“What is She Doing in Rwanda Again?” Part II

 
What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

Enough with the “Eat, Shoots, and Leaves”?  Fair enough.  However, all apply and all are some of the things I wonder about as I ride a moto out to a school over bumpy iron red roads, walk down the streets of Nyamata to a chorus of, “Muzungu,” text a head teacher asking if I can please work with their school, pull into a school of 2,000 students as a quarter of them seem to flood out of their classrooms to surround me pushing each other out of the way to get a chance to touch my skin, pull at my hair, or shake my hand, teach a lesson with a teacher in a room so simple and dark that I can’t see what some of the children have written, spend time trying to get my somewhat rigid language brain to learn to communicate in Rwanda’s mother tongue Kinyarwanda, or try to make peace with the army of cockroaches that don’t know any better than to not get stuck in the shower drain.



Teacher Workshop



What I am officially doing here is working with Bugesera District’s Department of Education as a Primary Methodology Trainer through CUSO-VSO.  Primary Methodology Trainers work in a variety of ways within CUSO-VSO, but I like to think of myself as a member of the band of moto riding teacher trainers motoring around the countryside visiting schools to help teachers with their teaching and carrying a backpack full of locally made teacher and student goodies to enhance the educational experience of all students.



Using rice sacks for posters.



A typical day working as a methodology trainer with a school district is to hop on a moto at 7:00 a.m. and enjoy the hour, or more, long ride over rather rough roads and through very small villages.  Arrive at a school that seems so remote you can’t believe a school exists there, dust yourself off as the masses of children run out to warmly greet you and wish you a good morning.  Shortly there after greet a teacher will shoo the students back to class and give you an equally warm greeting and walk you to the teachers’ room.  From there you will organize yourself for either observing a teacher in order to give them feedback on their lesson, co-plan and co-teach a lesson with a teacher, teach a lesson for teachers to observe, and/or give a workshop on active, participatory, learner centered strategies and methodology.  Lunch is often provided by the school and eaten with the staff and sometimes their children. When the work is done at the school it is time to hop back onto the moto as all the students swarm yet again to wish you a safe journey home and run a few hundred yards with the moto as you leave.  Arriving back in town anywhere from 3:30 to 5:00 p.m. where, after paying the moto driver who has waited all day to take you back home, your first order of business upon arriving home will likely be to take a cold shower and be happy for it. 

Photo courtesy of another volunteer

That is a typical day.  On a few rare days, you may be in the office preparing for a weekend workshop, attending a head teachers’ meeting, or traveling to Kigali for a meeting there.  On the days that you are in the office you will meet a lot of head teachers and teachers with paperwork to sign, a few students who need a grant for secondary school, or a few parents who need to enroll their students.  Why would a secondary (high school) student need a grant?  Perhaps a little background on the Rwandan educational system I am working in would be helpful here.

Primary education in Rwanda is free for only the first nine years as of 2009, and attendance in the first few years is generally high.  However, attendance drops in the next six years as students can not go on to the next level unless they have passed the previous year’s exams.  Students are also often pulled from class to help with farm work at home or for some other similar reason and are unable to attend school and either fall behind or do not return.  Therefore, within one grade level class the ages can vary significantly.  I have seen students that appear to be well into their teens in grade three or four classes, and happy and proud to be there. Class sizes are meant be a maximum of 49 pupils, however, the recent district wide class average was given to be at 65.  In an attempt to reduce class size and educate as many children as possible most schools practice, double vocation, meaning the teachers teach a morning shift and get a whole new set of students for an afternoon shift. 

