I have been so impressed with my students' documentary project ideas. To celebrate the completion of their documentary proposals and treatments, last night I called for an impromptu gathering at Hotel Faucon. I treated the group to Mutzig, tea, and was introduced to the very latest in Rwanda drinking concoctions (or maybe it's been around for years and I was just hanging out with the wrong people).

Every class has a chef de la classe, the class leader responsible for disseminating information, organizing groups and relaying class opinions to the faculty and administration. My 4th year students' chef is Fidele. The waiter came. I placed my order, JB placed his order, JC placed his order. Claudine placed her order. Mutzig, Mutzig, tea, tea. But Fidele requested a Guiness and coca. Okay, I thought. He wants to relax AND he need some caffeine in his system. But when the drinks came, he pour a little beer in his glass then topped it off with coke. GuinessCoca. It's really not bad.

There were speeches, declarations of love and promises of a lifetime of collaborations and partnerships. I couldn't be happier than when I'm with my students.

Posted by Amy at 09:32 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I was sad to go. All weekend, at my house in Kigali, I watched a housemate transform mountains of whole cauliflower heads, eggplant, onions and sweet potatoes to peeled and chopped and diced ones. Then they were baked or sauteed or boiled. The warm sweet scent of onions permeated the house. I even paused from my work editing students' film proposals to take a teary break to chop red onions. Monday night, fifty people were scheduled to arrive for one of at least three Passover Seders in Kigali. Unfortunately, I could not be one of them. I teach on Tuesday at 8 AM, so I departed a house filled with mouthwatering smells, to board the bus back to Butare. Read about Josh Ruxin's Seder here.

Posted by Amy at 09:11 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I don't have another class until next Tuesday, so to settle into my "weekend" I went to the local beer distributor to kick off happy hour. In Butare, you can't go to a supermarket to pick up ONE cold beer. You must go to the distributor who will sell nothing less than a crate. A crate of Grand Primus costs 6100 Rwandan Francs -- about $10 (whereas the petit Primus cost 7100 RwF). To guarantee you bring the bottles and crate back, you must pay an additional 10000 Rwf deposit. I really wanted that beer so I paid the deposit. I paid for the beer. Then, since I don't have a car, I paid for transport. At first I optimistically (i.e. cheaply) considered stacking the gigantic red crate on my lap on top of my bag filled with my students' papers, teaching materials and my laptop. A small crowd gathered around to watch this inexorably doomed balancing act. Seeing this damsel in distress a small fleet of moto drivers pulled up to offer assistance. We chatted about distance. Prices were suggested. Prices were lowered. Finally, I hired a second moto to balance my crate of beer on HIS lap. I hopped on my moto and led the happy hour motorcade back to my house.

Posted by Amy at 11:57 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

The electric bill at the house where I've been staying wasn't paid so I've spent a better part of the evening reading by candlelight. After a long week, it was lovely -- and the reading material provided some much-needed comic relief. The article I was reading in Rwanda Dispatch describes Pres. Kagame's visit to a rural village to investigate corruption cases. The article begins, "Thousands brave the scotching [sic] sun that glows and burns with a rage so intense and piercing, to grace this function." I would need a sun scotch if I were investigating these matters. I've started a new collection of malapropisms and inappropriate metaphors. How's this one? It's a story about an orphan whose land grabbed after her parents died. The articles says, "she went to complain to authorities who have been tossing her up and down." Upside down. Boy you turn me, inside out. And round and round. Back and forth, up and down. I get the author's point perfectly

Posted by Amy at 11:10 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I teach at the National University of Rwanda's School of Journalism and Communication on Tuesdays and Thursday -- from 8 AM until 5 PM, with a two hour break for lunch. Every morning I hail a moto which takes me from my house in the Butare suburb of Taba to campus. It's about a ten minute ride that's a straight shot down Butare's Main Street, which look like it's straight out of a western flick, starring an entirely Rwandan cast. The buildings are low storefronts and there's a dusty, sun-exposed feel. Driving through, I inhale the smell of diesel, not horse manure.

But as I approach campus shady eucalyptus trees protect me from the sun's rays. And with each cool inhale, it's like I'm in my own personal cough drop bubble. Ah, the sweet minty smell of eucalyptus.

The university guard gives me a nod at the main entrance, then lifts the metal bar to let us moto up the final stretch to the main building. This morning as we proceeded up the campus road, past students arm in arm with their backpacks and books I saw something I had never seen before. A group of stubborn monkeys who had swung down from their branches to occupy the road in a seemingly rascally revolt were stopping traffic. They bounded about -- off the pavement into a tree, then back down, leaping and checking to see if the audience still was watching. I took out my camera and tried to take pictures.

Posted by Amy at 10:47 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

After being away from Rwanda for two years there were two things I noticed immediately. Many more people are speaking English and there are actually restaurants serving pork. (Did you hear that MF & CW?) On one of my first days in Kigali, I joined my sidekick at Flamingo restaurant -- the Chinese restaurant in my Kimihurura neighborhood that is not in fact owned by a Chinese family. They offered many pork dishes: sweet and sour pork, Sichuan pork, gungpoa pork. And then I saw it. I had to have it. The ever delicious pork parties dish. Pork parties are so hard to find. But in Rwanda a pork party can be yours.

Posted by Amy at 10:03 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I have mucho catch-up blogging to do. I arrived in Rwanda over two weeks ago. As a result there's a back log of stories that I need to tell in digital form and that, dear reader will come soon. But for now, I wanted to announce the launch of the student's website, My Camera, My Story. The site will showcase students' video stories as well as documenting the process and challenges they confront along the way.

Posted by Amy at 01:49 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)