Sunday, July 22, 2007
Fooood!
Yesterday was one of the best days I've had this whole trip! In the morning Megan and her host sister Claudia came over and we made brunch for my host family. Scrambled eggs with veggies, breakfast potatoes, pancakes, fruit, and coffee. It was really fun, and I was amazed that it all turned out well even though I had never cooked on a charcoal stove before. People liked the food, except they thought I was weird for putting honey on my pancakes. No one really likes sweet things, except that they put about four huge spoonfuls of sugar in their tea, which I think is weird, so I guess we're even. The fruit here is really amazing. We had passion fruit and mango, and it was delish. I normally don't like mango(e?)s, because I think they're slimy in a weird way, but here they are fresh and I eat them all the time. Then I went into town with Neema's cousin Lina, who took me around to her sister's house, and from there we went to a party at one of their friend's houses. It was really fun. I have been trying to spend more time with Rwandese people outside of work hours, and yesterday was exactly what I've been looking forward to doing. We had a great time, and I'm going to maybe see them again on Thursday. Plus, Lina lives in Bujumbura, so this weekend if we actually go, she will show us around there! Apparently Bujumbura has the most beautiful inland beaches in Africa, great nightlife, and good food. Lonely Planet has not let us down so far, so hopefully this will be no exception!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Assessment survey part 1
July 19
We have done three days of interviews so far, and it’s been really interesting. Things have gone surprisingly well, after one of our translators evaporated the day before interviews began. We have reached our target number of interviews every day, and we got to the field on time! (The leaving on time thing may not seem like an accomplishment, but we are on “African standard time” here, which means that everything is late, even scheduled bus departures.) It’s interesting to realize that things we never thought would be cultural hurdles are actually posing lots of problems. For example, when we wrote the questionnaire and translated it, we checked with the Rwandese at work to make sure that none of the questions were culturally inappropriate. We have some about family planning, and we weren’t sure if it would make people uncomfortable. There are also questions that ask about the clients’ interactions with spouse/extended family, but those are touchy also because so many people lost their whole family during genocide. So, we fixed those problems, found ways to ask what we wanted to without being insensitive, but it never occurred to us to ask about the form of the questionnaire itself. It turns out that questionnaires like this are a very western concept, and the multiple choice questions are really difficult for people to understand. Who knew? One the questions that really throws people is this:
Describe your ability to meet your family’s food needs:
a) I am able to provide all the food my family needs, and it is not a concern.
b) I am able to provide all the food my family, needs, but I wish I could buy more food.
c) I am not able to provide all the food my family needs, and I sometimes worry about this.
d) I am not able to provide all the food my family needs, and I worry about this all the time.
It seemed straightforward to us, and it doesn’t even have a western bias because it asks about needs being met, not a number of meals per day or how often they eat protein, so we thought it was a pretty great question. But, it takes about 5 minutes to explain every time we do an interview. Dinah, my translator and fellow intern, tried valiantly yesterday, but we were in a poor, rural, uneducated area, and there was only one woman who seemed to really know what she was answering. The rest of them eventually said something, but Dinah thought they were just saying it so she would move on. The funniest part about it is that we are so embarrassed that we’re asking questions that are hard to understand, but the Rwandese interpreters are like, “Well, these people are just really ignorant, so we’ll do our best but sometimes they just don’t get it.” The other thing that’s hard to get at is anything that deals with the time-space continuum. The section at the beginning that deals with background info asks things like how long have you been a client, how many loan cycles have you been through, etc. People just say they don’t know, or they say it has been very many, but they don’t know how many. The only ones who are really sure about it are people who joined right after genocide, in 1997. And many of our questions are before and after scenarios, like the food one above has a part B that asks them to describe the differences in their situation before and after receiving a loan. Today was better, though, because we were in Kigali city, and the people who are in town are generally more educated. Must run, dinner is on.
We have done three days of interviews so far, and it’s been really interesting. Things have gone surprisingly well, after one of our translators evaporated the day before interviews began. We have reached our target number of interviews every day, and we got to the field on time! (The leaving on time thing may not seem like an accomplishment, but we are on “African standard time” here, which means that everything is late, even scheduled bus departures.) It’s interesting to realize that things we never thought would be cultural hurdles are actually posing lots of problems. For example, when we wrote the questionnaire and translated it, we checked with the Rwandese at work to make sure that none of the questions were culturally inappropriate. We have some about family planning, and we weren’t sure if it would make people uncomfortable. There are also questions that ask about the clients’ interactions with spouse/extended family, but those are touchy also because so many people lost their whole family during genocide. So, we fixed those problems, found ways to ask what we wanted to without being insensitive, but it never occurred to us to ask about the form of the questionnaire itself. It turns out that questionnaires like this are a very western concept, and the multiple choice questions are really difficult for people to understand. Who knew? One the questions that really throws people is this:
Describe your ability to meet your family’s food needs:
a) I am able to provide all the food my family needs, and it is not a concern.
b) I am able to provide all the food my family, needs, but I wish I could buy more food.
c) I am not able to provide all the food my family needs, and I sometimes worry about this.
d) I am not able to provide all the food my family needs, and I worry about this all the time.
It seemed straightforward to us, and it doesn’t even have a western bias because it asks about needs being met, not a number of meals per day or how often they eat protein, so we thought it was a pretty great question. But, it takes about 5 minutes to explain every time we do an interview. Dinah, my translator and fellow intern, tried valiantly yesterday, but we were in a poor, rural, uneducated area, and there was only one woman who seemed to really know what she was answering. The rest of them eventually said something, but Dinah thought they were just saying it so she would move on. The funniest part about it is that we are so embarrassed that we’re asking questions that are hard to understand, but the Rwandese interpreters are like, “Well, these people are just really ignorant, so we’ll do our best but sometimes they just don’t get it.” The other thing that’s hard to get at is anything that deals with the time-space continuum. The section at the beginning that deals with background info asks things like how long have you been a client, how many loan cycles have you been through, etc. People just say they don’t know, or they say it has been very many, but they don’t know how many. The only ones who are really sure about it are people who joined right after genocide, in 1997. And many of our questions are before and after scenarios, like the food one above has a part B that asks them to describe the differences in their situation before and after receiving a loan. Today was better, though, because we were in Kigali city, and the people who are in town are generally more educated. Must run, dinner is on.
One more stamp in the passport
July 16
This weekend was definitely one of the more interesting ones of my life: Janine, Sarah, Pierre and I went to Congo, and survived. There is a town on Lake Kivu, Gisenyi, that is near the DRC border. So close, actually, that we walked there from our hotel. So, we spent the day in Goma, DRC. It was interesting, but not at all like I thought it would be. It is immediately different, as soon as you get out of the border agent’s office. It was much dirtier, filthy actually, and not green at all. Which is weird, because it’s right on Kivu so it should have vegetation, but it’s gray and black. The UN headquarters blocks off the view of the lake (way to snap up all the cheap beachfront, UN!) so you can’t even see the water from downtown, and all the streets are ruined because a few years ago there was a volcanic eruption and it covered the city in magma. They speak different languages there, and the fashion is much different (apparently Congo is like the fashion capital of central/East Africa) but it was mostly that is just felt different.