Photo courtesy of another volunteer

Because resources are very limited in every classroom teaching materials usually consist of a blackboard and chalk, therefore, teaching is still very much a teacher centered affair with the teacher up at the chalkboard teaching and the students in their desks listening or answering a few routine questions. Classrooms are very basic with the range of quality seeming to be based on how recently they were built.  However, whether a new kiln-fired brick classroom with windows or a mud brick classroom with wooden shuttered windows, all seem to have three students to a bench seat desk and very, very little access or money for any materials beyond chalk.  Primary school teachers will come from secondary schools or Teacher Training Colleges and have a general secondary education with little practical experience, and this is where CUSO-VSO comes in.  On the invitation of educational ministries that have recognized the need for more teacher training, people like me are working in Teacher Training Colleges and school districts in an attempt to encourage a more active, learner centered, and participatory methodology using locally found materials at the primary level. 

While I am sure that has not answered fully what I am doing here, I hope it is an adequate start.  I hope to write more in the future about what a Rwandan Teacher’s day is like, moto riding, classrooms, tools, work, the loads people carry, feats of strength, and much more.

Included are a few pictures from a workshop on visual aids using rice sacks along with a few other photos of teaching and learning aids made from locally made materials.

“What is She Doing in Rwanda Again?” Part I

 

Getting a thumbs up at a recent school visit.

Bad blogger that I am I never really did say what I was doing here in Rwanda or much about the organization that I am with.  I will try to correct that with this posting.  I am in Rwanda with CUSO-VSO a non-profit organization with a rather long history in international development.  Volunteer Service Overseas, VSO, was begun in 1958 by a couple from the United Kingdom who set up a program in Ghana.  Canadian University Service Overseas, CUSO, was begun in 1961 as a non-profit organization sending young Canadians abroad with the motto “serve and learn.”   In 2008 CUSO and VSO Canada merged. 

The overall philosophy is to send volunteers with experience and skills to work in partnership with various organizations, governments, and agencies to benefit people striving to overcome poverty, create sustainable development, and build both human and organizational capacity.   I am here through CUSO-VSO the North American member of VSO International.  Volunteers work with existing local and national organizations and live as members of the community they are supporting.   Here is the website for more information if you are interested, such as the names of the 40 countries they send volunteers to and the wide variety of work that they do: http://www.cuso-vso.org/.

Deciding to apply to CUSO-VSO came after a decision to take a year of leave from teaching.  I made the decision for various reasons, but the primary reason was the desire to visit Africa and to continue my own education.  Therefore, after exhaustive searches on the internet of the various organizations that worked in Africa as well as looking into teaching at international schools, or paying to volunteer, I was thrilled to find their website after typing in, “Teaching in Refugee Camps.”   I was thrilled as I could see that I would learn a lot, be supported as a volunteer, and feel good about the work I was doing.  To make a long story short including filling out applications, phone interviews, and two trips to Ottawa, an offer to work in Nigeria and then Cambodia, I was able to accept the placement to work in Rwanda for seven months as a Primary Methodology Trainer. 

Working with students in Hebron

I had thought I would begin a placement sometime earlier than January, but I am thankful that this is the way that it worked out as it left me with time in the fall to thoroughly enjoy Glacier National Park as well as to spend two months in Hebron, Palestine working with another fabulous organization, Partners for Sustainable Development (website: http://www.psdpal.org/ ).

So that is how I got here and who I am working with, Part II will be what I am doing here.

Project Runway Rwanda

Sorry about the title, but I just couldn’t help myself and it is rather appropriate as you will see.

I think that one of the things that I am most excited about here is the idea that around every corner is a tailor willing to try to make clothing for you according to an existing garment, a design or sketch of your own, a pattern hanging on their wall, or even just an oral explanation of the garment your desire.  Added to this is the fact that if you go to any market you will find scores of fabric to choose from and if you have a little more time and can make it to Fabric Alley in Kigali your choice of fabric becomes endless.  I was recently in this “fabric alley” hoping to choose my very first measure of cloth, but found myself instead just wandering from little shop to little shop uttering, “Wow!” and stumbling on as I was so overwhelmed by the choices that I made no choice.

