Beautious Butare

Well, here I am in Butare, a beautiful university town three hours south of Kigali. I’m here with my Tulane professor who’s in town for the week overseeing a Social Work training dealing mainly with psychosocial care for people living with HIV/AIDS. Social Work appears to be an up-and-coming profession in Rwanda. In general, my initial impressions of Rwanda are that it is incredibly progressive and becoming a great model for this region of Africa, if not the whole continent. President Kagame appears to be quite the visionary, seeing the benefits of development, accountability, and the acknowledgement of wanting to move forward as a strong country. I was with some fellow expats the other night and there was a sobriety checkpoint (that alone was mind-blowing…in Togo, if there were sobriety checkpoints, there would be no taxis. Ever.) Even more surprising was when the guard gave the driver back his identification without a bribe! I mean, seriously…where AM I?

But it’s been nice to see another part of Rwanda. The entire country is so beautiful—rolling hills, lush mountains, coffee farms and gorgeous horizons. Butare seems a bit more “African”: women walking barefoot carrying things on their heads and babies on their backs; men with their bicycles toting jerry cans; older ladies in traditional African dress from head to toe. Everyone is very kind and fun and much more westernized than I always expect. Everyone has cell phones. Everyone knows who T.I. and Young Jeezy and Ciara are (sorry Mom and Dad-totally hip-hoppin’ it up).

Basically my week has consisted of attending this training five hours a day with Dr. G. and attempting to translate for her from French. Unfortunately for me, the majority of the participants prefer to speak in Kinyarwanda, so I spend the majority of my morning looking at my planner (as only I can do for endless hours) and attempt to look interested. It’s a very motivated and engaging group, though, and exciting to think of where Social Work could go as a profession in a country like Rwanda with so much recent trauma and history.

After the training, I go to town to pick up my “lunch”, which today consisted of a warm juice box, two samosas, a half tin of Pringles (once you pop, you really, really can’t stop), and some shortbread cookies. I’ve basically decided to boycott eating out in Rwanda. It’s ridiculously expensive and I can’t seem to find local food (which is my favorite thing in the world) so until I come across the deliciousness of homemade beans and rice on the side of the road, snack shack it is. After consuming my delectably nutritious lunch, I go to my hotel room (which of course has no water. For those of you who remember my emails from Ethiopia last fall, this is ALSO becoming a sick curse that is following me around the globe.) I nap. My foot continues to heal, but I haven’t been able to really walk around much, and I am now fighting off a bad cold/sinus infection which I’m pretty sure is my immune system’s way of saying a big old screw you after the events of last week and attempting four different antibiotics in a ten day span). So, I sleep…and sleep, and wake up in an enormous puddle of my own drool because I can’t breathe through my nose, and head to the hotel of Dr. G. to steal her wireless internet at the fancy mzungu hotel.

Today, I paid to use the pool as a shower substitute. Obviously, the temperature was hive-activating, and I spent like 40 seconds in the pool, only to have a very sweet Rwandese girl tell me I needed to expend some energy to warm up. Little did she know I was simply rinsing off in hopes of not getting scabies or head lice.

I have no idea why I haven’t taken any pictures yet. It’s a stunning country. Well, I do know. Last week I was hospitalized for a foot abscess and my battery died in my camera. So there. I promise they are coming soon. Or I’ll just post my friend’s pix and pretend they’re mine like I usually do =)

Missing you all madly. xoxoxoxo