Rwanda is an extremely optimistic country: Everyone is going to school and the politicians are constantly pushing for progress and reminding the Rwandese people of how far they have come since genocide. But there was definitely no optimism in Goma. It makes sense, of course, because the war in Congo has dragged on for so long, and has caused more deaths than any other war in the last few decades (I think, but don’t quote me on that). Because of its location Goma hasn’t really been ravaged, unlike the rest of the eastern border, which has been hit the hardest. The poverty was much worse than anything I’ve seen in Rwanda, every building was practically covered in razor wire, and there were AK-47s everywhere. It was definitely not as dangerous as I thought it would be, but the Rwandese border agent gave us a thorough talking-to before we crossed, and we followed his do and don’t list to the letter. We also went back early, to avoid the “roving gangs” that appear after dark, according to Lonely Planet and the State Department. [Note on the roving gangs: Our Swiss friend Pierre thought we kept saying roaming gays, and he couldn’t figure out what we meant for a long time, until he asked about the roaming gays, at which point we laughed for a long time, then immediately began making fun of him, which we will continue doing for some time.] And here’s a phrase I never thought I’d say: “Keep track of time, you guys, because we need to be safe in Rwanda by 6:30.” But when we got back across the border, I really did feel safe and sound. Rwanda is now really secure, but it was just funny to hear myself refer to it as a haven. On the whole, not a happy place, but very interesting for a visit. Plus, we found a place called the VIP Palace, and discovered a pretty good Congolese beer called Turbo King, which is definitely an awesome name for a beer.
That night we ate dinner at a hotel, swam in their pool, and froze to death (almost) afterward. It turns out that Africa, especially at the equator, is not necessarily warm. The waitress brought us a clay pot full of hot coals, and we huddled around it trying to get warm, but were forced eventually to resort to alcohol, which was much more effective. Sunday we went to the Serena hotel, which is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever seen, and used their private beach. It is such a beautiful place, on par with the amazing beaches in Malaysia. The lake is huge and has waves like the ocean, and they have big blue and white striped umbrellas in the sand, it looks like paradise. Then we had a good lunch, I met a guy from Portland (such a small world), and we came home. We laughed so much this weekend, my cheeks hurt by the end. It felt really good to relax because my work situation has been a bit tense, and I really needed to be away in an environment where I don’t have to censor myself so much.
We (the interns) are really trying to make Rwandese friends that we can hang out with outside of work, but it is hard! We’ve been invited to a couple social things, but they are always at church, and with prayers multiple times a day and church at least twice a week already, I am a bit hesitant to use my free time doing that. But there has been a good development on that front: We found a girl at work who definitely knows about Kigali nightlife. Plus, she’s really nice and super interesting, so she has now become our lifeline.
There are some things about home life that I’ve been meaning to write about for a while. Namely, that I am now allowed to help make dinner, and it’s really fun. I have discovered that Francois, the house boy, actually does understand a bit of French, which he has hidden up to now. So, we can talk a little, which is great, and the dinner prep takes forever so allows for some quality bonding time. And many laughs, of course, since I don’t know how to do anything. Today I came home right after work, which I don’t always do, and hung out with Neema’s cousin. We shared a mango and it was great. I am not super comfortable in situations where I can’t talk with people, since I like to talk so much, but I am learning that it’s kind of okay for me to say things in English that people don’t understand, and for them to say things in kinyarwanda that I don’t get either. But the mango was a good conversation substitute, and it was a good evening. There is lots of time to kill because we eat dinner so late, and since it has hit me that I don’t have very much time left here, I am determined to take advantage of the family time. I think tonight I will go ask if I can sing with the girls before bed. Neema, her sisters, and her cousin sing to the baby before they go to bed, and I always hear it a want to go too, but I feel awkward about it for some reason. But tonight, I think it’s time. It is tempting to pack my days full of things, but I know that if I do that, I will be sad after I leave that I didn’t invest more time with my family.
I just found out that Francois left to work for the family next door, and that Claude, Daniel and Neema’s previous houseboy, asked to come back to work for them. Being here makes me re-think my position on child labor all the time. I remember going to a lecture last year about child labor, and the professor who gave the talk was trying to make the point that legislation declaring child labor illegal is a bad idea because it addresses a symptom and not a root cause of poverty. So many people got up in arms, accusing him of being pro-child labor, but the point he made is totally valid. Prohibition was a perfect example of how useless laws can be, and how they can even worsen the behavior they are trying to prevent, if the society does not foster an environment that supports those laws. And I see that here daily: the cost of going to school is high, even though there are technically no “fees” for primary school, so for many kids it’s simply not an option. If they are already home, what do you want them to do? Nothing? Often, if one child stays home to work, they family is then able to send another to school because of the extra income. If there is a kid who may have a shot at a university scholarship, it could be considered wise for a sibling to work in order to assure that kid a chance. Especially because educated people who get good jobs often support many family members. Daniel takes care of his mom, a sibling or two, and several children, in addition to Neema’s sisters who live with us. It is obviously not the best-case scenario, but in order to get kids to go to school, laws will not be effective. They need to be able to afford it, which means not only lowering the costs but improving the ability of individuals to pay for that schooling. Also, there needs to be an environment in the country that values education and rewards people who invest in it. There is so much unemployment, and a shortage of jobs that require educated people, so in an environment where education doesn’t have a return on investment, why would you go to school?
Being allowed to help more at home is great not just because of the bonding but because I get more say in things, too. There isn’t a lot that is hard to adjust to as far as food stuff goes, except breakfast. No one eats much in the mornings, but I almost can’t make it to work without food. But peanut butter is saving me, and now I feel comfortable enough that I can get my own breakfast in the morning. But the other night, dinner presented a challenge. Luckily, the food here is pretty good (if unvaried) and there has been very little that I didn’t like. But a couple days ago, there was a dish with small eggplants, which are okay generally when mixed with rice or bananas, but they’re really bitter. Only this time, they were mixed with tiny dried fish. Since most of the time we have just one dish and rice or potatoes to go with it, you can’t just take a little bit of the thing you don’t like. I had a hard time getting it all down, but if that's the worst thing I have to eat, we're doing pretty well.
And as long as we’re on the topic of social faux pas, I made a huge one today: We are going tomorrow to Rwamagana tomorrow to interview clients, and this morning we had a huge meeting to discuss everything and nail down some last-minute details. We tentatively set a meeting time for tomorrow morning, but we needed to buy the bus tickets and confirm that meeting time this afternoon. The woman who said she would do it is the director of client training, so we said we’d be in contact later in the day to confirm everything. In the afternoon I went down to see ******* (not naming people), so he could call her and confirm for tomorrow. He is the person that I see most frequently at work, and he’s nice in his way and really tries to help us, but he is really frustrating to work with and his personality is just weird. He really creeped me out at first, and made some really inappropriate comments, but later I realized that they were not malicious, they just came off much more intense than he meant them to (I think…) And it’s hard to communicate with him because he is much more comfortable in French than in English, but he always wants to speak in English anyway, so conversations move at a glacial pace. I would be happy to speak English because I know it’s good practice for him, but in some business conversations there is no room for misunderstanding, and we should really pick the language that best suits everyone. Anyway, so I went to ask him to call about the bus tickets and meeting time. He called, and I thought he would just ask her, but instead he put me on the phone. I was surprised, not expecting him to hand it to me, and so didn’t know what to say, and just repeated the question. She answered me (we’re speaking in French) but I couldn’t really understand what she was saying. Her French is good in person, but she has a really strong accent so without gestures and lips to read, I was pretty lost. So I asked her to repeat, and I think she didn’t really understand me either, so I just asked her to hold on one minute. I handed the phone to ********, and asked him to speak with her (since they have a first language in common) but before I could stop him, he hung up the phone. So then I explained that she had still been on the line, that I just needed him to talk with her because I was having trouble hearing. I asked him to call her right back and apologize. But he just kept asking me questions about the interviews while I stand there freaking a bit because I’ve just hung up on someone, and he wouldn’t just call her back and say sorry. He eventually did, but I still feel really bad. I’m not sure how bad that is in Rwandan culture, but people are overly polite here and definitely don’t cut people off when they’re talking or anything. So I hope it’s okay tomorrow, but I felt horrible and helpless.
