Family Time Part 2

My last post was an overview of my parent's trip from my Dad's point of view. He gave a brief summary of the sights we saw and the "extremes" that are so prevalent in Rwanda. My Mom's opinions are on the country in general, how she found the culture, and insights on separation. 

                                                Reunited at the airport after almost a year!

The Country:

Rwanda was simply breathtaking.  From the moment we saw it from the plane, I knew we were going to see a beautiful country.  It truly is the “Land of 1000 Hills” (and I think we went up and down just about all of them).  It was amazing to see how the people farmed on steep hillsides, with all the rows of crops perfectly lined up.  Despite just about all the farming was done by hand with very little machinery, each inch of land was tilled and planted in a beautiful array of crops.  From the vantage point of a very high hilltop, it was hard to imagine how much energy was expended each day just walking from the valley to wherever a person needed to go high above the hills.  Everything felt so clean, and even in the cities or larger towns, there was very little trash anywhere.  We didn’t see any slums, which were so prevalent in Kenya and Sierra Leone.  Kigali (the capital) felt very upscale and progressive, in stark contrast to the outlying areas where the basic needs are barely met.  We saw such beautiful sites in our travels.  One night that I especially remember was when we traveled to the Nyungwe Forest.  I have NEVER seen so many stars in the sky.  The nighttime sky was absolutely beautiful. I also will not forget the endless, winding roads that traverse up, down and all around the hills of Rwanda.  My stomach won’t either!!

Mom recovering after a particularly long and windy bus ride

The People:

Of course I am a little prejudiced because I just loved everyone we met.  Kimberly’s host family, neighbors, co-workers, and friends were all so sweet.  Even though a lot of the time we couldn’t communicate because of course, we couldn’t speak a lick of Kinyarwanda, we just knew that everyone was as pleased to meet us as we were to meet them.  They took great pride in entertaining us, and we couldn’t have felt more welcome.  I loved meeting her host family.  They live in a beautiful place, and warmly welcomed us into their home.  It wasn’t awkward or anything.  In Kimberly’s village, the welcome party was planned with such seriousness and gusto.  Everyone helped and was excited to be involved.  I was blown away by the fact that 70 people were served a hot, delicious dinner at the same time despite the fact that there wasn’t a kitchen.  They all made it look easy!  The introductions, the order of events, the dinner, the dancing and fellowship were nothing like any “party” I have been to at home.  It was just such a warm and welcoming event. 

Despite the horrific history surrounding the genocide, I don’t feel as though the people are defined by that event.  Even though people think about “Hotel Rwanda” and the genocide when we tell them that Kimberly is in Rwanda, I certainly no longer have that thought in the forefront of my mind.  I respect a leader who makes it a point to make sure the genocide and all that happened is not forgotten and swept “under a rug”.

I do constantly think about the guide at the Genocide Memorial who was the lone survivor of his family, the young men at the Paradise Hotel who are trying to figure out how to better their lives, the fisherman who work from dusk to dawn for a couple of dollars a day and how I could possible make a difference for them.  I haven’t figured it out yet.

Final Thoughts:

I was so excited to go to Rwanda to see Kimberly.  At one point, I thought, “I don’t want to go, because then it will be over”.  Luckily, I didn’t let this silly way of thinking ruin our trip.  I was a little bummed that we would be getting to Rwanda on Thursday and not see her until Friday (because of a conference she was attending), so imagine my surprise upon seeing her in the sea of people waiting outside of customs.  I cried like a baby much to the embarrassment of a lot of Rwandans in the area.  I couldn’t help it.  I had spent almost a year with a wall around my heart protecting myself of missing my daughter.  My friends told me that I seemed so “stoic”, but honestly, whenever I would get sad, I would think of military mothers who had sons and/or daughters in harms way, and DIDN’T have the option to visit them, and I would think of mothers that I know who have lost their child and will never see them.  Those thoughts make me realize how lucky I am in that my daughter IS safe, and WILL be coming home.

Anyway, we had such a wonderful visit.  I loved traveling around with Kimberly.  She had organized the entire trip, and I was just so impressed as to how she handled herself with hotel clerks, cab drivers, market people, and her fellow Peace Corps volunteers.  I told her after this experience, there is NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING that she won’t be able to do in her life.  She has always been very independent, but now she has a self-assurance that just shines through her being.  I am in awe of what she is doing and how she has mastered the language, taken the bull by the horns at work (another essay in itself), but most of all, how she has embraced the people and experiences of Rwanda. 

Mom tackling the canopy walk

The last day of our visit was weird for me.  It just seemed bizarre that she just packed up her backpack and walked to the bus stand to catch a bus.  There were no tears, no real mushy goodbyes.  It didn’t feel as though she was headed back to her village in Rwanda.  It could have been catching a commuter bus at the entrance to our neighborhood.  It is hard to explain.  The one thing that bothered me then and still bothers me, (although I don’t know if “bother” is the word I really want to use), is the fact that there was no mention of when or if we might see her again in the next 15 months.  That doesn’t feel right with me. 

On a scale of 1 to 10, our visit to Rwanda for me was a 10+++++++ times infinity.  I hope Kimberly felt the same way.

My Thoughts on Her Thoughts:

There are two things I really want to address about my mom’s post. The first is where she said she “spent almost a year with a wall around my heart protecting myself of missing my daughter.” This really resonates with me because I have been doing the exact same thing, but didn’t have words to describe it until she pointed it out.

As my wonderful (and much more open) mother will tell you, I am not as willing to share my feelings and emotions. Its not because I don’t want to, but most of the time I myself can't articulate them or I don’t even realize something is bothering me until it builds up to the breaking point. Being away from home is not easy. I miss my family more than words can say. Its hard not chatting with my sister, hanging out with my parents, watching my niece and nephew grow up, seeing my friends. The vast majority of the time I feel extremely disconnected. But in a way, it’s a survival mechanism.

I don’t keep in touch with people as much as I should. I know that. Sometimes people will text me or want to talk to me and in the moment the thought of even just sending a text is overwhelming. I don’t know exactly why I get into those moods, but I think it is because I too need to build a wall around my heart. If I start thinking about home, I miss it too much and then I won't be able to last another year here. But still, I need to find a balance. I know my family wants (needs) to talk to me more. It’s a work in progress. I hope you all know that I think about you all the time and love you so much. I appreciate all you do for me and for your patience and understanding while I am away.

Another point she makes: when will she see me again? This is a question I cannot answer. For a lot of the same reasoning I made above, a trip to visit America is really overwhelming. I don’t know if I could mentally take that on and return to Rwanda still dedicated and motivated. Maybe that will change. I don’t know. Really if being here has taught me anything, its that life is never simple. Nothing is black and white. You just have to make the best of each situation, listen to your gut, and accept that it might not all go perfectly. Because life is many things, but it is no where near perfect.

Except my Mom of course, I'm pretty sure she's perfect :)