16 Days of Activism: GBV in Rwanda

This isn’t a typical blog post. It’s a little long and very serious, and I’m not going to offer you any quick action points at the end. Trying to offer short and simple answers to GBV would be futile and insulting, reducing a complex, multifaceted issue and oversimplify the experiences and mindsets of everyone involved. That’s not to say there isn’t a solution or that you can’t find ways to be a part of that solution, but, honestly, I don’t feel qualified to tell you to go out and take an action. I do, however, believe that awareness is vital, and I believe that ignoring problem simply because we don’t expect to find easy answers to it is a serious exertion of privilege.

Leading up to International Women’s Day, Peace Corps Rwanda is engaging in sixteen days of activism against gender based violence (GBV), from 14 February to 1 March. I think it’s important to be informed about gender-based violence—no matter where you live—and so I want to take a few minutes to talk about it.

Rwanda regularly makes headlines for its gender equality. It leads the world in women’s involvement in government: two thirds (64%) of parliamentarians are women,* compared with only 20% in the US Congress. There are as many girls as boys in primary and secondary schools, and the majority of women participate in the workforce6. Undergirding these metrics is a commitment to gender equality at the highest levels of government and a strong interest in it at the grassroots level.         

However despite this commitment, gender-based violence (GBV) is prevalent throughout the country. Rwandan law defines GBV as “any act, perpetrated because of the victim’s gender, which results in bodily, psychological, sexual or economic harm, or in the deprivation of freedom or in negative consequences within or outside households.”3

In most cases, the victims** are women and the perpetrators are men.

Intimate Partner Violence

Intimate partner violence (IPV) is the most common form of GBV. According to the UN World’s Women Report, over half (55%) of Rwandan women will experience physical or sexual violence within their lives. Of the women who report IPV within their lifetimes, the majority of them also say they experienced IPV within the last twelve months.

For context, consider the statistics cited for Europe in the same report. Here, we see the number of women who experienced IPV within their lifetimes is much higher than the number of women who experienced IPV in the last 12 months. This shows that in Europe, most women faced with IPV are able to escape the situation. In Rwanda, by contrast, most women who experience IPV continue to face it repeatedly throughout their lives.7

This data is compiled from several tables in the UN World’s Women Report; this includes a representative sample of high, medium, and low percentages. For full tables including data for many more countries, check out the full report, especially figures 6.7 and 6.8.

One reason for this is that for Rwandan women, it is especially difficult to leave abusive relationships. Most women in Rwanda are unwilling to seek support for intimate partner violence because they expect severe legal, social, and economic repercussions if they do.

Legally, women worry about losing custody of their children if they pursue a divorce.

Socially, they fear the stigma that surrounds IPV. One study2 notes that “[w]omen feared revealing the abuse to anyone . . . as this would bring shame to the family and worsen their overall life situation.” The same study2 points out that women consider seeking support from formal institutions to be “equivalent to revealing the abuse to the entire community, thus bringing shame to the family.”

Economically, many women are dependent on their abusers. As one married woman said, “Where [can I] go when I bring my husband to prison? I still have to bring him food while he is not bringing anything to the house. I better keep silent about the problems in the house.”

Patriarchal Culture and Colonialism

Beneath this violence is a culture in which men have historically been dominant. The Rwandan government recognises that gender inequality is a deeply rooted aspect of Rwandan society. The National Gender Policy4 asserts that

Rwandan society is characterised by a patriarchal social structure that underlies the unequal social power relations between men and women, boys and girls. This has translated into men’s dominance and women’s subordination. Gender inequalities have not seen [sic] as unjust, but as respected social normality [sic].

In the view of the Rwandan government, this male domination is largely a result of colonization4. In pre-colonial Rwanda, women had a greater role in household decision-making and greater control of domestic resources. They had primary responsibility for farming—though men also helped—and in a purely agrarian economy, women’s control of agricultural and domestic resources translated into significant social and economic power.

But colonial rule shifted the balance of power away from women.