This weekend was definitely one of the more interesting ones of my life: Janine, Sarah, Pierre and I went to Congo, and survived. There is a town on Lake Kivu, Gisenyi, that is near the DRC border. So close, actually, that we walked there from our hotel. So, we spent the day in Goma, DRC. It was interesting, but not at all like I thought it would be. It is immediately different, as soon as you get out of the border agent’s office. It was much dirtier, filthy actually, and not green at all. Which is weird, because it’s right on Kivu so it should have vegetation, but it’s gray and black. The UN headquarters blocks off the view of the lake (way to snap up all the cheap beachfront, UN!) so you can’t even see the water from downtown, and all the streets are ruined because a few years ago there was a volcanic eruption and it covered the city in magma. They speak different languages there, and the fashion is much different (apparently Congo is like the fashion capital of central/East Africa) but it was mostly that is just felt different.
Rwanda is an extremely optimistic country: Everyone is going to school and the politicians are constantly pushing for progress and reminding the Rwandese people of how far they have come since genocide. But there was definitely no optimism in Goma. It makes sense, of course, because the war in Congo has dragged on for so long, and has caused more deaths than any other war in the last few decades (I think, but don’t quote me on that). Because of its location Goma hasn’t really been ravaged, unlike the rest of the eastern border, which has been hit the hardest. The poverty was much worse than anything I’ve seen in Rwanda, every building was practically covered in razor wire, and there were AK-47s everywhere. It was definitely not as dangerous as I thought it would be, but the Rwandese border agent gave us a thorough talking-to before we crossed, and we followed his do and don’t list to the letter. We also went back early, to avoid the “roving gangs” that appear after dark, according to Lonely Planet and the State Department. [Note on the roving gangs: Our Swiss friend Pierre thought we kept saying roaming gays, and he couldn’t figure out what we meant for a long time, until he asked about the roaming gays, at which point we laughed for a long time, then immediately began making fun of him, which we will continue doing for some time.] And here’s a phrase I never thought I’d say: “Keep track of time, you guys, because we need to be safe in Rwanda by 6:30.” But when we got back across the border, I really did feel safe and sound. Rwanda is now really secure, but it was just funny to hear myself refer to it as a haven. On the whole, not a happy place, but very interesting for a visit. Plus, we found a place called the VIP Palace, and discovered a pretty good Congolese beer called Turbo King, which is definitely an awesome name for a beer.
That night we ate dinner at a hotel, swam in their pool, and froze to death (almost) afterward. It turns out that Africa, especially at the equator, is not necessarily warm. The waitress brought us a clay pot full of hot coals, and we huddled around it trying to get warm, but were forced eventually to resort to alcohol, which was much more effective. Sunday we went to the Serena hotel, which is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever seen, and used their private beach. It is such a beautiful place, on par with the amazing beaches in Malaysia. The lake is huge and has waves like the ocean, and they have big blue and white striped umbrellas in the sand, it looks like paradise. Then we had a good lunch, I met a guy from Portland (such a small world), and we came home. We laughed so much this weekend, my cheeks hurt by the end. It felt really good to relax because my work situation has been a bit tense, and I really needed to be away in an environment where I don’t have to censor myself so much.
We (the interns) are really trying to make Rwandese friends that we can hang out with outside of work, but it is hard! We’ve been invited to a couple social things, but they are always at church, and with prayers multiple times a day and church at least twice a week already, I am a bit hesitant to use my free time doing that. But there has been a good development on that front: We found a girl at work who definitely knows about Kigali nightlife. Plus, she’s really nice and super interesting, so she has now become our lifeline.
There are some things about home life that I’ve been meaning to write about for a while. Namely, that I am now allowed to help make dinner, and it’s really fun. I have discovered that Francois, the house boy, actually does understand a bit of French, which he has hidden up to now. So, we can talk a little, which is great, and the dinner prep takes forever so allows for some quality bonding time. And many laughs, of course, since I don’t know how to do anything. Today I came home right after work, which I don’t always do, and hung out with Neema’s cousin. We shared a mango and it was great. I am not super comfortable in situations where I can’t talk with people, since I like to talk so much, but I am learning that it’s kind of okay for me to say things in English that people don’t understand, and for them to say things in kinyarwanda that I don’t get either. But the mango was a good conversation substitute, and it was a good evening. There is lots of time to kill because we eat dinner so late, and since it has hit me that I don’t have very much time left here, I am determined to take advantage of the family time. I think tonight I will go ask if I can sing with the girls before bed. Neema, her sisters, and her cousin sing to the baby before they go to bed, and I always hear it a want to go too, but I feel awkward about it for some reason. But tonight, I think it’s time. It is tempting to pack my days full of things, but I know that if I do that, I will be sad after I leave that I didn’t invest more time with my family.
I just found out that Francois left to work for the family next door, and that Claude, Daniel and Neema’s previous houseboy, asked to come back to work for them. Being here makes me re-think my position on child labor all the time. I remember going to a lecture last year about child labor, and the professor who gave the talk was trying to make the point that legislation declaring child labor illegal is a bad idea because it addresses a symptom and not a root cause of poverty. So many people got up in arms, accusing him of being pro-child labor, but the point he made is totally valid. Prohibition was a perfect example of how useless laws can be, and how they can even worsen the behavior they are trying to prevent, if the society does not foster an environment that supports those laws. And I see that here daily: the cost of going to school is high, even though there are technically no “fees” for primary school, so for many kids it’s simply not an option. If they are already home, what do you want them to do? Nothing? Often, if one child stays home to work, they family is then able to send another to school because of the extra income. If there is a kid who may have a shot at a university scholarship, it could be considered wise for a sibling to work in order to assure that kid a chance. Especially because educated people who get good jobs often support many family members. Daniel takes care of his mom, a sibling or two, and several children, in addition to Neema’s sisters who live with us. It is obviously not the best-case scenario, but in order to get kids to go to school, laws will not be effective. They need to be able to afford it, which means not only lowering the costs but improving the ability of individuals to pay for that schooling. Also, there needs to be an environment in the country that values education and rewards people who invest in it. There is so much unemployment, and a shortage of jobs that require educated people, so in an environment where education doesn’t have a return on investment, why would you go to school?
