The End.

During my 2 years of Peace Corps service:

I’ve been lied to, mocked, cheated, stolen from, humiliated, scorned, resented, mistrusted, abused; I’ve similarly been accepted, admired, respected, celebrated, assisted, encouraged, housed, fed, supported – loved.

I’ve made a mastery of bucket baths & bathing in (maybe) 3 liters of water; I’ve survived on roughly 60 liters of water for a week or more. I’ve had amoebic dysentery, twice, and bacterial diarrhea more times than I can count. I’ve used a hole in the earth as my “bathroom.” I’ve shared mugs, utensils, plates, banana leaves, straws with strangers out of cultural respect; I’ve eaten bugs, solidified cow urine, goat intestines, and countless foods I can’t identify; I’ve eaten tomatoes and onions –only– for weeks; I’ve drunk a liter of milk a day during the rainy seasons.

I’ve been spit on for luck.  I’ve had a mushroom pop through the wall of my mud house.  I’ve urinated in bushes, maize fields, cow stalls, behind a stack of mud bricks –you name it– because latrines are still an anomaly.  I’ve been pinched, punched, pulled, grabbed and squeezed by men. I’ve been groped, slapped, smacked, pushed, and hugged by women. I’ve received, on average, 5 marriage proposals and 7 marriage offerings a week – a week.

I’ve been relentlessly ogled at as though I were a golden dinosaur. I’ve fallen asleep every night to a buzzing symphony of mosquitoes outside my mosquito net. I’ve read, prepared lessons, and studied by candlelight. I’ve ridden 3-people-to-a-moto more often than not. I’ve had entourages of up to 30 babies accompany me on walks.  I’ve never been in a space in, near, or around my village without seeing a person as every square inch is inhabited, cultivated or used as farmland for cows and shepherded by herd boys – there are people literally everywhere, at every time of the day, always.

I’ve walked several miles a day, to and from my health center and my school. I’ve witnessed and partaken in real progress and development. I’ve taught, trained, assisted, advised and have received the same. I’ve cracked a molar from stress. I’ve gotten bedbugs & fleas. I’ve had spider bites the size of quarters, rats eat my food and nest in my clothes, and snakes try to slither into my home. I’ve lived on a dirt road that melts into muddy chaos after the rains. I’ve seen, on more than one occasion, baboons blaze into a neighboring village, steal bananas, and be chased by children half their size.

I’ve nightly gazed at millions of brightly glinting stars. I’ve awoken to the sound of cows and roosters in the morning. I hoed and cultivated my own land. I’ve attended 6-hour church services with regularity; I’ve danced with the congregation until the dust cloud was too thick to breathe. I’ve attended 10+hour weddings and, in many of them, I’ve outshone the bride and groom as the honored guest. I’ve swallowed a fly, or two; I’ve seen flies die mid-air because it’s so, so hot. I’ve had my spirits lifted, despite my mood, at the sight of a tiny child running full speed at me, eyes alight with glee, shouting my name with arms open wide to launch a hug around my legs.

I’ve not simply survived, but done well.  I pioneered a new Peace Corps site – many of the villagers had never seen/interacted with a foreigner – establishing Peace Corps, volunteerism, American females, and friendship. I garnered faith and trust within my village and beyond. I was daily humbled, and I failed more often than I succeeded.  I learned to communicate effectively in Kinyarwanda – an African Bantu language, a crazy, inconceivably difficult language, useless outside Rwanda. And I did it to succeed – to succeed in serving for a cause greater than my own.

I did it because I believe in people and the power of love. I did it to share what I have for good; to live, work and serve in the name of friendship for the progress of humanity. And I did it because I can. And if I can, I must.

The perspectives, attitudes and motivations I’ve gained living in Rwanda are life shaping. Thank you Rwanda. Thank you Rwandans. Thank you family and friends. Thank you Peace Corps.

Training

It has been about 3 weeks since we installed our computers and, actually, it feels as though the computers have been here much longer.

Last week we began comprehensive IT teacher training lessons (a 3-day-a-week, 4-week training course) and already many teachers are excelling. Two teachers are advancing so quickly that they’re operating the computer lab – solo and capably.  These two teachers not only supervise other teachers as the teachers practice their newly learned skills, but also operate the printer and photocopier. I can’t help but believe this is what a successful project looks like. Ownership? They’re all over it. Giramata? Who? … Oh, yes, Giramata, she’s not here at the moment …

Our training lessons are led by an IT professional, Mugisha Steven, who works as the IT Director for Nyagatare District. He studied IT in university and is very knowledgeable about computers & Internet, but more importantly, he’s eager to assist his “country peoples develop themselves.”

