A First Goodbye

I think it's fair to say that a country can be judged on the quality of their goodbyes. Like their rolling hills, bumpy roads, and smiling faces, the people of Rwanda give amazing goodbyes.

In the village, students get to choose their extra curricular activities, and through our "Goodbye Party Planning Committee," I had the pleasure of meeting the Culture Club. With their sixteen members and our four, we were able to experience the behind the scenes of this dramatic celebration. After we shared what a typical American party is like (food... and maybe dancing), they explained to us that we needed more. We would have to alternate giving speeches - a Rwandan speech, an American speech, and so on. And then we would have to exchange traditional songs and dances. Little did they know that America has no traditional dance (but Cotton Eyed Joe did suffice).

Today's goodbye seemed to come a little too soon. We all exchanged our speeches and gifts. When the four of us came out with the Culture Club, dancing in sync to a traditional Rwandan vocal and percussion song, the look on the faces of all the Rwandans around us is one I will never forget. They smiled with pride and shock at how hard we attempted to understand their cultural tradition. Even when I messed up, missed a beat, or stepped the wrong way, they smiled and nodded us on. When our Rwandan friends similarly joined us in a round of Cotton Eyed Joe, the Americans could not have looked happier. Following our dances, we gave gifts to the entire village, including a Jumbo shaped menorah for the entire village to share. We then had a fabulous dance party together before saying our goodnights.

All of us then followed our ASYV families to their homes. On the way there, I had a final conversation with one of my new friends. In his very poor english, he managed to ask me a good number of closing questions. Out of the more than 50 questions he has asked me this week, one from tonight was the first question that made me hesitate before answering. "I have question," he said, "What you share in America about here?" "What am I going to tell my friends and family about the village and about Rwanda?" I asked, just for clarification. "Yes, yes. I'm very curious." How do I begin to tell him that these conversations with him over rice and beans actually have changed my life? How do I begin to tell him that his country, his friends, his life has caused me to question my society, my future, my faith, and myself. Would he understand? Would the face by which I convey this message be meaningful enough to capture everything I'd like to tell him? Instead of attempting a long explanation, I stopped walking and told him that Rwanda has changed my life. I told him that the people here are different from everyone else in the world, and that if I could I would stay as long as possible to try and understand them. My speechless disposition along with my decision to stop and look him in the eyes seemed to have made the correct impression. "Ah...'" he replied, "So Rwanda has strong effect on you. Now I know you visit again." And with that reply, the deal was made. Our goodbye may have been slightly emotional, and it was only followed by a teary goodbye with my family. But with these goodbyes were email exchanges, last minute explanations of Facebook, and questions of whether they could study chemistry and computer science at Tufts. With each goodbye I made, not knowing my own future, I knew that it was only a first goodbye. A country with this history, with these people, and with so much personality can not keep me away for long. I will have to return again for another goodbye.

-Lauren