Stop telephoning me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e

There is better cell phone coverage in Rwanda than in much of rural America (granted, the country's the size of Maryland, but still). Go to the smallest possible barely-a-village you can find, and someone there will own a cell phone. It doesn't matter if they don't have electricity; many small shops or even government offices will allow people to charge their phones for a small fee.

It's easy and relatively cheap to get yourself a phone number. There are no contracts to sign up for. You buy a SIM card from a little corner store, for $1.70 or less. You pop this into any cell phone, and you're good to go. The most economical phone model only costs about $16. Then you buy phone credit as you go in the form of a little card with a code you punch into your phone. You can check your credit balance on the phone at any time. It's pretty efficient.

You are only charged for outgoing calls, never for incoming. Consequently, if someone wants to talk with you but they're low on credit, they will "beep" or "flash" you -- that is, call you so it rings once, then quickly hang up. If you are the recipient of a flash, you are expected to call that person back (and spend your own money on it). It's a pretty annoying practice, if you ask me. There are only a handful of people from whom I'll tolerate a flash.

When you do answer the phone, who speaks first? This is always a fun game. A lot of times here, it's the person making the call, not the one answering. I can't help but find it a little disconcerting when I am just bringing the phone to my ear and I already hear someone greeting me. But sometimes they do wait for you to speak first, which brings us to the next question -- what does one say when answering the phone? The French "Allô" ("Hello") is possible, but more common is the French "Oui?" (or Kinyarwanda translation, "Karame?") At first I hated this, because it's like you're answering and just snapping, "Yeah? What?" But I confess that now this is actually how I answer the phone when speaking with Rwandans.

And to end the conversation? Well, that's easy. Just hang up. No need for goodbye! When you've said all you need to say, hit "end" -- as quickly as possible, it seems. You get charged by the second, after all.

Now in the U.S. we have a certain social convention that says you're not supposed to call most people, say, before 8 AM or after 9:30 PM. This rule DOES NOT APPLY in Rwanda, to my deep regret. Here it's acceptable to call absolutely anytime you feel like it. I have woken up to the sound of my phone ringing as early as 4:40 AM (seriously) and as late as 10:45 PM (I tend to get in bed at 8), and these calls were from people I barely know. Charming.

But if you don't answer the phone when someone calls you? Well, God help you. Rwandans cannot fathom what you could EVER POSSIBLY be doing that would preclude you from picking up their call. It is not only acceptable, but in fact expected that you answer your phone any time it is ringing. This includes: if you are on public transportation, if you are a teacher teaching a class, if you are sitting in a meeting, if you are in church, even if you are the guest of honor at a special ceremony. Accordingly, when I don't answer my phone because perhaps I've decided that I don't want to speak to that particular caller, the person will continue to call. And call. And call. And call. Twenty times consecutively is not unheard of.

We have another social convention in the U.S. that says you probably shouldn't pass around someone's phone number without their consent (be it implicit or explicit). Nope. Not here. Rwandans share my number like it's going out of style. I can't confirm the following chain of events, but I honestly believe something like this has happened more than once:

1: I give a moto-taxi driver my number while arranging a pick-up.
2: This driver then, I can only assume, tells all his friends, "Hey, guys! I met a muzungu, I even have her number!"
3: Random men I've never met start calling me incessantly (flashing me, more likely) and attempt to practice their very, very poor English.

Sigh.

So the title of this blog comes from, of course, the Lady Gaga song "Telephone." The lyric above is what I often sing out loud while trying to send a telepathic message to my relentless caller.

To close, in other news, today marks two years since I first swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mauritania. I shaved my head. Hair grows back.


(If you never got to before, you can see more head-shaving photos here.)

Welcome to my crib

(I know I promised this some time ago, but if I may quote two clichés: easier said than done & better late than never...)

So I hope you're happy! =P I just sat in this chair for the better part of an entire day in order to upload this short video, a tour of my house in the village. I wanted to add some captions to it, but at this point I'm too sick of sitting here! You're all smarties -- I think you'll be able to figure most things out. And sorry the quality isn't great, but it gives you an idea.

Disclaimer: For the record, I know that I'm not "roughing it" as much as I could be, and not nearly as much as I did before in Mauritania. I'm grateful for my nice little house here!

Mama meets Africa!

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Total time Mom spent in Africa: 21 days
Total time on public transportation: 55 hours

But, if I can speak for both of us, it was a glorious time! First we spent four days at my site, the little village of Buyoga. Usually I am the only white person for miles around, so since my mother doubled the local muzungu population, we attracted quite a lot of attention. In particular, my students were SO excited to receive her. They even arranged a precious little welcome ceremony, where different groups performed traditional dance and modern hip-hop routines. There were also a number of "speeches" made in careful halting English.