I was nearly knocked over by surprise when Steven happily agreed to train teachers in the village, 20 minutes away, after work for 3 days a week, for 4 weeks, and at a facilitation cost only.  Most Rwandans want development, but (and perhaps contradictorily to African culture), many strive for personal/familial gain.  I had a ready prepared speech to bestow upon Steven about why volunteerism is good and what volunteerism can mean for this country, especially when he is in the 1% with a university degree, in IT no less!  But I had only uttered, “Steven, would you be willing …” when he interrupted me to say he’d already been asked to train (by my wonderful neighbor Andrew) and of course he was available: “It is my responsibility to help my country people.”

Thus, we arranged a 4-week IT teacher-training course emphasizing all the major hardware and software skills teachers will need – from basics, like opening a computer, to specifics, like saving and reopening a report on Word. Also, typing skills (on Mavis Beacon) as well as Internet subject-specific searching skills.

And the lessons began with a bang last week – 13 teachers showed up the first day! Granted, it’s not hard to show up to your own computer lab, but still, we have trouble getting that many teachers to attend staff meetings. The following day we had 17 teachers, and the last day 15. This week, we began with 11 and I’m hopeful the turn out will mirror last week’s.  Teachers are clearly interested and many are committed. Our training lessons are 2 – 2½ hours long, meaning we leave at 6:30pm when the sun sets, and many teachers live at least a 30-minute walk away.  Still, as we walk home in the dark, the teachers jabber excitedly about their newly acquired skills.

Upon their completion of this training course and by passing a basic diagnostic test, our teachers are eligible for an ICT (or IT) Certificate – a nationally recognized (and remarkable) achievement. This also means these teachers will be able to be IT trainers – some may even be able to find pay for their training services. This is a huge opportunity for our teachers.

The goal of this training is to empower teachers so that they, in turn, are able to empower students. As teachers build their computer and Internet literacies, so too will they build their capacities. Once teachers have a proficiency of computers, they will be able to transfer those skills to students; the skill transfer will be both technical, as the teachers guide students through basic computer literacies, as well as theoretical, as the teachers enrich their classroom lessons with more resources and improved information, enhancing students’ education.

And it’s all about the education of the Rwandan youth.

PS – Peace Corps asked me for an “indicator of success” on my final report form, which, honestly I thought a premature question, but I experienced one today: at the end of our training lesson, Steven said: “Ok, we finish. Save and we can go.” He said it so quickly I barely had time to look up to see all the teachers immediately and unanimously respond to the word “save” by looking down at their screens and moving their cursors. Success!

Amina

When I first met Amina, to describe her as painfully shy would have been an encouraging compliment. She never volunteered to speak – ever – and when I called upon her to answer a question (even if that question were outside of class, one on one), she remained silent.  After observing this, I tried not to single her out, avoiding what would be colossal embarrassment for her. However, class was class and I made a point to call on each and every student.

I became frustrated by her shyness because while she never, ever answered a question, she would maintain eye contact. I read her eye contact as indicative of her formulating an answer in her head, but she never spoke. Other students would laugh at the awkward silence befalling the classroom as Amina and I struggled in an unintended staring contest. I would think to myself, “Am I doing something wrong? Can she truly not understand me, or is she being difficult?”

But there was no question of her understanding. Amina was (is) very bright, one of the best in the class. And one of the hardest working. But still, speaking was out of the question.

When I began GLOW Club (Girls Leading Our World – a girls empowerment club) this year, Amina, despite my persistent wheedling, never came to our meetings. If club were at school after classes, she would linger at the classroom door, shielding her face, watching and listening to the lesson, and wait until I invited her in 3 times to take her swift, embarrassed leave. If club were at my house (a 20 minute walk from school), Amina would walk behind the other girls, go a bit farther than her own home, then turn around without a backward glance.

Because GLOW is a Peace Corps initiative, many other Peace Corps Volunteers have GLOW Clubs at their schools. Thus, GLOW Camps – an opportunity for our Club girls to get out of the village and into a 4 day “camp” setting of activities & girl’s empowerment lessons – are organized by those gallant PCVs.

