Moving on

I was reflecting with one of my fellow volunteers yesterday on the day when we flew into Rwanda. After more than 24 hours on a plane, we were on the last leg of the journey, about to land in Entebbe, Uganda for a quick stop and then on to Kigali. As the plane descended below the clouds, a view of green banana trees, rolling hills, and Lake Victoria greeted us. Joanna and I looked at each other and practically squealed. The anticipation and excitement was almost too much to contain. But looking back, those two girls looking out the plane window seem like people from a different era. Could that really have been me, that person who almost couldn’t believe that she was on a plane about to land in Africa?!

One of the main reasons why I have always felt a tugging towards Africa was that I wanted to see what it was like to live in a place with problems and customs and world-views that are different from those in America. I felt as though I couldn’t ever live at peace in the States without feeling as though I had a legitimate understanding of what goes on outside the bubble. For me, that took living abroad. And so, when I reflect over the whole year, the overcoming of the bean obstacles, the 5 hour meeting obstacles, and the lack-of-customer-service obstacles, I feel like they all add up to one overarching accomplishment: Africa feels like home.

When I performed the traditional Rwandan dances with my students a few weeks ago, it almost felt like an initiation. Afterwards, all the teachers and students told me with large grins: “Now you are umurwandakazi, a Rwandan.” And I definitely feel like one. I walk the streets with a grocery bag full of food for my dinner; food that I got at a good price because I bargained for it in Kinyarwanda. I get knocks on the door at 7 in the morning from someone who came to greet me, because they are my friend. When I try to run an errand and the shop is closed in the middle of the day on a weekday, and then I come back the next day and the computer system is down, and then I come back the next day and the man with the key is nowhere to be found, I roll my eyes. C’est la vie Afrique.

Flying back over Uganda in January, I will again be excited to look out the plane window and see the green landscape. But just like in a relationship, what is exciting at first because it is new, eventually turns into something deeper and more meaningful. A year later, my excitement will come from meeting up with something familiar.