My three months in Rwanda have been nothing short of a welcoming, challenging, exciting, endearing adventure. Kigali has embraced me and captured my heart. Despite all of the hours that I have spent lost and wandering the streets of Kigali (like taking the wrong turn and walking to Nyabagogo instead of my bus stop in Mu Mujyi) and the countless other challenges I have faced while integrating, I have found myself completely comfortable with being uncomfortable, and I have the Rwandan people to thank for that. When I arrived in August, Rwanda’s aesthetic beauty was apparent, but as soon as I met and moved in with my host family in Gikondo, I realised that the beauty of Rwanda is much deeper than the litter-free, green City of Kigali that showcases progress and development. My family has selflessly welcomed me into their home, shared their food, provided for me like they would their own kin, and made me feel like I belong exactly there. My day would not be complete without tormenting my little brothers, laughing with my sister, sharing my daily adventures with my parents, and spending some time trying to help in the kitchen with dinner. My parents’ good intentions and gestures have gone beyond making me feel at home for my time here as I have been told I will always be their daughter and I am always welcome in their home. But this hospitality and loving nature is not exclusive to my Rwandan family. I remember feeling so lonely and different on the bus rides from school to home in the evening during my first few weeks in Kigali. I was the person on the bus who did everything I could to find a window seat in the back of the bus, prayed I would not have to talk to anyone (at that point I knew no Kinyarwanda), and avoided making eye contact with fellow passengers. I was also the person who feared getting lost because that meant I would have to try to break out of my initially shy character to attempt to ask for help. After getting lost many times, I learned that simply saying “wamfasha” is enough to get help from anyone and everyone that is near. Along with this, I now know that the Rwandan people will try to do everything in their power to help me, despite the language barrier, including grabbing many other individuals who also do not speak English to try to help. Ninety-five per cent of the time, once I am able to communicate where I want to go, someone will physically walk me to my desired destination and maintain a conversation, no matter how far it is and without ever seeming in any way inconvenienced. The people’s reserved nature seems to disappear when the opportunity to lend a helping hand arises. Today, the bus rides and the adventures that come with the rides are some of my favourite things about my life in Rwanda and have facilitated some of my greatest friendships and connections. In addition to hospitality, Rwanda’sbountiful and social culture is certainly emphasised when I attend birthday parties and other events with my host family. With what seems to be more food and drinks than an entire army could consume, enjoying everyone’s company lasts late into the night and sometimes until the morning. If the care and preparation that the host takes to make every guest feel at home and welcome is not enough to convince a guest of the host’s gracious and generous intentions, the host saying “karibu” in such a genuine and warm voice is sure to do the trick. This is not just the case for organised gatherings, however. I remember when I spontaneously visited a neighbour girl and her mother and brother. The mother sent for someone to bring me any beverage I wanted. Once I finished the apple juice, she insisted I have tea or milk. The “quick” visit to say hi easily turned into a couple of hours. Without mentioning any moreof my experiences, because I do not think there is enough space for that, I simply want to express how grateful I am to be hosted by such wonderful and inspiring people in such a unique and amazing country. As my time in Kigali comes towards an end, I cannot help but feel a deep sadness when I think about returning to my home in the United States. I am constantly thinking about when and how I will return to my Rwandan home. I have never felt as connected to a city and people aside from my own. I will always remember the good nature of the Rwandans I have encountered and will take such characteristics home with me. The following phrase started out as something funny I would say in response to being called “muzungu”, but as Rwanda becomes more and more a part of me, I find an increasing amount of truth in it: “Sindi umuzungu. Ndi umunyarwandakazi.” The writer is an American student who is currently in Rwanda for a three-month study trip focusing on reconciliation and peace-building at the School of International Training. ashley.Harbin@park.edu
