Three hopes, by Sarah E.

Sarah Epplin

Education 3 -- Kirehe District, Eastern Province

Three hopes.

Every Peace Corps Volunteer encounters social differences that rock to their core. Many of my fellow female volunteers comment on difficult conversations and situations they are involved in due to their sex. All of us try to put a positive spin on them, out of the hope that a few words or an action will put a new idea into the minds of our neighbors, friends, and coworkers at site. Planting a seed, you could say. I will tell the stories of three difficult conversations I’ve had and the hopes that follow them.

During the first three months in Rwanda, I lived with a host family. I lived with a mom, dad, two sisters (11 and 17), and a brother (12). I won’t go into details, but toward the end of my stay, my host brother did something to me that was disrespectful and wrong. I was told that for his punishment, he would be beaten and taken to the church to give his confession. I told the family that I didn’t want him to be beaten. I wanted to talk with him. I sat in the sitting room with my Kinyarwanda dictionary in my lap. When he came into the room, he knelt on the floor (this is typical punishment as someone in Rwanda is giving you a “talking to”). I told him that I wanted to know his reason for disrespecting me. He said, “Satan is evil.” I told him that wasn’t his reason – that he must understand he has his own mind and brain. Over and over again, his only response was “Satan is evil.” That, to me, was not acceptable. So I told him how I felt. I had lived with them for nearly three months. I tried my best to me a good Rwandan – to dress like a Rwandan because I wanted to respect the culture, to speak in Kinyarwanda, and so on. And then he decides to make his own decision that affects me, that disrespects me. I told him that it wasn’t okay and that “Satan is evil” is not his reason, that his own mind made the decision. I ended the scolding when he started to cry. I noticed, then, the look on Deanne’s face. She was my 11 year old host sister. She was polite and did everything she was told. She was the most loyal and sweet girl I’d ever met. But the look on her face after I’d just scolded her brother was priceless. She looked as though a whole new world had been opened up. That she learned she could speak her mind and say how she felt. I’ve never regreted scolding her brother out of the hope that she’ll always stand up for herself and ask for the reasons.

During my first few weeks at site, I spent a lot of time in cafes, talking with people and eating keke. Most of the conversations centered around my marital status – people just couldn’t get how a 23-year-old girl was single…and wanted to be single. During one of these conversations, a man in his 40s walked into the café, sat down, and listened. He interrupted the conversation and asked me, “When do you want to get married?” I told him I didn’t know. Everyone laughed, as I’d expected. He then asked how old I was. I told him. Then he said in a super matter-of-fact tone, “When a Rwandan girl is 21, she wants a husband.” So then I said, “I’m American. In America, we think you should get married when you have love. God likes love, so it is good. If you are 18, 20, 30, 50, not a problem. You can get married when you have love.” And to that, he shut up. When I glanced around, hoping I hadn’t offended anyone terribly, I made eye contact with an old lady (who holds the epitome of Rwandan culture and respect), who had been quiet the entire time. She smiled at me and nodded her head. If the old lady agrees with me, I thought, then I guess I’m not so crazy in this culture afterall! My hope was that little seeds had been planted in all their minds, especially the man’s, to slowly begin to think that marriage isn’t the only option for a girl who is 21.

A fellow teacher at my school asked me questions about American culture that interested him. He asked me about the relationship between husbands and wives in America. (Generally, I try to paint the picture as accurate as possible – like saying, “Some Americans think…but other Americans think…and so on.”) I said that Americans believe that women and men are equal, so in a home, for example, the wife may cook dinner one night but the husband may cook dinner the next night. Then he said, “Americans think that women and men are the same. What about with strength? Women are not stronger than men. Women cannot build. Women cannot farm.” I laughed at this and told him that I think some Rwandan women are stronger than men, as I see many women every day working on their fields for maybe 12 hours and then I see their husbands drinking all day. He seemed startled by my response, but then he asked me how to become a western man. I said that all he needs to do is say to his wife, “Wife, I love you. I want to help you. Teach me how to cook boiled bananas.” And then once he learns, he can cook them for her. I was frustrated by this conversation for a few days, but now I’m glad it happened out of the hope that maybe he asked his wife how to cook boiled bananas.