It was really fun to get to share with my mom how I live here. First order of business, a tutorial on the squat-latrine -- yes, it may sound scary, but I pride myself on keeping mine really clean! Then I showed Mom how I wash my hands, cook food, wash dishes, bathe, do laundry... no simple tasks without running water. I also taught her about the different rhythm of village life, and I was pleased she was already getting the idea when after the second day she was slipping on her pajamas by 6:30pm! (Once the sun goes down, what is there to be awake for?)

After Buyoga, it was on to the south of Rwanda. We visited Butare a.k.a Huye, where there is an informative national museum and a newly opened ice cream shop (the first of its kind in Rwanda!). I also took my mom to our favorite local "pork joint," where we buy fried pork by the kilo. My friends and I typically share a platter between just two people, so that's 1.1 pounds of meat apiece. Mmmm. Then we had a lovely drive through a rainforest (Nyungwe) to reach Nyamasheke, right on Lake Kivu. There was a Peace Corps kickball tournament there, so Mama got to meet some of my PCV friends.

Next came the big day we'd especially been waiting for, the gem of tourism in Rwanda: GORILLA TRACKING! Less than 700 mountain gorillas exist worldwide, and all of them live in the wild in a region that spans Rwanda, Uganda, and D.R. Congo. (These are the same gorillas of Dian Fossey/Gorillas in the Mist fame.) For visiting the gorillas, the limited number of daily permits sells out months in advance, but we had secured ours for July 27.

We got a car to drive us up to the entrance of Volcanoes National Park, where we were assigned to a group of gorillas. Ours was called Hirwa, which means Luck. There is a maximum of 8 people who may visit any group on a given day. You set out together with a park guide, who communicates via walkie-talkie with trackers who locate the animals. The gorillas make new nests every night, but normally only travel about 1 kilometer per day.

We walked for about an hour, ascending the mountain, pushing our way through the dense forest. Then the guide told us to leave all our things with the guards who were with us, and we were able to bring only our cameras as we continued. And suddenly, there they were. Right in front of us. In a small clearing, the massive silverback "daddy" lounged on his stomach, scratching his chin, completely indifferent to our company. A mama (one of six in the family) tended her two tots in a bush to our left. The rule in the park is to maintain a distance of 7 meters from the gorillas -- but the gorillas themselves of course don't mind this restriction, and one pushed right by us when we evidently were in the way of his crossing. It was incredible!

We were allowed one hour to spend observing the gorillas, an hour that passed far too quickly but was unforgettable. My photos aren't spectacular because I don't have a fancy enough camera and flashes were forbidden (plus I'm sure my hands were shaking!), but I do have a few shots and I managed to post one video too:



Mom and I spent a lovely afternoon and overnight in Gisenyi on Lake Kivu before we crossed the border north to Uganda. We have a friend from home, Janet, who's been there for five years now working as an engineer, so we stayed with her and enjoyed her generous hospitality. She lives with a Ugandan friend "Mama Jordan" (meaning the mother of first-born Jordan) and her two children, Jordan and little Janet. While in Uganda, we traveled to Jinja, self-proclaimed adventure capital of East Africa. We white-water rafted on the Nile River! It was awesome, yet another truly memorable experience. We camped right on the shores there, and then the next day we hiked around Mabira Forest and spotted some monkeys.

We also accompanied Janet on a site visit to consult on some local water projects. It was neat just to see more of the countryside and to compare. In general, my impression of Uganda was that the poor are poorer and the rich are richer than in Rwanda -- but I don't know if that's accurate. There is an abundance of street food, which is heavenly since it's illegal in Rwanda. There is also more litter, though. The landscape is different, too, because whereas Rwanda is one rolling hill after another, Uganda has a considerable amount of flat space, and at a lower altitude (therefore hotter). We visited a tiny rural church literally made out of sticks, and a lavishly funded orphanage/school where the children have an impressive show choir:



Our last couple days together were spent relaxing and unwinding a bit back in Kigali. After mostly roughing it in "austere" rooms with questionable foam-pad beds and occasional hot water, we upped the ante a bit and lodged in relative extravagance at Step Town Motel, for which I'd like to give an enthusiastic recommendation. They just opened within the past year, so they're pretty unknown in Rwanda, but we had a fabulous stay and the staff were excellent.

I whittled my array of photos down to a manageable amount, so please enjoy. (The fact that I was able to upload this many pics AND two videos is courtesy also of Step Town Motel and its incomparable wireless internet!) You can browse through the slideshow below, or click through to the external Picasa album to see the photos in larger format.