Being allowed to help more at home is great not just because of the bonding but because I get more say in things, too. There isn’t a lot that is hard to adjust to as far as food stuff goes, except breakfast. No one eats much in the mornings, but I almost can’t make it to work without food. But peanut butter is saving me, and now I feel comfortable enough that I can get my own breakfast in the morning. But the other night, dinner presented a challenge. Luckily, the food here is pretty good (if unvaried) and there has been very little that I didn’t like. But a couple days ago, there was a dish with small eggplants, which are okay generally when mixed with rice or bananas, but they’re really bitter. Only this time, they were mixed with tiny dried fish. Since most of the time we have just one dish and rice or potatoes to go with it, you can’t just take a little bit of the thing you don’t like. I had a hard time getting it all down, but if that's the worst thing I have to eat, we're doing pretty well.
And as long as we’re on the topic of social faux pas, I made a huge one today: We are going tomorrow to Rwamagana tomorrow to interview clients, and this morning we had a huge meeting to discuss everything and nail down some last-minute details. We tentatively set a meeting time for tomorrow morning, but we needed to buy the bus tickets and confirm that meeting time this afternoon. The woman who said she would do it is the director of client training, so we said we’d be in contact later in the day to confirm everything. In the afternoon I went down to see ******* (not naming people), so he could call her and confirm for tomorrow. He is the person that I see most frequently at work, and he’s nice in his way and really tries to help us, but he is really frustrating to work with and his personality is just weird. He really creeped me out at first, and made some really inappropriate comments, but later I realized that they were not malicious, they just came off much more intense than he meant them to (I think…) And it’s hard to communicate with him because he is much more comfortable in French than in English, but he always wants to speak in English anyway, so conversations move at a glacial pace. I would be happy to speak English because I know it’s good practice for him, but in some business conversations there is no room for misunderstanding, and we should really pick the language that best suits everyone. Anyway, so I went to ask him to call about the bus tickets and meeting time. He called, and I thought he would just ask her, but instead he put me on the phone. I was surprised, not expecting him to hand it to me, and so didn’t know what to say, and just repeated the question. She answered me (we’re speaking in French) but I couldn’t really understand what she was saying. Her French is good in person, but she has a really strong accent so without gestures and lips to read, I was pretty lost. So I asked her to repeat, and I think she didn’t really understand me either, so I just asked her to hold on one minute. I handed the phone to ********, and asked him to speak with her (since they have a first language in common) but before I could stop him, he hung up the phone. So then I explained that she had still been on the line, that I just needed him to talk with her because I was having trouble hearing. I asked him to call her right back and apologize. But he just kept asking me questions about the interviews while I stand there freaking a bit because I’ve just hung up on someone, and he wouldn’t just call her back and say sorry. He eventually did, but I still feel really bad. I’m not sure how bad that is in Rwandan culture, but people are overly polite here and definitely don’t cut people off when they’re talking or anything. So I hope it’s okay tomorrow, but I felt horrible and helpless.
Friday, July 13, 2007
What am I actually doing here?
People keep asking me what I’m actually doing here, and the reason I haven’t really written about that yet is because it’s taken a while to figure it out. This is a really interesting time to be here because we are in the process of merging with a huge international organization, but that presents a lot of challenges as far as my internship, because no one has time to give us things to do, and authority is so diffuse that we never know who to ask. So there were many days of waiting around for meetings that never happened, but now I have a project! So here it is. (For people who don’t know, I’m working with a microfinance organization, which gives small loans (generally between $20-$100) to Rwandese people in order to help them start or expand small businesses. It’s an awesome idea, started by a guy in Bangladesh who won the Nobel peace prize for it in 2006. If you want to know more about microfinance in general, there are great documents and information on the following web pages: www.grameen-info.org, www.cgap.org, www.opportunity.org which is the organization we’re merging with, www.villagebanking.org, www.brac.net, and www.themix.org.)
I am working on assessing social impact. The clients obviously have economic change in their lives when they receive the loans, but I am personally more interested in the social change that occurs. Social change is far-reaching, it impacts not only the families who get the loans, but their entire communities and maybe eventually entire countries. Obviously, there are many areas of convergence, and some things like education are equal parts social and economic. But in my own studies and future work I really hope to work with the way that economic development affects the societies in cultural, interpersonal ways. It works out for the people at work as well because they have a lot of documentation about economic impact, but do not have a social impact study, which they really need in order to apply for grants and show to stockholders. So I’m working with one of the other interns on doing a study. We wrote it last week, and this week we’ve been working on the kinyarwanda translation with some Rwandese interns. Yesterday we tested it with clients in Kigali to identify problematic questions, and for the next two weeks we will be interviewing clients in the field. After that, data coding and analysis. I’m excited to do it, I think it will be a good jumping-off point for some research that I can use for my thesis. But because we didn’t really do anything for the first month, we now don’t have a lot of time to finish it, so there are some things that the report cannot include. It’s too bad that we couldn’t get on this right away, and time is so short now it will be a minor miracle if we actually have a final report by mid-August, but I think that even if we have to finish editing the report after we leave, it will be worth it.
It is challenging to figure out how to get things done here because the business climate is so different. It's a cultural thing that is partly in my favor, because they are pretty relaxed about things and want us to enjoy ourselves, but it's also extremely frustrating because something that would take a 1-hour meeting in the US takes a week to get done here. As with anything big and exciting like this, there will be a re-evaluation of expectations once it actually starts. And what I am realizing is that due to technological/financial/cultural/linguistic constraints, this internship is going to be much different that what I had expected, as far as what I will get out of it academically and as far as how much I will be able to make myself useful. They are really busy with the merger right now, and it feels like it's too hard for them to take the time to give us things to do, so we can't be very useful unless we do things on our own. Which is really hard, given that we don't know our way around very well, that we don't speak kinyarwanda, and that every time we try to do anything, they worry because we are women doing something by ourselves. It is also extremely difficult to comminucate because no one will give us a straight answer (cultural thing) and authority is so diffuse that we never know who should have the final say (merger thing). So, I am re-evaluating what is realistic for me to try to do while I'm here. I think the impact assessment will be the best mix of useful for them, useful for me, realistically accomplishable, and not mind-numblingly boring (as in, sitting in on meetings conducted in kinyarwanda for 5 hours a day.) Basically, the most intersting thing I'm learning is how to conduct business in an environment that seems to be un-business in every way. This something that I am slowly getting through my head, and something that I need to understand if I plan to work abroad in a development-related field. I didn't realize coming into this how deeply the cultural issues would impact my work experience. So, that is turning out to be what I am actually learning. Just as important, if not more, but very different.
Microfinance is so interesting because it is a relatively new concept in development, and it was originally conceived to reach the poorest of the poor. But it has morphed into something that reaches the poorest of the working poor, but not necessarily the destitute (people living on less than US $1 per day). But, it has caught on all over the world and seems to be generating some results. However, there are problems with repayment rates (it varies greatly by organization) and the long-term sustainability of the organizations is questionable. Most of them rely greatly on donor money right now, and do not turn enough of a profit to be self-fulfilling and sustainable in the long term, which is the problem that a lot of NGOs and aid organizations experience, and one of the reasons why more people don’t get the aid they need.