As GLOW Camp 2012 rapidly approached (it was in July), I announced the day of the applications and encouraged all girls to come. Amina showed up. Without a second thought, I knew she would be the first among my chosen candidates.

So off to GLOW Camp she went. GLOW Camp is a time for these girls to be free – to be themselves and encouraged for it; to learn about their bodies and ask questions without fear of rebuke; to learn about the difference between gender and sex; to be empowered through education and support. (Magical, right? Yes. And Caitlyn Griffith-Heritage spearheaded it all. Because she’s magical.)

We also cheer at GLOW, a lot. It’s one of those quick-fixes to shake girls out of their too-shy-to-speak-loudly habit. I eagerly awaited watching Amina shake her crippling fear of speaking as encouraging camp leaders and enthusiastic campers enveloped her. Yet, for 5 days, I saw no change. Amina was present, but she wasn’t cheering with the rest of her camper group; she was standing, but not dancing; she was listening but not voluntarily speaking.

Admittedly I was disappointed. While I was delighted Amina was immersed in all of this girls-are-great goodness, I was bummed there wasn’t a more noticeable difference in her behavior.

However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. When we came back to school, Amina’s whole demeanor changed: she was top-dog now. Coming back from an experience like GLOW Camp, in Amina’s eyes, meant she was a leader. Something she’s always sited as wanting to be, despite her inhibitions.

This became clear to me in a blaze of glory when Amina started showing up and staying for GLOW Club. What’s more, Amina would be the first with a hand in the air to volunteer an answer. I was so dumbstruck the first time this happened, I waited to make sure Amina was aware that her hand was in the air.  But this was Amina’s turf: this was her school, her village, her neighbors and friends – her time to be the example, to be the leader. And it was AWESOME!

Since July, Amina has become my side-kick. She helps me with all GLOW Clubs, sometimes even to prepare lessons and announce Club meeting times to all secondary classes. She participates in Club and will quietly provide explanation to girls who are lost.

When we were announcing the start of GLOW for this last term, Amina was there, with the three Club leaders, advertising. The best moment, however, was last week when we elected three new GLOW leaders (one of which Amina couldn’t have been as she’s the equivalent of a senior at our school). Each of the new leaders were seasoned GLOW-ers, yet when they had to introduce themselves and state their positions publically, they quailed.

Now, if I’ve taught these girls anything in GLOW, it’s to have confidence, especially in speaking. Naturally then, all the GLOW girls roared when the new leaders buckled under shyness. While the girls were urging the new leaders to “have confeedenci”, I leaned over to ask Amina to show the new leaders how to speak with confidence.

Amina hesitated for a moment, comprehending the enormity of my request. Then I watched her gather her strength, take a deep breath in and step to the front of the classroom. She took the arm of the new president and began to whisper advice into her ear. Originally, I had wanted Amina to demonstrate speaking with confidence, but this – this guidance, this subtle leadership was so much better.

Had I asked Amina to do this last year she would have literally melted into her chair with embarrassment. Now, she is still shy – reserved I would argue – but courageous and confident.

As our service comes to a close, I think many Peace Corps Volunteers try to quantify their service – what did I accomplish? How many things did I bring/build? However, perhaps a better way to reflect on our service may be to qualify the significance of our service, not quantify it.

Below, I have pictures of Amina stepping up to help the new GLOW president. She’s girl in the light pink sweater. She’s not completely visible in the photos, which I actually find fitting. The last two pictures are of her in my house. She showed up one Sunday afternoon to draw. One of her drawings was a “Welcome to GLOW Clab” sign with hearts encircling the G, L, O and W. The other drawing was of two entwined hearts; one heart had my name in it while the other had Amina’s.

A Library AND a Computer Lab

Our school has transformed over these last few weeks.

After three weeks of unpacking 60+ boxes of books, numbering, stamping and shelving each, we were finally able to see the surfaces of our new tables and benches as well as the floor of our library. We swept and rinsed everything, and while I’ve never experienced such an eruption of sneezes (years and years of dust), our library now positively sparkles. It’s furnished, it’s catalogued, it’s functional and it is beautiful.

Four of our five new bookshelves are completely filled. The one empty bookshelf is reserved for future in-coming books (of which I believe there will be many) as well as the “returned books” station. Each of the full bookshelves holds books catalogued according to their subject and class.