In a way cloth is king here, or rather, as it is the women who are the primary consumers of this vast catalog of fabric, I should say cloth is queen here.  On a recent Sunday bus ride as I was staring out the window at the passing scenery the landscape suddenly turned into a sea of moving cloth of every color and design as for nearly a mile the side of the road was filled with men and women on their way to church dressed in their Sunday best.  It was joyful to take in as each woman was uniquely and colorfully dressed in her own design in her own chosen fabric, and as the fashion here is to have a matching skirt, shirt, and headdress these women appeared to be a kaleidoscope of moving color.



Because of this love of fabric and design in Rwanda there is a real cottage industry in each town and village of busy tailors and seamstresses.  I have been passing through the tiniest of towns and seen either through an open doorway or out in front of a petite, little shack someone bent over a sewing machine working to complete someone’s skirt, suit, school uniform, or wedding attire.  One’s own pocketbook, desire, and creativity seem to be the only limits to the wardrobe that one may aspire to.  Therefore, because I was kindly moved out of my seventh grade home economics class because I was failing the sewing portion of the class to the shop class where they were learning to weld, I am wildly excited about the prospects of “designing” a wardrobe without having to actually sew anything. 



I have my first appointment with a seamstress this week so I will keep you posted on my own Project Runway in Rwanda.  In the meantime here are some just a token sampling of some of the fabrics one has to choose from.  

"Thank you Mood!"



Election Day

Last Friday there were local elections held throughout Rwanda.  Mayors, Supervisors, Deputies, and the like were up for election and I am pleased to say that Rwanda is a country that takes the privilege of democratic voting seriously. 

Unfortunately for me because I was only half aware that there were elections at all, except for some rumblings on the VSO information mill that work may either be cancelled or delayed, I headed out to work at 6:50 a.m. as usual as I never could ascertain whether a lie in would be appropriate.  The morning was lovely and the first cool and foggy morning here with people quietly appearing out of the fog and disappearing again as they passed me on their way to town.  It was a welcome change in this usually hot, dry, and dusty place where it is often already 80 degrees by 7:00 a.m. 

As I walked to work I suspected the mill must have been onto something as there were fewer bike taxis ringing their bells, no students making a run for it, and less “action” in general.  Arriving at work I further suspected either a cancellation of work or a delay as other than one or two other employees standing around with hands on hips and doing a lot of looking around no one was about. Sending text messages to all the right people brought me no results so after waiting a decent forty minutes (fair-right?) I headed home. 

Walking home I noticed that a crowd was gathering at the local soccer field and I tried to find ways to stall and hang about to see if some event was about to take place. I bought an apple and some bananas at one of the little shops, tried to get some answers in broken Kinyarwanda, but basically was still unsure if work was on or off.  However, not wanting to miss an opportunity for a cozy morning of reading and tea at home (it was a mere 73 degrees) I quickly gave up and somewhat reluctantly headed back home, choosing tea over, “getting the scoop”.

Shortly after arriving home a text came in that the true and factual election day story was that government offices would be working on a delayed start to give people a chance to vote, and that my presence at work would be expected by 9:30.  All right, back it is, and after a quick tidy up of the tea and a sorrowful goodbye to the last sixteen pages of the book I was reading I began my walk back to work. 

In the mere 40 minutes that I had been home the quiet, foggy streets were still a bit foggy, but no longer quiet as a steady stream of adults were making their way into town.  It was like small rivers of people pouring in from the countryside.  Really.  It was sort of like so many Hollywood movies where the music swells and with purpose and good will the town’s people flock into help the hero or heroine save the day.  Rounding the corner to pass the soccer field it was much more obvious that indeed this was the place where the actual voting was taking place and not some other interesting occurrence.  People were lined up at various outdoor tables waiting to vote while laughing, talking, and generally having a good time on this election day.  I hesitantly walked down to take a few photos, but felt a bit self conscious and so only took a few shots from far away and did not capture the little rivers of people making their way to vote at the local soccer field or the many very, very old people making their way into town with some part of their family or perhaps a neighbor dressed to the nines and making a day of it.  It was really a splendid event to have witnessed and an affecting one, in fact, turn was reported to be at nearly 95%.  Impressive.

