Home

I am sitting in the warmest computer lab in the basement of the Angus L. MacDonald library on the St. Francis Xavier University campus. I'm trying to arrange my pictures that are saved on 2 memory cards, 2 flash drives, and a CD. It's a disorganized mess of memories and experiences that is taking a significant amount of time to sort through, both on the screen and in my head. The other students here are working quietly, their papers neatly arranged. A camera, cords and flash drives, CDs, an ipod, water and juice, an african print bag and 2 boxes of kleenex litter my part of the table, a testimony to how jumbled this transition seems to be, and how the Canadian cold has hit me full force.

The past few weeks have been full of countless stories, journeys and airplane rides. Despite moto-karma finally getting me I still made it to my farewell dinners, milestones that once seemed so distant. I felt appreciated and accepted, honored and humbled. The missing has alreday begun. The next day I got myself to Ethiopia, where I visited with a fellow intern and dear friend. We enjoyed a week of catching up, seeing the sites, and learning from eachothers' experiences. Ethiopia is a beautiful part of the world and I loved gaining a better understanding of the rich culture, pride and history I found there. I spent one final night in Kigali celebrating my birthday and saying goodbyes that were far from easy. My birthday had me in transit, hastened through scrabble games and bagels, friends and stories. The cold here is lessened by the warmth with which I've been recieved. It feels good to be back with people I love. It feels good to tell my stories over familiar coffees in familiar places. Antigonish doesn't change much.

I have, though. And the changes are more evident now that I'm back in Canada. I don't know how to cross the street in a place where people stop for you. I'm tempted to haggle with the taxi driver for a better price. The cost of beer blows me away and I'm confused by nickles and pennies. I want to kiss people on both cheeks when I see them and shake their hand when I leave. I sometimes feel like an awkward teenager, unsure and doubting. I go from loving to resenting very quickley - Shopper's Drug Mart is either a haven of fun things or an overwhelming shopping experience. I flip through the endless channels on TV in a trance. The choice, variety and selection excites me and upsets me all at once.

Life is easy here. Familiar. Smooth. Efficient. Yet I am faced with new challenges: the challenge of taking what I have learned or come to value and applying it to a new context in an appropriate manner. The challenge of recognizing that my reality is not everyone's reality. The challenge of navigating slushy winter streets. The challenge of organizing the mess of pictures in front of me, so many memories and stories that take more than a thousand words to describe. The challenge of defining home when my heart is in so many different places.

Opinion Editorial

Here is an opinion editorial I wrote for my Canadian Organisation. It was actually really hard to write because I'm still sorting out what my opinions are. I hope it rings true.

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I came to Africa for me. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Throughout my six month CIDA internship with the Coady International Institute, I have found myself wondering why I am in Rwanda. As a nurse, I don't have to venture far to find people to help or ways to make an impact in my community. So often, however, that is what draws people to Africa. Volunteers of all varieties find themselves in the “Dark Continent” trying to make a difference to the extreme poverty they see on television ads. As a result, there is an exploding volunteer tourism industry that preys on human compassion, disguising self- indulgence under the cloak of altruism.

But the personal benefit that comes from these experiences must also be recognised.

There are many people who try to deliver projects in Africa. Some of these are attempted without considering their sustainability or ethical impact, made to help people feel good about helping others when, really, it is easier to achieve large sustainable impacts against problems within our own society at home. What cannot be found at home, however, is the personal growth and maturity that comes from working overseas.

The experience of living and working in another culture and bearing witness to the harsh challenges that face the developing world contributes to a crucial global perspective and cultural understanding. This is of great value to the big picture, in some ways, more than any actual development results, and it is important to explore this two-way process. A lot of personal gain comes from volunteer work; but generosity is meant to feel good, and further benefits come from the experience if this is recognised.

As globalisation dynamically connects the world it is our responsibility to become active citizens of this new global community. In the age of environmental crisis, international conflict and extreme inequity it is increasingly important to understand human connectedness. We can no longer believe that our actions have individual consequences; we must explore our world in order to see just how far our reach extends. Only from an understanding of our global community can one begin to face the development and human challenges within.

It pains me to hear praises of how I am “here helping them”. For it is this divide between “us” and “them” that we must overcome. The relationships that I have formed in Rwanda have benefited me considerably, and I've enjoyed creating friends from strangers. As cultural differences evolve into cultural norms for me, I no longer see different nations as foreign, unapproachable, or, as often treated, lesser. Embracing our underlying similarities is the first step to treating each person of every race and creed like a fellow human being. This personal, intra-personal, and global understanding has far greater significance than any development work I have strived to achieve in Rwanda.

