Yoyo day. Started the day pretty demoralised, and yet by the time I walked home I was filled with renewed faith. I know it was probably pretty naive to think that one three hour training could have had any kind of impact in classrooms where child-centred is a concept so far in the future the words haven't even been invented yet, but I did have hope that this week I might see some small changes. Well I didn't, not yesterday and not this morning and despite my best intentions not to be disappointed I couldn't help but start to ask what was the point of all this. The picture sometimes just seems to big. Although VSO is working with advocacy, it's frequently hard to feel the results of your work here because of the systems we're working with. They're just not changing fast enough, and as a volunteer it's easy to feel adrift. So when I walked into school this afternoon, late because of the rain and mud covered from an impromptu decision to start walking instead of waiting for my moto, to see three teachers using methodology straight from my training sessions you can imagine how uplifted I felt. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I was pretty ecstatic! I saw children standing in circles throwing a sponge (a ball substitute!) to each other in order to practice abstract nouns, I saw children playing games to help the teacher evaluate learning at the end of a lesson, I saw a teacher who only wrote four points on the board in the whole 40 minute lesson as opposed to writing reams and then expected the class to sit and copy, I saw children generating their own questions, I saw a group of Primary 1 children exchanging beans, bags and pens in a circle and saying the name of the item offered and the name of the item recieved. I saw happy engaged children participating in active, learner-centred classrooms. These teachers had real guts to try all these new ideas all in one go, and whilst being observed. It made me so buoyed up to see. I guess it doesn't matter how much change there is as long as it is beginning, and now I know there is potential for more.
I then got dropped off in the village to buy some milk and airtime in my two shops which I've decided to frequent to help me feel more integrated. It was market day, which is both buzzy in a good way and annoying for the towns muzungus as out-of-towners are not yet acclimatised to our presence and so tend to do a lot of staring, standing frozen mid-task and umuzugu-ing. Just not acceptable after three months in the village I say! But today, being the aforementioned 'buoyed up' (and post-first kinyarwanda lesson!) I decided to take it all in my muzungu stride. Stepping into the first shop, I almost collided with our domestique, Gango, to whom i explained in perfect Kinyarwanda that I wanted milk. Ndashaka amata. I was promtly greeted with 'muzungu related' mutterings by young men hanging out in the doorway, to which I responded with immaculate precision and grammatical accuracy that my name is not muzungu my name is Rachel.They laughed heartily, smacked their hands into my palm with near gangster style vigour and grip, greeting me like an old friend and using my name. Well, that told them! Then I went into my second local and had another lengthy conversation in Kinyarwanda with equally resounding success. It was only a few phrases and a couple of numbers but there is something so satisfying about using what you know and getting those big laughs and impressed grins at my pitiful but painfully-learnt words. It just spurs me on to use more and to practice more, because the different is huge. The only problem is that once you start to use your well rehearsed sentences people seem to think you actually speak the language. In fact I got told I was very good at the lingo whilst in the shop just because I was able to say Sinvuga Kinyarwanda, "I DON'T speak Kinyarwanda!" Oh the irony!! But it was heart warming. I remember when i arrived and the town felt so cold and reserved. People didn't smile easily at my greetings, there seemed to be suspicion or fear or lack of comprehension in their eyes. A smile normally begets a smile, but it wasn't true here. I honestly felt like there would never be a break through, that it wasn't going to be possible to feel at home here. But over the past couple of weeks I have sensed a change. I'm a great believer in putting out there what you want back (thanks Nadie), and I realised that shutting my gate and hiding behind closed doors no matter how much of a relief it was at the end of another day of staring and umuzungu-ing was never going to get me 'integrated'. I remember the day it changed... the children on my dirt track called me Rachelli instead of muzungu as I walked home. This happens a lot now... on all my routes to each of my schools I hear children call out my name. It's almost impossible to explain how good that feels. So these moments in the two shops, well they mean everything. They tell me there is hope yet for me to 'know' people here. I don't expect to make lasting friendships, but acquaintances, people in my everyday life, well, that would make a big difference to life in Kirambo. When I got back from Uganda I told myself that it was time to start making more of an effort. That if I wanted things to change then I had to be that change (that's a little Gandhi-like isn't it!?). But it really has made a difference, just putting out a more positive energy towards the people in this town has allowed me to start getting that energy back. And hopefully the Kinyarwanda lessons are going to be the key. So, i guess if happiness is all about a series of moments, then today I was happy.
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