, in the Southwest of Rwanda! My site is close to the edge of Lake Kivu, and if I am really lucky, I will be able to see the Democratic Republic of the Congo from my house (just kidding, don’t worry Mom and Dad!). I will be working at a Catholic health center, which I found out when Aline gave me a sly smile and a wink and told me I would love living with the nuns. The areas of focus identified by my supervisor and counterpart for my service are the improvement of nutrition among pregnant women, increased rates of the completion of all four antenatal care visits, hygiene and the importance of breastfeeding. I will also be focusing on cooking demonstrations, malnourishment among children and working with families of malnourished children to develop savings plans.

I have been told that the West is beautiful, lush and never runs out of fresh foods or water. There are beautiful areas to hike (my district borders Nyungwe Forest), we have Lake Kivu at our fingertips and there are coffee and tea farms throughout the region. The West is also a bit more rural than other regions, and my closest neighbors from Health 10 Cohort are a few hours on either side. I will not be a quick bus ride from Kigali and am likely a few hours from my banking town. Next week we will be visiting our sites for the week, and I cannot wait to see my home and health center and meet my new “sisters”! We move to site in one month, and I can confidently say that I am excited and looking forward to using the skills and knowledge we have gained during training at my health center. I love living with my host family in Rwamagana, but I am also looking forward to a little more time to myself, and of course, fewer potatoes.

Spending time with my Rwandan tate has been a highlight of my homestay. When we are together, I cannot help but think of the strong, hilarious and independent grandmothers that helped raise me. Many days, I wish I could be in the kitchen checking the tide chart and cooking tootlings with my Grandma Blanche, or sitting at my Grandma Alberta’s table eating snacks and disagreeing vehemently about politics. As cheesy as it sounds, whenever I spend time with my tate, I feel a smidge closer to them.

The photos below are from the past few weeks of training. Those that are clearly nicer than my amateur photography were taken by Kerong Kelly. Please follow along on both of my Instagram accounts as well - @gvlovell and @_grawanda.