This is a bit of an exercise in nostalgia. It's been 10 years since we were volunteer fellows at ASYV. I found some writings in a journal from when we visited for graduation in January of 2016.
I had forgotten what it means to be in Rwanda. The smell of eucalyptus, burning charcoal, grilled meat, acacia blooms, greywater turning black, plumeria flowers, yeasted bread leavening and tropical lushness. I had forgotten the intensity of the sun, the haze in the air in the dry season. I had forgotten the rush of air flying past on the back of a moto, weaving through Kigali traffic at night. I had forgotten the staring- of being an outsider. I had forgotten the quiet, warm, welcoming nature of Rwandan people.
I had forgotten so many words and the found them. Amakuru, nimeza, murakoze, ijoro giza, maramutse, ijana, amata, amazi, amagi, amahoro....
I delighted in seeing faces of friends. Of learning the joy, pain, successes and challenges from the past three years. I am reminded of what it is like to have your heart, wide open. What it feels like to be living on the edge. What it truly means to be a resilient human. To be strong, compassionate, adaptable, hopeful. To love in this complex world.
The nostalgia I feel brings up many memories of friends and experiences we had here. I long to reminisce with many people who are now scattered to the wind. I makes me laugh at the silly mistakes, at being pattern illiterate in a cultural context, of learning to have new eyes, new ears and a humbleness to explore the unknown.
Murakoze Rwanda. I missed you. I am happy to visit.
