Learning

Just come back from the Genocide memorial  museum but don’t really want to talk about it here. All I want to say is that I was left unable to look at a Rwandan above the age of 17 on the street and not hear in my head the questions what did you do? Where were you when it all happened? What are your stories? What horrors did you endure? What horrors did you inflict? I think there really was far too much to think about to be able to verbally express the impact it left. But this is the land of 1000 smiles and instead I will tell you the story that I hope will endure much longer than the pictures in my head from the memorial museum. As we drive up the red earthed road towards our guest house, I gaze out the window at the people, and notice a boy of about 15, green apple in his hand, school uniform still impeccable. He decides to take advantage of the fact that our bus is struggling even in first gear to make it up the steep hill and takes it upon himself to race the bus. He starts running along side us and I catch his eye. He grins broadly, and picks up the pace, but he’s fighting a losing battle as the bus picks up speed as the road gradually evens out. He drops behind and I put my head out the window and call out “Never going to happen!” to him with an equally broad grin on my face. His smile widens (as if this was possible!) and he slows and then stops. I wave to him as we leave him behind. He waves back and his smile is marked on my mind in a beautiful juxtaposition of events. It certainly is a land of a thousand smiles, and that is the very thing you need to see when you’ve just been faced with such horror and unbelievable destruction.

Days here, before departure day, are very long and full. We start with our two hour Kinyarwanda lesson which is as frustrating as it is fun. Sometimes I take a look around the classroom and can’t help but laugh at the strange sounds we are making in order to try and pronounce a multiple consonant-ed word. We hiss and snort and make all sorts of nasal throaty sounds in the hope that we are actually repeating with some type of accuracy the word our teacher is so desperately trying to teach us. I mean seriously what would  you do with words like mirongwirindwe (20!) or umukorerabuskake (volunteer) or worse still nkomoka mubwongereza (I’m English)! So, I’m learning, but I’m also getting very tongue tied in the process. Being back ‘in school’ and going to class is very strange; I really feel for our teacher sometimes as the poor girl is basically taking and entire class of teachers and head teachers on! A couple of times now we’ve revolted and refused to learn the way she wanted us to, demanding paired work and more learner centred learning!!!

Enough now, my room mate has started snoring again and I can’t concentrate (let alone sleep). At least I’ll have my own room when i get to my placement and the only sound will be the crickets and the rain.