Dear Rwanda

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 had forgotten what it is like to be sticky and hot all day. The sweet bubbly taste of fanta citron whispered across my tongue with memories of visiting families, sitting in a bar with friends telling stories. I had forgotten the earthy bitter tastes of ibishimbo and inorgi. The rich and smooth taste of umuceri and isombe.

 

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.