September 2 - Danny

Mfite imyaka makumyabiri (I am 20 years old)

Ndashaka kujya ku Kacyiru. Wamfasha? (I want to go to Kacyiru. Can you please help me?)

These were two phrases which I have started to use incessantly. Not only because these phrases are easy to say (relatively speaking), but because they were both survival tools.

With Erneste's family in Kicukiro

The age one was used for me to explain my status. Student. Umunyeshuri. Innocent and foreign yet eager and confident. I began to understand that there was a certain likeableness associated with being a student or a researcher here in Kigali—I was starting to grasp the power of storytelling. Each person has some sort of tale which is just waiting to be uncovered and publicized by a foreigner. It could be a source of empowerment and self-efficacy; genocidal rescuers, survivors, and perpetrators are simply awaiting attentive ears.

The other phrase is used every day before I get on the bus for school.  It helps to know your destination, and people are willing to help if you try to speak in Kinyarwanda. Assimilation comes with the constant challenge of language barriers, but I am starting to become more sensitive to intonation and non-verbal cues. It’s the only way to survive and possibly grasp what others are trying to convey.

Erneste, my host brother, shared some of his traditional Rwandan music with me today. I could understand some of it…especially the lines dedicated to love. The main singer stated that they would never love again after loving one girl and one girl only. Following the tradition of being very affectionate, loyal, and caring people, Rwandans also value monogamy and the concept of “true love.” My brother slowly recounted his tales of being in love and searching for “the one.” His girlfriend’s name is Lillyana, and although they do not get to see each other often because of school and distance constraints, their love is often expressed through pithy text messages and daily phone conversations. Erneste is sensitive to her needs, and Lillyana understands Erneste’s undying commitment to education (attending Tumba University in Rulindo) and his dedication to housing international students on his spare time.

In the evening, Erneste received a phone call from Lillyana. Humming the tune to Shania Twain’s “You’re Still the One,” Erneste pranced around the house like a giddy schoolboy, running into a couple of chairs and newly plastered corners. He finally settled himself at the dining table and sophisticatedly poured himself a glass of lukewarm citrus Fanta. He put his hand to his chin and glowered at my computer for a while before saying, “Do you want to know something about love?”

My brother, Erneste
(At his home in Kicukiro)

I replied with a simple, “Sure.”

He romanticized, “Love is safety. I believe it’s the time when you feel most secure and cherished.”

I interjected, “What about challenge? What about the idea of growing together and being each other’s way to becoming better people?” He looked at me for a while with confused eyes and an unsteady grin.

“I have never thought of it that way. Challenge. Interesting. I think you’re right. It is a constant challenge now that I think about it more…it takes a challenging commitment to be together.”

Erneste and I were beginning to learn from each other. Love, acceptance, gender norms and several other topics would be the main sources of our philosophical conversations…For now, Erneste enjoyed his Fanta and I enjoyed the chance to think about love and the fruitful inzitizi (challenges) ahead.

“There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the endless love in life.” - Federico Fellini