understand me

“Understand me.” 

In Kinyarwanda this word is “umva,” the imperative of kumva which is to hear, to listen, to understand.  When folks want your attention they say, “umva,” “listen.”  It’s not impolite, it’s common, something everyone says.  It’s like how we say, “hey” to get someones attention (“hey, let me tell you what happened today...”).  Today a young man said in English, “Understand me.” I promptly gave him my attention. “I would like to know the name of this in English,” as he pointed to a chicken.  “Chicken,” I said.  “Kitchen,” he replied.  I stifled a giggle.  “The chicken is in the kitchen,” I recited in my head.  This little saying my site mate taught to her students who where always calling chickens kitchens, a  common language mistake.  For some strange reason it’s even a mistake I’ve made.  That’s how I learned the “chicken is in the kitchen” thing.  It’s tough because the word for kitchen is igikoni. When you’re thinking in Kinyarwanda all day and you’re standing out by the igikoni and shooing away the inkoko, and you’re talking to your one English speaking friend, you sometimes accidentally say kitchen when you mean chicken.  Chicken.  Kitchen.  They sound similar, right?  

A few days ago I came to work and this is how I was greeted by the high school girls working as interns at the health center for a few weeks:  “Congratulations!” 

“For what?” I said in English (they like to practice English as much as possible since their entire education system suddenly switched from French to English just a few years ago and none of their teachers are great English speakers). 

“You are smart!” the girl responded in all sincerity. 

Haha!! Congratulations! You are smart! Exactly the way I would like to begin every day of my life. Too bad from there I went on to sit in a staff meeting for an hour where I struggled to keep up with basic dialogue about the patients.

Sunday I went to church with a woman I work with at the health center.  We went to town for church and then went out to eat lunch at a fabulous (read: less than a dollar for a hella Rwandan food, including, of course, french fries with mayonnaise) buffet.  At the end of the meal she leaned back, patted her belly and said, “I am empty.”  

“I think you mean you’re full, Aline, urahaze.”

“Oui! I am full! Ibiryo byenshi (much food)!” She corrected herself smiling and laughing. 

The sweet little lady I have been eating lunch and dinner with says this all the time too.  Somehow somewhere the “full” and “empty” lesson got mixed up.  I, on the other hand, in speaking Kinyarwanda, have the same problem with open and close.  Don’t know the difference and for some reason I have a mental block against learning it. 

Whenever the kids in my neighborhood see me they say, “Oh, Amanda!” They call it out from great distances.  I thought it was really sweet and had no idea why they said it like that until today.  I was walking with my counterpart and when I laughed in response to another, Oh, Amanda, he said, “‘Oh’ is a salutation.”  Got it.  So there’s a reason for the oh.

And so goes the slowly revealing mystery that is language learning.  As frustrating and depressing as it sometimes is, however, I’m becoming convinced that total immersion is the way to go.  During training we studied language for more than four hours 3 days a week.  It was tedious and grueling.  I sometimes hated my language teacher and other times loved him.  It felt like we were living in a jigsaw puzzle and all the pieces were flipped upside down so you had no idea where to place them.  Day by day (if we were having a good day) a piece of language and culture would be flipped over and we could finally see where to put it. Now, everyone in my village loves to talk about how good I am an Kinyarwanda.  It’s great until we get past greetings and basic conversation about family and health.  Then I stare dumbfounded and apologies for not being able to say anything else.  I’m still waiting for the day when I moved beyond talking about what I can talk about to what I want to talk about.  There’s so much I want to say and understand. 

Some other things I’ve done this week are...

... watched some young men make mandazis (really good triangular donuts) in the bakery I just discovered in my village.  Very exciting.  

... made appointments with three community leaders to have participatory community analysis meetings in their areas (including waiting outside their offices for a ridiculous amount of time and felt like I was waiting for the Wonderful Wizard of Oz)

... searched for dance practice, but did not actually find any dancers. I’ve been told there’s a traditional Rwandese dance (Intore) group in my village on Wednesday afternoons, but I have yet to find them practicing. 

... prepared my field for planting.  I also took pictures of said field, but left the camera at home just now.

... got my church on twice this weekend. Yep, Saturday and Sunday.  Adventist then Baptist.  Rwandans sure to love to pray.  Actually, I’m getting pretty good at sitting still on small benches for 4 hours at a time.  

... road a semi-broken bike home from church on Sunday racing a thunderstorm.  Did I mention I was wearing a skirt and tights too?  And it was already raining when I was halfway home?  Yea... that was pretty awesome.  To make myself feel better I made tea, ate cookies, and watched TV on the computer all afternoon. 

... finally got some furniture in my house!!! Hurray! Just in time to receive special visitors in two weeks! 

All in all, things are going pretty well here in Kabere Village.  I’m looking forward to planning Global Handwashing Day (Oct 15, let’s get excited!) and doing the participatory community analysis activities.  They nerdy development student in me can’t wait to tell you all about daily schedules, seasonal calendars, and community mapping.