Culturally, all aid is touchy because sometimes it is hard to preserve culture when you “help” certain communities. Microfinance is especially tricky, because in some ways it helps preserve culture, but because it is so financial, it also necessitates huge cultural changes. For example, the loans can help preserve culture by allowing people to stay in their villages and continue with traditional forms of commerce like agriculture, crafts like basket-making, etc. Historically, there have been problems in poor areas (a good example might be border towns in Mexico) where large corporations install factories, mines, and other large-scale enterprise. The local communities often lose control of land that has historically been under their control, and they can no longer continue with traditional ways of life. So, to survive, they are basically forced to work in these mines or factories, and that creates a whole new category of social problems to overcome. In this way, microfinance can help vulnerable and rural communities become self-reliant without uprooting local culture. But for some people/cultures, thinking about loans, investment, savings accounts and loan repayment schedules can be a major change from the way money and property has traditionally been treated. The bank that we’re opening soon takes on some of these challenges by holding free training sessions, and specially training the employees to deal with clients unfamiliar with banking. They also use a special ID system with cameras and fingerprint machines, because many of the clients have no official ID cards or are illiterate.
The loans work like this: A group of people in a community find out about the program through friends, the market, word of mouth, etc, and they decide to start a community bank. The bank is assigned a loan officer, often someone who lives in a nearby village or the same town, who supervises the community bank’s (CB’s) activities. The CB has trainings to learn about how to save, how to repay the loans, all the basics. And then all the people come together and decide who gets to have the loans. They function by mutual guarantee, which means that all the members of the CB are responsible for each other, and if someone doesn’t pay, everyone puts up money to cover that person’s payment. People start out with small amounts, around US $20, and they can increase their loan based on their repayment history and the testimonies of the other CB members. After they participate in the CB for two loan cycles, they can take other kinds of loans, like village phone loans, home improvement loans, bicycle loans, etc. The websites I listed earlier will have more details, but this is the basic way my organization functions. Most of the clients I have met and spoken with have businesses like selling rice and flour at the market, selling things as a street vendor (like shoes, clothes, or fruit), running small shops, or sewing clothes. When the impact assessment is done, I will put some of the results up.
One small anecdote and then I really need to sleep, because the sun comes up really early so I’m usually awake by 5:30… Last night before dinner, we were sitting around talking, when I spied a spider on the floor. It wasn’t massive, but definitely larger than I’m comfortable with. (Its body was about the size of a nickel, and including the legs it was three or four inches across. One of my personal goals for the summer was to be okay with the bugs, and especially to get over my fairly intense fear of spiders. So I told everyone this, and went over to look at the spider. I kneeled (knelt? I never know) down by it, looked it over for a while, really examining it. It was interesting, definitely the closest I’ve ever been to one that big, and my heart rate even slowed down after a minute or so. I was thinking, “Good job, Ellen, you’re really okay with this.” So I decided the next step was to put it outside instead of killing it. Which was partially to spare it, and partially to not have to clean its guts off the floor. Normally, I let the Rwandese put the bugs outside, and their preferred method is to use a flip-flop to push them under the door. Now, a flip-flop requires your hand to be pretty close to the creature, and also allows for the possibility that it will scurry the opposite direction and possibly even come into contact with one of your feet. But I was feeling brave, so I went over to get a sandal and said “Okay, I’m going to put it outside.” Everyone pretty much thought I was crazy already for looking at it for so long, that they were like “Whatever, weirdo scaredy-cat American.” So I bent down, pushed it with the sandal, it darted TOWARD me, I dropped the shoe, screamed, jumped up, and ran to the couch. And everyone cracked up for about 10 minutes, while Daniel calmly pushed it under the door and off the porch. I’m thinking that was too many steps too fast, but I am definitely making progress. Although maybe next time I will use the bowl and paper method to trap it, which avoids accidentally touching it or seeing it run.
I am working on assessing social impact. The clients obviously have economic change in their lives when they receive the loans, but I am personally more interested in the social change that occurs. Social change is far-reaching, it impacts not only the families who get the loans, but their entire communities and maybe eventually entire countries. Obviously, there are many areas of convergence, and some things like education are equal parts social and economic. But in my own studies and future work I really hope to work with the way that economic development affects the societies in cultural, interpersonal ways. It works out for the people at work as well because they have a lot of documentation about economic impact, but do not have a social impact study, which they really need in order to apply for grants and show to stockholders. So I’m working with one of the other interns on doing a study. We wrote it last week, and this week we’ve been working on the kinyarwanda translation with some Rwandese interns. Yesterday we tested it with clients in Kigali to identify problematic questions, and for the next two weeks we will be interviewing clients in the field. After that, data coding and analysis. I’m excited to do it, I think it will be a good jumping-off point for some research that I can use for my thesis. But because we didn’t really do anything for the first month, we now don’t have a lot of time to finish it, so there are some things that the report cannot include. It’s too bad that we couldn’t get on this right away, and time is so short now it will be a minor miracle if we actually have a final report by mid-August, but I think that even if we have to finish editing the report after we leave, it will be worth it.
It is challenging to figure out how to get things done here because the business climate is so different. It's a cultural thing that is partly in my favor, because they are pretty relaxed about things and want us to enjoy ourselves, but it's also extremely frustrating because something that would take a 1-hour meeting in the US takes a week to get done here. As with anything big and exciting like this, there will be a re-evaluation of expectations once it actually starts. And what I am realizing is that due to technological/financial/cultural/linguistic constraints, this internship is going to be much different that what I had expected, as far as what I will get out of it academically and as far as how much I will be able to make myself useful. They are really busy with the merger right now, and it feels like it's too hard for them to take the time to give us things to do, so we can't be very useful unless we do things on our own. Which is really hard, given that we don't know our way around very well, that we don't speak kinyarwanda, and that every time we try to do anything, they worry because we are women doing something by ourselves. It is also extremely difficult to comminucate because no one will give us a straight answer (cultural thing) and authority is so diffuse that we never know who should have the final say (merger thing). So, I am re-evaluating what is realistic for me to try to do while I'm here. I think the impact assessment will be the best mix of useful for them, useful for me, realistically accomplishable, and not mind-numblingly boring (as in, sitting in on meetings conducted in kinyarwanda for 5 hours a day.) Basically, the most intersting thing I'm learning is how to conduct business in an environment that seems to be un-business in every way. This something that I am slowly getting through my head, and something that I need to understand if I plan to work abroad in a development-related field. I didn't realize coming into this how deeply the cultural issues would impact my work experience. So, that is turning out to be what I am actually learning. Just as important, if not more, but very different.
Microfinance is so interesting because it is a relatively new concept in development, and it was originally conceived to reach the poorest of the poor. But it has morphed into something that reaches the poorest of the working poor, but not necessarily the destitute (people living on less than US $1 per day). But, it has caught on all over the world and seems to be generating some results. However, there are problems with repayment rates (it varies greatly by organization) and the long-term sustainability of the organizations is questionable. Most of them rely greatly on donor money right now, and do not turn enough of a profit to be self-fulfilling and sustainable in the long term, which is the problem that a lot of NGOs and aid organizations experience, and one of the reasons why more people don’t get the aid they need.
