On homestays

While I was a teenager, my family hosted two different exchange students. Conveniently, both were named Paula. Paula #1 was from Bogota, Colombia and Paula #2 was from San Sebastian, Spain. If I am remembering correctly, Paula #1 stayed with us for about a week, and Paula #2 for about a month. Both spoke fluent English, and had no problem integrating into American culture. If I thought hosting these students would prepare me at all for moving into my homestay during 10 weeks of Pre-Service Training, I was far from correct.

Last Friday, after two days in Kigali, our cohort of 24 was bussed to Rwamagana, the largest city in the Eastern Province of Rwanda. We were placed in a large room at our school (“the hub”) with all of our host families, and our very limited knowledge of how to say “Hello”, “how are you” and a few other niceties in Kinyarwanda. The pairing process felt a bit like a kickball draft – trainees and families alike waited for our names to be called, and once we were, everyone would cheer and as you were paired with your family/student.

When my name was called, the first thing my host mom told me is that I am her ninth Peace Corps trainee and guest. This put me at ease – at least momentarily. We hauled my 100+ pounds of luggage to a Peace Corps truck, and they dropped us off at my new home. My host sister took one look at my luggage and asked if I was moving to Rwanda for two years or for the rest of my life. I turned bright red with embarrassment – what can I say, I brought at least 20 pounds of American snacks?

The past week living with my family hasn’t always been easy. My three host siblings speak nearly fluent English, and my mama speaks a little, but I am supposed to only be using Kinyarwanda. The language is very challenging and even when I memorize words, answering questions on the spot is still proving to be very challenging. My family eats foods that are different than what I am used to, spends their time differently and simply put, are not my American family. Some moments I feel the weight of living on the other side of the planet from my true home. But for every difference I have discovered, the similarities outweigh. The first thing my sisters and I did when I arrive was paint our nails with the polish and nail stickers I brought for them (good idea, Mom!). They like to watch the Disney movies I brought on my hard drive (thanks Jessica!), teach me words in Kinyarwanda, spend time walking around the market and gossiping with their friends, and spend afternoons by the pool at the local hotel. My siblings are hilarious, unique and aspirational – my 17 year old brother wants to be a wildlife photographer in the national parks throughout Africa, my 13 year old sister wants to be a doctor in Canada (eh?), and my youngest sister, who turned 10 this week, wants to be a museum docent.

Day-to-day, Peace Corps Trainees spend just about every daylight hour in class. We have 2-6 hours of language classes a day, and otherwise have technical classes on Maternal and Child Health and the work we will be doing as volunteers in our communities, as well as health, safety and security, and cross-cultural lessons. My cohort of trainees is smart, interesting and a refuge when I feel like a true umuzungu (foreigner) in Rwanda. When we get home, we cook with our families, practice lighting our Imbabura (charcoal stove), hand wash our clothes, eat with our families, and do our best to practice Kinyarwanda. I have been running a few mornings each week with other PCTs, and when we are really lucky, we run with other Rwandans – today with prison police officers, other days with children on their way to school. On the weekends we all converge at the hotel for wifi and calls with family and friends. If you ever want to Facetime, Saturday and Sunday mornings are primetime.

My language teacher, Warren, recently told our class that “guests are considered blessings in Rwanda”. I think this statement perfectly sums up the Rwandan hospitality I have received thus far. My host family greets unannounced guests with grace, kindness and generosity, answers every phone call that comes to their cell phones, and has been incredibly patient with me while I learn Kinyarwanda and try to integrate into their culture and home. When our water stops running, we simply walk to our next door neighbor's house and use their faucet. My first night living with my host family, I had to wake my little sister up to let me outside to use our latrine (the door was double locked). I couldn’t sleep at all that night, and when I saw her in the morning and told her I was sorry for waking her up, she looked at me with the utmost honesty and empathy, and told me it was not a problem at all and I shouldn’t be sorry. I then awkwardly started crying in front of her. That afternoon, my mama asked if I was going to make it through the two months of training. I was also quickly exposed to the lack of privacy! My integration is far from seamless, but my Mama, three siblings, Tate and umukozi have made it fun, comfortable and truly memorable. While I live with them over the next two months, you will most definitely be hearing more stories and seeing more photos.

Being a Peace Corps Trainee is unbelievably exhausting, overwhelming and challenging. Past volunteers will tell you that you will face the highest highs and lowest lows – even more, I have found, you will face them in a single day. Even though I am not within walking distance of a Nordstrom, as my father lovingly reminded me yesterday, I am within a quick walk of abadozi (tailors) who make beautiful clothing and help us to blend in – or at least try to.