Many volunteers, interns and professionals alike expect to experience developing countries under the pretence of making a difference. Lots of good work is being done, but it is imperative to see the experience beyond the immediate contribution and understand the personal value. When overseas work is stripped down to its true impact it clearly becomes a personal experience rich with educational opportunities. It is important to see it as such, without guilt or regret, for only then can one fully embrace the lessons learned and the value will be truly appreciated. To be honest with myself I have to admit that I came to Africa for me. And because of the personal growth, understanding, and global perspective, there is so much right with that.

Mixed around Upside down Rightside up Parallels and Crossroad

I am feeling...

Happy.Sad.Anxious.Tired.Excited.Curious.Peaceful.Sorrowful.Longing.Fulfilled.Friendship.Lonliness.Confused.

I have one week left in Rwanda. I don't know what to think about that. The irony is that I'm finally starting to get it. I feel a little anxious about delving into another transition phase of my life when I only really accustomised to this one within the last month. I have realised that a lot of my longing for home has been a coping mechanism for dealing with the difficulties, stresses and challenges of bearing witness to the injustice of our world. The poverty, inequality, and genocide are hard to grasp, and I'm only now allowing myself to jump head first into them. I think this is because the end is in sight, and if I cannot cope I know there is a way out: I'm going home.

For a long time I have stood on the water's edge, trying to navigate the lake without getting in. Had I known how hard that is, I would have jumped in sooner. Even though the shock of the cold water might strike hard at first, adjustment happens faster when you delve right in. Now that I'm here the water is nice, and I'm reluctant to climb back out.

Then, at the same time, I cannot wait. The next stage is enticing and exciting. I am especially anxious to be back with friends and loved ones. I'm looking forward to exchanging stories and unwinding my experience. A lot of it was too much to process while I was here and I know it will take time. I am eager for the future so I can figure out the present. What I have figured out, though, is this: with so much cruelty in the world, there is only time for kindness. I will carry this lesson close to my heart that aches for this country, humanity, and our world.

Tic Tac

Last night, I shared a tic tac. Well, three, since it's impossible to tap only one out of the package. The small oval one calorie breath mint made Peter smile and earned me many blessings. A security guard that I met asking for directions one night, Peter has come to say hello to me every time I have walked by his building since our introduction in September. We always chat a little, his contagious smile making me laugh. He told me that I have a "good heart" - I don't know what proof he has, as all I have offered is greetings. And a tic tac. And maybe that is enough.

Zanzibar

Oldest Church in Africa, built where the Slave Market was

Fishing Boats

Allyways of Stonetown

On the Spice Tour

Street Food by Night

My Hammock

The fierce breeze off the ocean kept me cool in the hot equatorial sun. One leg dangles off the edge of the hammock, my big toe pushing a little so I swung back and forth to the rythm of the surf crashing in the distance. The tide goes out for hundreds of meters, leaving behind pools of turqouis water and stranded old fishing boats. Wooden pegs dot the choral patterns, and fishermen and women glide through them, their colorful kangas and dark skin a stark contrast to the blinding white sand.

I have found Paradise.

The Indian ocean is like bath water, startlingly warm in the late afternoon. Beach days spent reading, relaxing, riding bikes down the long stretch of sand, and eating food infused with exotic new flavours. It took awhile to make it to the beach, with four nights spent in Dar Es Salaam and another five in Stonetown, the capital city of Zanzibar. Christmas was special, spent with a wonderful Tanzanian family who welcomed us with uncontested hospitality. We ate traditional foods and learned how to cook them, too: a cultural exchange worth the sleepless hot sticky nights in Dar. Stonetown was absolutely magical. Winding streets filled with the influence of Portugeuse, Arabic, African and German pasts. Calls from the mosques echoed through the narrow allyways as vendors with a wide selection of treasures called out “looking is free!”. The history and blend of cultures pulsated through the city. To be honest, it was nice to have other tourists around as I got to be more annonymous again. The highlight was street food, a medly of cooking stalls and drinks in the dark night on a road filled with people and a carnival-like atmostphere. The Zanzibar pancakes alone would be worth going back for.

But the best was the beach. We stayed at Paradise Beach Bungalows on the southeast coast – a quieter stretch of beach than the north where I spent New Years at an all night beach party (after some fun daladala rides to get up there). At one point I lay in the sand completely alone in my own patch of tranquility. Masaii played Bow with me and I enjoyed the hammocks strung between rustling tall palm trees. Long walks down the seashell filled beach in the light of the cresent moon were peaceful and beautiful. Zanzibar was all the magic I heard it would be.

It was lonely, though. Christmas just wasn't the same without my family. I am trying to get better at enjoying experiences for and with myself, but so far it just hasn't been as wonderful as sharing it with loved ones. Many times throughout the trip I caught myself thinking “so and so would love this!” or “I wish ___ was here”. Now I know I'm capable of doing it on my own, and in the future I'll choose together. It's just more fun that way. Until then, I'll keep sharing my experiences through words and pictures and soaking them up while I can.