Culturally, all aid is touchy because sometimes it is hard to preserve culture when you “help” certain communities. Microfinance is especially tricky, because in some ways it helps preserve culture, but because it is so financial, it also necessitates huge cultural changes. For example, the loans can help preserve culture by allowing people to stay in their villages and continue with traditional forms of commerce like agriculture, crafts like basket-making, etc. Historically, there have been problems in poor areas (a good example might be border towns in Mexico) where large corporations install factories, mines, and other large-scale enterprise. The local communities often lose control of land that has historically been under their control, and they can no longer continue with traditional ways of life. So, to survive, they are basically forced to work in these mines or factories, and that creates a whole new category of social problems to overcome. In this way, microfinance can help vulnerable and rural communities become self-reliant without uprooting local culture. But for some people/cultures, thinking about loans, investment, savings accounts and loan repayment schedules can be a major change from the way money and property has traditionally been treated. The bank that we’re opening soon takes on some of these challenges by holding free training sessions, and specially training the employees to deal with clients unfamiliar with banking. They also use a special ID system with cameras and fingerprint machines, because many of the clients have no official ID cards or are illiterate.
The loans work like this: A group of people in a community find out about the program through friends, the market, word of mouth, etc, and they decide to start a community bank. The bank is assigned a loan officer, often someone who lives in a nearby village or the same town, who supervises the community bank’s (CB’s) activities. The CB has trainings to learn about how to save, how to repay the loans, all the basics. And then all the people come together and decide who gets to have the loans. They function by mutual guarantee, which means that all the members of the CB are responsible for each other, and if someone doesn’t pay, everyone puts up money to cover that person’s payment. People start out with small amounts, around US $20, and they can increase their loan based on their repayment history and the testimonies of the other CB members. After they participate in the CB for two loan cycles, they can take other kinds of loans, like village phone loans, home improvement loans, bicycle loans, etc. The websites I listed earlier will have more details, but this is the basic way my organization functions. Most of the clients I have met and spoken with have businesses like selling rice and flour at the market, selling things as a street vendor (like shoes, clothes, or fruit), running small shops, or sewing clothes. When the impact assessment is done, I will put some of the results up.
One small anecdote and then I really need to sleep, because the sun comes up really early so I’m usually awake by 5:30… Last night before dinner, we were sitting around talking, when I spied a spider on the floor. It wasn’t massive, but definitely larger than I’m comfortable with. (Its body was about the size of a nickel, and including the legs it was three or four inches across. One of my personal goals for the summer was to be okay with the bugs, and especially to get over my fairly intense fear of spiders. So I told everyone this, and went over to look at the spider. I kneeled (knelt? I never know) down by it, looked it over for a while, really examining it. It was interesting, definitely the closest I’ve ever been to one that big, and my heart rate even slowed down after a minute or so. I was thinking, “Good job, Ellen, you’re really okay with this.” So I decided the next step was to put it outside instead of killing it. Which was partially to spare it, and partially to not have to clean its guts off the floor. Normally, I let the Rwandese put the bugs outside, and their preferred method is to use a flip-flop to push them under the door. Now, a flip-flop requires your hand to be pretty close to the creature, and also allows for the possibility that it will scurry the opposite direction and possibly even come into contact with one of your feet. But I was feeling brave, so I went over to get a sandal and said “Okay, I’m going to put it outside.” Everyone pretty much thought I was crazy already for looking at it for so long, that they were like “Whatever, weirdo scaredy-cat American.” So I bent down, pushed it with the sandal, it darted TOWARD me, I dropped the shoe, screamed, jumped up, and ran to the couch. And everyone cracked up for about 10 minutes, while Daniel calmly pushed it under the door and off the porch. I’m thinking that was too many steps too fast, but I am definitely making progress. Although maybe next time I will use the bowl and paper method to trap it, which avoids accidentally touching it or seeing it run.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Weekend in Kibuye
Wow. I have been here over a month now, and it seems like my time left is so short. I knew this would happen, but it’s still disappointing. I want to stay forever! Well, actually not, but sometimes it really feels that way. Before I left, I freaked out when I saw the pile of malaria pills, one for every day that I’m here, because it seemed like so many. But yesterday I made a list of all the things I want to do that have to be done on weekends, like trips to other cities and to a national park, and there are the same number of things as there are weekends left! So, I am trying to still do lots of things but also not be stressed out about it, and at the same time being sure to invest in my relationships with the women at work and the family I’m staying with. I haven’t written in a while, because I’ve been really busy, but that means there is a lot to catch up on. We will start with the now-infamous weekend at Lake Kivu.
It was amazing, at least for the first day. Kirsten and I took the bus, which was an experience. They are buses the same size as the ones in town, which fit 18 people. Except that everyone had bags because they were going for the weekend, and there is nowhere to put them besides your lap. So, we got in, and made sure to get a seat by the window because air circulation is key on 3-hour trips in close quarters like that. And we were pleasantly surprised to find that the bus wasn’t packed to its usual capacity. Maybe they don’t fill them as full on these long trips so that we will have more room? Oh, silly innocent white girls. No, there was another stop at another bus station before leaving Kigali. As it turns out, to make it really worth their while, on the long trips, they pack you in even more. Yes, there were 21 of us on this bus, 5 across in our row (why only us??) and it is at this moment, when we’re discreetly trying to count the number of people (it currently holds the record) that we discover that our window is the only one that doesn’t open. Deep breath, okay. It was funny more that anything else, except the last hour of the trip which is the most excruciatingly winding road I have ever been on. Imagine Portland to the coast stretched and contorted, going way too fast, on roads only wide enough for one car, but miraculously allowing cars, buses, huge trucks, cows, bicycles, motos, and tiny children to pass simultaneously. It was actually pretty amazing. There is definitely order in chaos, this was proof.
But we got there, no one died, and no one was carsick, which are really the goals on any journey like this. And when we got into Kibuye, we were wondering how to get to our guest house (no taxis) or even where it was (no planning ahead…) when a really nice girl saw our helplessness and offered us a lift. She spoke French, and she and her boyfriend even came to translate our check-in procedure. So we got to our room, which was AMAZING in every way (as in super comfy, came with mosquito nets, had HOT WATER, and looked directly out onto a beautiful porch sitting area and the most amazing view of the lake.) All for $20 a night. I love this place. We went down to the restaurant to get some food, and as we were walking by the tables I heard a group of girls speaking Québecois French. We went over to say hi, and it turns out that some of them go to my university! It took us an hour of conversation to realize that two of them are friends of two of my friends in Montreal, who separately put me in touch with people they knew who would be in Rwanda this summer, and who I had forgotten about completely until sending them an email the day before, which they had not even received yet. Amazing coincidence. They are here with Québec Sans Frontières (Quebec Without Borders) and are staying in villages outside of Gitarama. So, we ate with them and had a great time, and Saturday they invited us to go on with them to some islands on the lake, via a very sketchy boat that definitely had holes in the bottom. But hey, we’re still alive! We hiked, were swarmed by thousands of bats, swam, had genius tropical fruit and ordered some goat kabobs for lunch. From now on, when I see animals that are possible food sources, I will take care not to develop personal relationships with them right around lunchtime. But there was this cute goat that we said hi to when we got to the island. But when it was time to order lunch, we had pretty much forgotten about it, until we saw the guy who took our order go untie it, and shout something to his buddy, who left, reappeared with a machete, and took the goat to the other side of the island. About an hour later, he reappeared with some kabobs and lit a fire. We were obviously a bit surprised at the whole affair, but after the goat had sacrificed himself to feed us, it would be really insulting not to eat it, right? And they were definitely the best kebabs I’ve had this whole trip. The non-vegetarian thing is really working out well. Later we were sitting with our chairs partly in the water, enjoying island paradise with a cold beer, when Kirsten come over and says “Um, guys, I just threw up. A lot. I think I need to go back.”