Aren't you glad I am not calling this, "Give me shelter?"

One of the very basic aspects of being human, or really any critter, is shelter.  Living here, and the way in which I do, has got me thinking about shelter and what constitutes enough for each person.  Is your idea of adequate shelter a shack with a cot and cooking pot, a deluxe, decked out uber house with a car in the garage with a bumper sticker that reads, “He who dies with the most toys wins,” or does your idea of adequate shelter lie somewhere in between? 

After you have determined what enough is and have attained it I suppose then the question of how you want that enough to look and be arranged comes into play.  Does the pot need to be black and be in the east corner of the shack?  Does your mansion have to have mahogany furniture and damask drapes?  Does the color scheme have to be nothing more daring than beige, or do you prefer your décor in neon brights?  In other words what are each person’s needs both physically and aesthetically?  Does one take precedence over another?  Would you rather have an aesthetically pleasing one bedroom or the largest house on the block albeit empty because you blew the wad on space?



Living Room



Evidently for me it is not how much stuff I have, but rather the way that stuff looks that matters.  During the in country training we where advised on the list of things we may want to buy with our household allowance as well the things we would be given.  After looking at the things we would be given: a bed, table, cabinet, shelves, two kitchen chairs, two arm chairs, a water filter, a kerosene lamp, a mosquito net, and a hotplate I thought that there would be very little more that I may need.  With my allowance I bought a water can, a pail with a lid, sheets, a pillow, two towels, a mop, a kitchen knife, a tin bowl set, two bowls, four glasses, two cups, two forks, two spoons, two knives, a pot, and the most important thing for my own comfort-a tea kettle.  I had a few items from home and I felt set. 



Kitchen



After setting it all up in my seven room mansion I was right about having enough things and already feel like it is more than I need.  Although a tea towel sure would come in handy here and there and that will need to be bought.  Need?  Anyway, what is amusing to me is how much time I have spent arranging those two bowls, four glasses, and two cups so that they please me asethically as I sit in one of my four chairs.  As well as how often I sweep the floor with the classic palm frond broom I also acquired for a mere fifty cents so that my living space is spit spot.



Spit Spot



I think I am in kindred company here as I am quite intrigued by the absolute tidiness of this country.  No matter how simple or basic the shelter seems to be the yard is sweep to perfection daily, the natural vegetation fence is trimmed and tidy, not a pot or pan is out of place, and the garden is tilled to perfection.  There is nearly no litter, and every house seems to have a little bit of flair added with either a painted door, a spruced up pathway, or a few flowers planted in front.  The other day I watched a woman sweep the entire length of the red clay road in front of her house, while one of her neighbors was putting a fresh coat of mud onto his home.  It looks nice and I appreciate that as I continue to live in aesthetic harmony with my limited items and tidy neighbors.  





Fresh Coat



Like Barack

Today I think I had a good sense of what someone like Barack Obama, Madonna, or some other wildly famous person might feel like.  Today I made a 50 kilometer moto ride out into the countryside to visit two different schools and spent a lot of the time shaking hands and trying to cut a path through the crowds of blue and gold uniformed students.  The second school has nearly 2,000 students and I think at one time I may have been surrounded by a good 500 hundred of these students while talking with the head teacher.  When the head teacher asked them why they were not off eating lunch they replied that they would rather be looking at the visitor. 

These pictures really don’t do justice to the mobs that I was moving in, but they do give a taste of the day.  I hope that the more that I visit these schools the more the students will not find me such a fascination and thus a distraction.  The real stars of the day were the extremely hard working teachers plugging away in their classrooms, most teaching from 7:00 in the morning until 5:00 in the afternoon as they do a double shift to accommodate all the students.  Much, much more on that later.