We have installed a book Check-Out Policy and Return Policy – and, in order to stimulate and encourage a culture of reading, we are designing Library Study Time for classes Primary 3 through to Senior 3 (the approximate equivalent to 2^nd or 3^rd grades to about 8^th or 9^th grades).  We will be teaching students (and teachers) how to read a book for content, how to take notes from a book, how to research a topic within a book, and how to effectively study – from both a book and one’s notes.  And how to turn the page of a book, something which would never cross your mind until you realize that most here have never actually touched, let alone used, a book before.

We have a librarian who couldn’t be better. He helped to transform the room into a real library, taking great pride and ownership in it. He established many of the library rules and has already initiated Library Study Time for the Primary 6 class. With him, this library is in good hands.

And this success with the library means, for the school, the acquisition of computers – COMPUTERS!!  According to the “match” program I set up, if the school successfully completed, of its own volition, the creation of a proper and functioning library, it would receive a 10 laptop donation form an American school.

The transformation continued:  after receiving a grant for furniture construction of our computer lab (where we raised $3,000 in 3 days!), we electrified the computer classroom (as well as the library), built 5 tables and benches, and purchased a printer and photocopier.  The school then, again of its own volition and in preparation for the computers, re-cemented the computer classroom floor, reinforced both doors, AND repainted the walls and doors – with a boarder! WHAT?! It looks amazing.

Having retrieved the computers from Kigali this week, I arrived to school today – amidst a sea of sheer excitement – in a bus loaded with computers, locks, chargers, a printer, a photocopier, surge protectors, and extension chords.  I was greeted by cheers and hugs from teachers who promptly unloaded the bus’ into the freshly re-painted computer classroom. Also cheering were the Primary students, who were smooshed up against the windows, 6 kids deep, trying to catch a glimpse of the computers that they will soon use. Soon the Secondary students were pouring into the classroom to get a better look.

And these improvements aren’t just development for development’s sake, they’re the empowerment of education: education can empower our teachers and students, as human beings, by generating for them greater opportunity and choice in their lives. By building practical library and computer capacities, we can not only inspire a passion for teaching and learning, but generate access to life beyond the village, should students and teachers wish it.

That is progress.

Slowly but Surely

The entirety of this week has been dedicated to organizing our school’s new library. Thanks to the combined efforts of family and friends, in one fell swoop, our school will gain a proper, functioning library AS WELL AS a computer lab. Huge, that is so huge.

To uphold their end of the deal, the school and Parents Teachers Association have funded the construction of 5 bookshelves, 2 tables and 6 benches for the library.

Now, then, it is time we unpack our boxed books, catalogue them, and neatly store them. Oh my holy goodness. We have 4 total tables in the library now, but you wouldn’t know it – boxes upon boxes of books smother each table, shielding it from view. We have one old bookshelf that is in such disarray I have found not one but TWO birds’ nests. Really?

So far, the librarian and I have unpacked 31 boxes of books – yay!  Our cataloguing system is a simple one: numbering each subject’s book. For example, we have 130 Biology Form I books, and we’re simply numbering the books, 1 – 130. We have 87 Biology Form II books, and we number those 1 – 87. So on and so forth.

A culture of reading must be taught before it’s generated, thus the check out system will remain rudimentary. The librarian has a book-check-out notebook in which he will write the name of the book, its number and the student’s name. The student signs and takes the book. Assuming the librarian will be accounting for all books at the end of each term, he will be able to see which books are missing by the book number as well as which students have the corresponding numbers. I’m suggesting, as incentive to actually return the checked-out books, we instate a late-fee. We’ll see.

While we are making progress, 31 boxes unpacked and nearly 3 of our new bookshelves filled, there is still so much to be done. The unpacked boxes are for secondary school alone. We have about as many boxes for primary as well as an entire chaos-bookshelf of primary books.

However, the librarian and I are gaining camaraderie. In the beginning of the week, despite his requests and my pleas for assistance, only 1 teacher offered help. But by Friday, we had nearly all teachers in the library – many helping, others offering encouragement and/or congratulating for “nicely organizing. Ah yes, this is very nice.”

I’ve informed the teachers and administration that the sooner we finish the library, the sooner we will receive our donated computers. In reality, however, the computers are here. They’re here!  They are in Kigali waiting – waiting for the school to take ownership of their leaps toward development. And it’s working.

Thanks to all of you who have helped make these developments possible. More updates to come.

Let Them Eat Bread

While the progress on the Bushoga bakery has taken a back seat to the development of our school’s library and computer lab, the excitement about bread – how to make it & eat it – is at an all-time high.