Stranded on an island inhabited only by the guy who slaughtered our goat is not really the place you want to discover that someone has food poisoning. Luckily the boat was docked and everyone else was thinking about leaving soon anyway, so we left and she made it back to the guest house. She went back to the room, and I hung out with les québecoises, and the following morning Kirsten’s host family sent their driver to come get us. The bus ride back would have pretty much been impossible. She is staying with an American family here, and this was one of the circumstances that made us remember that sometimes, that’s really a good thing. (They also have a washing machine, which I might use at some point…)
So, right before we got in the car to come home, my stomach started feeling a bit interesting as well. But I just made myself wait until we got home before I allowed myself to feel sick. The ride was going okay, we were taking the curves pretty well, until we ran into someone’s face. Seriously, a woman was walking down the street, and our mirror smacked her in the face. I didn’t really see it happen, I just saw the mirror collapse inward (thank god they are made to do that!) and then a bunch of people gathered around and made the driver stop the car. Now, I see accidents a lot here, which is to be expected when the rules are taken lightly at best and so many types of traffic share the roads. Generally I think it is assumed that if you get hit, you’re the idiot for not getting out of the way. But, when you’re in a car, and you hit a pedestrian, even if she was walking in traffic (which she was) you can’t help but feel responsible. So Kirsten and I were really concerned, and a bit rattled. But the lady walked over to the car, she wasn’t bleeding, and we took her to the clinic and gave her some money. I guess that’s just how people deal with things like that here, although I still think about it and wonder if there wasn’t something else we should have done. I really hope she is okay. We made it back okay, and that’s the end of the weekend.
It was amazing, at least for the first day. Kirsten and I took the bus, which was an experience. They are buses the same size as the ones in town, which fit 18 people. Except that everyone had bags because they were going for the weekend, and there is nowhere to put them besides your lap. So, we got in, and made sure to get a seat by the window because air circulation is key on 3-hour trips in close quarters like that. And we were pleasantly surprised to find that the bus wasn’t packed to its usual capacity. Maybe they don’t fill them as full on these long trips so that we will have more room? Oh, silly innocent white girls. No, there was another stop at another bus station before leaving Kigali. As it turns out, to make it really worth their while, on the long trips, they pack you in even more. Yes, there were 21 of us on this bus, 5 across in our row (why only us??) and it is at this moment, when we’re discreetly trying to count the number of people (it currently holds the record) that we discover that our window is the only one that doesn’t open. Deep breath, okay. It was funny more that anything else, except the last hour of the trip which is the most excruciatingly winding road I have ever been on. Imagine Portland to the coast stretched and contorted, going way too fast, on roads only wide enough for one car, but miraculously allowing cars, buses, huge trucks, cows, bicycles, motos, and tiny children to pass simultaneously. It was actually pretty amazing. There is definitely order in chaos, this was proof.
But we got there, no one died, and no one was carsick, which are really the goals on any journey like this. And when we got into Kibuye, we were wondering how to get to our guest house (no taxis) or even where it was (no planning ahead…) when a really nice girl saw our helplessness and offered us a lift. She spoke French, and she and her boyfriend even came to translate our check-in procedure. So we got to our room, which was AMAZING in every way (as in super comfy, came with mosquito nets, had HOT WATER, and looked directly out onto a beautiful porch sitting area and the most amazing view of the lake.) All for $20 a night. I love this place. We went down to the restaurant to get some food, and as we were walking by the tables I heard a group of girls speaking Québecois French. We went over to say hi, and it turns out that some of them go to my university! It took us an hour of conversation to realize that two of them are friends of two of my friends in Montreal, who separately put me in touch with people they knew who would be in Rwanda this summer, and who I had forgotten about completely until sending them an email the day before, which they had not even received yet. Amazing coincidence. They are here with Québec Sans Frontières (Quebec Without Borders) and are staying in villages outside of Gitarama. So, we ate with them and had a great time, and Saturday they invited us to go on with them to some islands on the lake, via a very sketchy boat that definitely had holes in the bottom. But hey, we’re still alive! We hiked, were swarmed by thousands of bats, swam, had genius tropical fruit and ordered some goat kabobs for lunch. From now on, when I see animals that are possible food sources, I will take care not to develop personal relationships with them right around lunchtime. But there was this cute goat that we said hi to when we got to the island. But when it was time to order lunch, we had pretty much forgotten about it, until we saw the guy who took our order go untie it, and shout something to his buddy, who left, reappeared with a machete, and took the goat to the other side of the island. About an hour later, he reappeared with some kabobs and lit a fire. We were obviously a bit surprised at the whole affair, but after the goat had sacrificed himself to feed us, it would be really insulting not to eat it, right? And they were definitely the best kebabs I’ve had this whole trip. The non-vegetarian thing is really working out well. Later we were sitting with our chairs partly in the water, enjoying island paradise with a cold beer, when Kirsten come over and says “Um, guys, I just threw up. A lot. I think I need to go back.”
Stranded on an island inhabited only by the guy who slaughtered our goat is not really the place you want to discover that someone has food poisoning. Luckily the boat was docked and everyone else was thinking about leaving soon anyway, so we left and she made it back to the guest house. She went back to the room, and I hung out with les québecoises, and the following morning Kirsten’s host family sent their driver to come get us. The bus ride back would have pretty much been impossible. She is staying with an American family here, and this was one of the circumstances that made us remember that sometimes, that’s really a good thing. (They also have a washing machine, which I might use at some point…)
So, right before we got in the car to come home, my stomach started feeling a bit interesting as well. But I just made myself wait until we got home before I allowed myself to feel sick. The ride was going okay, we were taking the curves pretty well, until we ran into someone’s face. Seriously, a woman was walking down the street, and our mirror smacked her in the face. I didn’t really see it happen, I just saw the mirror collapse inward (thank god they are made to do that!) and then a bunch of people gathered around and made the driver stop the car. Now, I see accidents a lot here, which is to be expected when the rules are taken lightly at best and so many types of traffic share the roads. Generally I think it is assumed that if you get hit, you’re the idiot for not getting out of the way. But, when you’re in a car, and you hit a pedestrian, even if she was walking in traffic (which she was) you can’t help but feel responsible. So Kirsten and I were really concerned, and a bit rattled. But the lady walked over to the car, she wasn’t bleeding, and we took her to the clinic and gave her some money. I guess that’s just how people deal with things like that here, although I still think about it and wonder if there wasn’t something else we should have done. I really hope she is okay. We made it back okay, and that’s the end of the weekend.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
An eventful weekend
So Lake Kivu did not disappoint. The weekend included the following events: the craziest bus ride of my life followed by being rescued by kind and helpful strangers, running into friends of friends from Montreal at our (amazingly beautiful) hotel, a very leaky boat ride, being attacked by thousands of bats, phenomenal scenery, personally meeting my lunch before eating it, and to top it off, our car running into someone's face on the way back. (She is okay, we went to the doctor.)
Friday, June 29, 2007
June 27
The strangest thing just happened: I was on my way home from the office with Megan, we take the same taxi, and we had just gotten off at the taxi park in Remera. We were walking to get taxi motos to go home, and were in the middle of a deep conversation, when she said to be careful about what is going on around us, not get too wrapped up in our conversation. I didn’t really know why she said that, but it’s good advice in general, so I said okay and kept walking. We were talking about the way that we are treated here, and the difficult situation we’re in, being white and being women.