 

I returned from a three-week stint in South Africa this week, having been med evacuated (on the Peace Corps dime!) for tooth and back problems. Patched up and strengthened, I arrived to salutations of “Giramata! UMUGATI!” (“Markey! BREAD!”) from my neighbors in Bushoga. I’m delighted to be back – a hiatus in South Africa was welcomed respite, but I do love my Rwandan village, my neighbors, my community. And I loved this welcome: bread!

 

Yesterday, two of my favorite students came to visit me, Fizzo and Sam. Both boys and both leaders of the boys club at school, these boys are inquisitive, open and kind. Last term, they requested cooking lessons for the boys club. At this suggestion, they were mocked by many of the boys because cooking is culturally at girl’s responsibility, but these two boys stood their ground. Fizzo even retorted, to paraphrase, in order to achieve gender equality, we must all have the same skills.  Rebuked, all eyes turned to me – their “modern” teacher and a woman – and the only remaining laughter was mine.

 

So, Fizzo and Sam came wanting to learn how to make and bake bread. “Teacha, we must cook the bread.”  Thus our lesson commenced.  Another defining and affecting moment of my service was watching two of my boys, young enough to be impressionable, yet old enough to be mature and thoughtful, take meticulous bread-preparation notes and handle the ingredients with acute care. Fizzo’s younger siblings were also present, preoccupied initially by my ipod, but then totally absorbed by their brother’s kneading dough.

 

The boys were barely finished when they were shooed out the door with verbal instructions of the baking method as another neighbor, an old woman, entered requesting salad for a late afternoon meal – surprise! After the old woman left (2 hours later …), I was ready for some downtime. I try to reserve Saturdays as “off” days, most of the time fruitlessly, but sometimes successfully, and I was ready to sit with a cup of tea and finish the never-ending Jane Eyre. False. Fizzo was back with his siblings and his one-laptop-per-child computer. I cringed, assuming he wanted to charge his computer and/or show me various Rwandan music videos.

 

But I was wrong. Instead, Fizzo announced they had something very special to show me, a gift he said. He then opened a video of the three of them eating their bread.  Perhaps this doesn’t sound like a magical moment, but it was. It really was. These kids (because they are kids) were alone all day and the oldest, Fizzo, took it upon himself to bake bread and share it with his siblings. And then film themselves eating the bread to show me. They took pictures too of the bread before they ate it (below).

 

I think the reason this moment was so magical for me was not simply because another person has gained a new skill, but because he was thoughtful enough to document it. It’s childlike wonder and delight, in the most positive sense. Emotion is rarely expressed here, and when it is, it’s mocked. Not because people are malicious, but because somber conformity rules. But this, this was an example of uninhibited glee and it was beautiful. They were thrilled at having made bread – and wanted to show me how great their bread was.

 

In the video, Fizzo’s younger brother, Theophile, says: “Umugati biryaryoshe! … Maki you ara cleva … akira Maki we!” Which means: “This bread is delicious! Markey, you are clever … please, take some Markey!”

 

Eat that bread.

Nostalgia

Cyakwera and I celebrated her birthday this week. Her birthday was Thursday and she’d forgotten completely. Odd, you may be thinking, but not in Rwanda. First, many people don’t actually know their real birthdays nor the year in which they were born, making age more of a guessing game than a fact. But now with government issued ID cards, dates of birth are a necessity. Still, most people just make up a date that sounds about right and no one questions it. I think this is what Cyakwera did because since I’ve been in Bushoga (nearly 2 years), she’s changed the date of her birthday about 4 times.

 

But I found her ID card and her birthday. When I informed her that her birthday was this week, she seemed genuinely surprised then laughed at my insistence to find and celebrate her birthday. “But Maki, we Rwandese peoples, we don’t care about birthdays. Poof! You are born. Good, that’s good. Then you live. No one can care, they say, ‘Oh! Ok, good, you are still alive, that is good.’ Finished.”

 

Be that as it may, I told Cyakwera that I’m sharing my culture with her and in our culture, we celebrate birthdays with love, cake and gifts. So off to her favorite restaurant we went, under the scrutinizing eyes of fellow villagers who thought me to be “throwing money” for no reason. Over lunch, we played one of Cyakwera’s favorite games: Highlights. This is a game a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer introduced to Cyakwera some time ago, asking for her highlights of GLOW Camp. Cyakwera now likes to play “Highlights” for all occasions, citing anything she considers good or happy in her life. Her highlights included: “My birzday … (laughter dancing in her eyes, tickling her mouth), walking for adventure with my Maki, when you came to Bushoga, when all the PCVs became my friends, Rukara for GLOW Camp, um um the rain…” So on and so forth.