If we are submissive, we submit because we are women, which is the norm here. [Note: I know that my understanding of Rwandan society is not comprehensive, and that gender inequality is a problem all over the world. So when I say that it is patriarchal, I don’t mean that as a condemnation, rather as an observation and a challenge for me to deal with. There definitely is a lot of inequality here, but every society has its own problems and concerns to deal with, and the Rwandese in particular have priorities like preventing another genocide, so it is not unreasonable that women’s rights are on the back-burner for the moment. I can’t be politically correct about everything!] But if we assert ourselves and demand equality or respect, it is because we are white, and it’s normal for white people to demand respect. (But not necessarily for women to do the same.) So, it’s tricky to know what to do sometimes. For example, twice this week I’ve seen convoys of army trucks with hundreds of soldiers drive by. I don’t want to stand by the road with my head down, looking meek so hopefully they won’t notice me. But, if I stand up straight and look at them like everyone else does, they stare and whistle and make lewd gestures and say things that I’m probably glad I don’t understand. So what do you do? I have been going with the head-down approach, but I hate it.
So we were having this conversation in the taxi, and just when we were getting out, the man sitting next to me grabbed my thigh as he was standing up. In these taxis, people touch. There is no way to avoid it when you’re that crammed in, and I’ve never felt that it was sexually-charged before. But this was definitely unnecessary and sustained one second too long. So, when we were off the taxi, I told her what had happened, and that tied into our discussion of the white/woman thing. Did he do that because I was a woman, as he would have done to a Rwandese woman as well? Or did he do it because I was white, because I so obviously don’t belong, because white people have taken power and respect from Africans for so long that (subconsciously of course) this was a way of reclaiming some? I am not suggesting that he had that in mind, but rather that in some way, it’s not as much of a transgression to do it to me, because it’s not demeaning a part of his own culture, but rather a part of a culture that has demeaned his for so long. Like in the movie Crash when Ludacris was more than happy to rob white people, but defended himself by saying that he would never steal from another black person.
Then the conversation morphed into the ambiguity of moments like that, where while it is happening, you’re not even sure of what it is, and then one second after it’s too late to slap his hand away, you realize that it was icky. (This happens on the metro in Montreal as well…) Just at that moment, we had to go through a dense crowd of people between two buses. Megan was behind me, and she was holding on to my backpack, and for a moment I felt someone get between us. I thought I felt my bag unzip, but I that would be impossible with her right there, holding onto it, right? But when we were out of the crowd, she asked if I had my wallet in the small pocket of my bag, which is where I usually keep it. (But no more, now it will get buried under a water bottle and a book.) And sure enough, the zipper was open and my wallet was gone. She said that she saw the guy take it, she saw it in his hand, but by the time she registered what had happened, it was too late to grab it, he was gone. Just like the thigh-grabbing. Really bizarre.
Luckily, things are so cheap here, that I usually don’t have more that the equivalent of $4 on me at any time, and today’s total loss was about 60 cents and one wallet that I didn’t even buy. So, as Megan said, I could have learned that lesson in a much more expensive way. But I still feel weird about it, and I’m not really sure why. I mean, it was definitely not as traumatic (or as much of a financial loss) as the time I got mugged in Brooklyn, but at the same time this was more sneaky and insidious. The guy didn’t have a gun or anything, he didn’t need it, he even took it while Megan was right there watching him.
The strangest thing just happened: I was on my way home from the office with Megan, we take the same taxi, and we had just gotten off at the taxi park in Remera. We were walking to get taxi motos to go home, and were in the middle of a deep conversation, when she said to be careful about what is going on around us, not get too wrapped up in our conversation. I didn’t really know why she said that, but it’s good advice in general, so I said okay and kept walking. We were talking about the way that we are treated here, and the difficult situation we’re in, being white and being women.
If we are submissive, we submit because we are women, which is the norm here. [Note: I know that my understanding of Rwandan society is not comprehensive, and that gender inequality is a problem all over the world. So when I say that it is patriarchal, I don’t mean that as a condemnation, rather as an observation and a challenge for me to deal with. There definitely is a lot of inequality here, but every society has its own problems and concerns to deal with, and the Rwandese in particular have priorities like preventing another genocide, so it is not unreasonable that women’s rights are on the back-burner for the moment. I can’t be politically correct about everything!] But if we assert ourselves and demand equality or respect, it is because we are white, and it’s normal for white people to demand respect. (But not necessarily for women to do the same.) So, it’s tricky to know what to do sometimes. For example, twice this week I’ve seen convoys of army trucks with hundreds of soldiers drive by. I don’t want to stand by the road with my head down, looking meek so hopefully they won’t notice me. But, if I stand up straight and look at them like everyone else does, they stare and whistle and make lewd gestures and say things that I’m probably glad I don’t understand. So what do you do? I have been going with the head-down approach, but I hate it.
So we were having this conversation in the taxi, and just when we were getting out, the man sitting next to me grabbed my thigh as he was standing up. In these taxis, people touch. There is no way to avoid it when you’re that crammed in, and I’ve never felt that it was sexually-charged before. But this was definitely unnecessary and sustained one second too long. So, when we were off the taxi, I told her what had happened, and that tied into our discussion of the white/woman thing. Did he do that because I was a woman, as he would have done to a Rwandese woman as well? Or did he do it because I was white, because I so obviously don’t belong, because white people have taken power and respect from Africans for so long that (subconsciously of course) this was a way of reclaiming some? I am not suggesting that he had that in mind, but rather that in some way, it’s not as much of a transgression to do it to me, because it’s not demeaning a part of his own culture, but rather a part of a culture that has demeaned his for so long. Like in the movie Crash when Ludacris was more than happy to rob white people, but defended himself by saying that he would never steal from another black person.
Then the conversation morphed into the ambiguity of moments like that, where while it is happening, you’re not even sure of what it is, and then one second after it’s too late to slap his hand away, you realize that it was icky. (This happens on the metro in Montreal as well…) Just at that moment, we had to go through a dense crowd of people between two buses. Megan was behind me, and she was holding on to my backpack, and for a moment I felt someone get between us. I thought I felt my bag unzip, but I that would be impossible with her right there, holding onto it, right? But when we were out of the crowd, she asked if I had my wallet in the small pocket of my bag, which is where I usually keep it. (But no more, now it will get buried under a water bottle and a book.) And sure enough, the zipper was open and my wallet was gone. She said that she saw the guy take it, she saw it in his hand, but by the time she registered what had happened, it was too late to grab it, he was gone. Just like the thigh-grabbing. Really bizarre.
Luckily, things are so cheap here, that I usually don’t have more that the equivalent of $4 on me at any time, and today’s total loss was about 60 cents and one wallet that I didn’t even buy. So, as Megan said, I could have learned that lesson in a much more expensive way. But I still feel weird about it, and I’m not really sure why. I mean, it was definitely not as traumatic (or as much of a financial loss) as the time I got mugged in Brooklyn, but at the same time this was more sneaky and insidious. The guy didn’t have a gun or anything, he didn’t need it, he even took it while Megan was right there watching him.
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