 

Then she asked for my highlights, and after doing a usual laundry list like hers, I paused to think more seriously about a particular Cyakwera highlight – and what I came up with was one of my first and fondest memories of Cyakwera:

 

I had just arrived to Bushoga, tear-streaked and doubtful of survival. “THIS is the damn bush,” I kept thinking to myself, surveying the brittle, twisted, stunted shrubs spotting the yellow-brown land. I thought in Gisovu, my first site of one month, I was in the bush. I reveled in it too, secretly, thinking “I’m so badass, look at this: bush.” False. Gisovu may have been remote, but its plentiful chai mountains, its tucked away villages abundant with running water, and its daily buses could not sustain the tag “bush.”

 

This, this, was the damn bush. The name doesn’t necessarily denote remoteness – it denotes nothingness. No water, no plants, no life, just stunted aggressive bushes sparsely defying this seemingly inhospitable land.

 

And this was my new home.

 

I arrived on a Thursday. Friday and Saturday were a wash of hopeless pull-it-togethers, but Sunday I remember.

 

As I opened my door to venture out for a walk, I was greeted by one of my teacher colleagues, Keane.

 

“We go.” He said and started walking.

Mumbling “How did he know?” and “Yes, we go.”  I went.

 

He took me to Cyakwera’s house. Cyakwera was there the night I arrived. She was the most lively person I had seen in Rwanda, laughing heartily and joking. Now, with the same joyous laughter, she greeted me and insisted I come in.

 

Hers was unlike any house I’d ever been in: floors made of dirt and hardened with cow dung, walls constructed of mud bricks fortified by days of drying in the white-hot sun, and exposed wooden beams that supported the corrugated iron-sheet roof. Her room, a 6 x 6 space maximum, was shockingly colorful. Magazine clippings, posters, calendars, drawings, name tags, stickers, book pages all adorned her walls. Except for the odd array of clippings, her room mirrored that of a teenage American girl.

 

She invited me to sit in her room, offering me candy-sweet milk tea and a fried dough ball called amandazi. I sat with my knees squeezed against my chest and my back pressed hard against the side of her bed. With considerable less effort, she sat right next to me and poured another huge cup of tea, laughing in Kinyarwanda at something Keane had said.

 

Cyakwera handed Keane his cup of tea then quickly topped up my mug despite my refusal efforts. With a sweeping gesture, she declared: “Giramata, you drink! You drink! There is no problem, we have everything. We have milk, we have food, we have our house, we have the friends, we have what and what. We have everything!”

 

She was laughing as she said this, but in her declaration I found a more serious note. We have everything. “She has nothing,” I thought myself, “she has dirt floors, no electricity, no water, no amenities of any kind. … Everything?”

 

This was my first glimpse at Cyakwera’s indispensible joy. Give her nothing and she’ll make you a bouquet of flowers.

 

I relayed an abbreviated version of this story to Cyakwera as my highlight. Naturally she laughed and complimented herself on knowing how to have morale. “Do you think so!?” She retorted. “I know things, Maki.” She was giggling as she took another sip of her Fanta, then looked at me, and ever so slightly more seriously, she said:

“I love you Maki.”

“I love you too, Cyakwera, Happy Birthday.”

FULLY FUNDED!

 

THANK YOU!!!

 

As of yesterday, my Peace Corps project for a Computer and Internet Resource Center received full funding! YES HOOORAY!

 

Because my project has received full funding, it has been taken off-line (as some of you may have discovered). Next week, these funds will be electronically wired to my Rwandan bank account enabling me to get things started!

 

Also next week, I will be receiving the list of donors for my project – a list that was previously confidential – and will be able to make personal “thanks you”.

 

For now, THANK YOU ALL so much for your enthusiasm and charitable gifts. Your generosity is truly an investment in hundreds of Rwandan students, teachers and community members.

 

If you would like to follow this project, please check here periodically as I’ll be updating as regularly as I can.

 

It is because of partnerships like this that significant development is possible.

An Opportunity to Help

Last December, upon sharing my Peace Corps Rwanda experiences, I was humbled by how many people asked: “How can I help?” Many of you wanted more than to be informed, you wanted a tangible way to assist my Rwandan community.

NOW, you can assist in that tangible way.

Over the past 4+ months I’ve been working on a large project with my Rwandan school: the construction of a fully furnished, functioning School Library as well as the creation of a Computer and Internet Resource Center.

Here’s the background:

Our school lacks a real library. We have plenty of books, a plethora I dare say thanks to the government’s initiative to supply public schools with text books, BUT no where to store said books. Instead, our “library” functions more as a storage room for unopened, unused boxes of books. This is unacceptable – educational resources are available but inaccessible simply because the school lacks bookshelves.

The school was unwilling to spend a portion of its government subsidies on bookshelf construction, choosing instead classroom repairs. This was my on-going battle with the school, pleading fruitlessly for a useable library. The problem was always money, “No money,” or, more accurately in this case, not enough money.  I was unwilling to forfeit and say, “Sure! I’ll find us more money!” knowing well that lack of community investment can spawn waste.  I needed an opportunity that would make the creation of a functional library a priority.

That opportunity was computers.

For a year, I’ve been training our teachers in basic computer literacy skills. These computer lessons began at school as an alternative to teachers’ sitting and staring at walls for hours until it was time for their lessons. Everyday, I would bring my laptop and hold 4 – 6 hours of tutorials. Teachers would sign up for a one-hour lesson during one of his/her free periods and be given time to practice typing and explore various features of the computer.

Our computer lessons have expanded, now taking place in a real Internet café 10 kilometers away from our school. Teachers are now being trained by a Rwandan IT professional for free AND for an IT certificate. Huge.

Computers as an educational resource are equally as important as textbooks. I view computers and computer literacy as vital components to modern education. And, because of my computer training efforts, the school has responded concordantly, recognizing the intrinsic value of computers. Computers mean modernity for the school while internet indicates unfathomably vast educational resources. Thus, an opportunity for some kind of school investment was gaining momentum.

I began to search for ways to gain computers, hoping to use the prospect of a computer lab as an enticing enough offer to secure a committed contribution from our school: get computers, give a library. (Ah, it all comes together!)

In response to one of my blog posts about computer training, I was put in touch with the IT gurus at Culver Military Academy, Larry Emmons & Matt White. Within hours of providing them context, Larry declared Culver’s 10-laptop donation to our school!

I presented this donation to our school as a conditional: if our school can fully furnish the library, we would receive a 10-laptop donation from an American school.

DONE. Thrilled by the prospect of gaining computers, the school and the Parents Teachers Association immediately allocated funds to construct 4 tables, 8 benches, and 5 bookshelves for our library. ALL furnishings are finished. This is a huge success, especially for a poor school.

So now, onto the computer lab – here called the Computer and Internet Resource Center. In order to use these extraordinary gifts (the laptops), we need first to build a space for them. While we have a classroom to convert into a computer lab, we lack the basics: electricity, tables, benches, and a printer.

Here’s where you come in:

I have submitted a Peace Corps Partnership Program (PCPP) grant, a grant that is fully funded by the family and friends of the Volunteer.

My grant seeks to fund the electrical wiring of the classroom, the construction of 4 tables and 6 benches, and the purchase of a printer/photocopier to create a real Computer and Internet Resource Center for our school.

This grant is designed to enable family and friends at home collaborate with their Peace Corps Volunteer. My grant will not be “approved” until I reach my sought amount: $3,100. The PCPP grant is an opportunity for you all to help me help my community, in a very real and personal way.

You can find a basic overview of my project online: https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projdetail&projdesc=696-019, under the name Culver, M..

While this website walks you through the donation process, if you’re curious about budget, time frame, specifics, etc., I am happy to e-mail you a copy of my actual grant application which has more details than you could ever want.  Just let me know! (markey.culver@gmail.com).

Thank you all for considering my project and I would love your help in spreading the word – let’s get this Computer and Internet Resource Center underway!

(PS – pictures to come soon! The before and after shots of the library as well as the before, during and after shots of the Computer and Internet Resource Center.)

FIIIIINALLY!

Greetings. Welcome back to blog-o-Rwandan adventures. 4 months. Quite the long lull.

 

For my lack of updates and communication, I apologize. Methuselah (my computer) crashed in March and a mere 4 months later … (4 months …) was restored to me. Thus, most of the posts that follow are old – I have still been writing, but not able to update.

 

BUT Methuselah back in business = blog reinvigoration. YES!
Enjoy!