Belgian colonisers instituted a sudden change to a “monetary economy based on paid employment and a formal education system.” Whereas money hadn’t been used in precolonial Rwanda, it suddenly became a “key resource”—one that only men could access and control. Further weakening their position, women were unable to access education5 or open bank accounts without permission of their husbands9.

In the government’s view, the psychological effects of colonisation exacerbated gender-based violence directly: “[T]he violence and brutality undergone by men in their contact with European rule was reflected in their attitude towards women and children.”4 While the policy does not delve deeply into the evidence for its view, it’s plausible that colonialism continues to contribute to gender inequality today.

Cultural Attitudes

Regardless of its causes, the cultural expectation that men should dominate women is widespread in contemporary Rwanda. The National Policy Against Gender Based Violence recognises as much, holding that “Gender-based violence . . . serves—by intention or effect—to perpetuate male power and control.”3

A study of attitudes toward gender roles in 2010 found that most women and men agreed that “A man should have the final word about decision [sic] in his home” (52.8% and 65% respectively).1 Most women (53.3%) and nearly half of men (45.5%) also agree that a wife “has to be submissive to her husband and accept everything.”1 Close to a third of both men and women (32% and 28% respectively) agreed that “A wife who earns more than her husband provokes violent [sic].”1

The UN estimates7 that roughly half of men (55%) and a quarter of women (25%) agree that a man is justified in beating his wife if the wife does one of the following: burns the food, argues with her husband, goes out without telling him, neglects the children, or refuses to have sex with him.

The results from another study1 are grimmer still: most men (60%) and even more women (70%) agree that “[violence against women] is needed to control a wife and women sometimes deserve to be beaten.”

statements graph

Steps Forward: Policies and Metrics

Although gender-based violence is a significant problem in Rwanda, it’s one that the government has been actively working to address throughout the last decade.

In 2008, Rwanda passed a law making all forms of GBV illegal. By the time of one study in 20101, 85% of participants understood the law, and many believed it would have significant social impact.

In July 2010, the government released a comprehensive National Gender Policy, which sets out a vision of a gender-equitable future, an assessment of opportunities and challenges, and a set of targets and responsibilities distributed across sectors of the government.

In 2011, that policy was followed by a National Policy Against Gender Based Violence, which expresses the government’s commitment to eradicating GBV and lays out strategies for doing so. The Policy Principles section of that document is of particular interest at a moment when gender-based violence within the American government is a matter of international attention.

The Government of Rwanda does not condone any acts of gender-based violence;

The Government of Rwanda recognizes gender based violence as a violation of human rights;

The Government of Rwanda strongly believes in, and promotes gender equality, equity and empowerment of women as a crucial human resource for social and economic development;

The Government of Rwanda is committed to using its fullest powers to fight, prevent and provide response to all forms of gender-based violence in society; and

GBV interventions and responses must be conducted in all social, economic and political sectors.

In addition to these policies, in a part of the world where comprehensive statistics in general are hard to come by, the Rwandan government has collected an impressive amount of information about gender disparities.8 Gender equality targets are integrated into the metrics and evaluation for social services like schools and health centres, providing gender-specific data regarding malnutrition, various diseases, school enrolment and dropout rates, and teenage pregnancy from each school and health centre in the country.

The government also tracks indicators that are not tied to a specific service, such as the hours that men and women spend on unpaid labour, the rate at which male and female heads of houses have electricity, and the overall access men and women have to smartphones and other technology.

This abundance of data provides a solid footing for combating GBV.

More Steps Forward: Programming

In addition to policies, Rwanda has a wide range of programmes to address gender-based violence.

Gender is a cross-cutting issue in the school curriculum, meaning that teachers are expected to integrate it into any lesson where it’s relevant. For example, in a lesson on community resources, a teacher would be expected to address gender-specific resources like girls’ rooms (a government-mandated facility in each school where girls can deal with menstrual hygiene. Though implementation is slow, the Ministry of Education puts constant pressure on schools to integrate gender equality into school policies and classroom instructions.

The Rwanda National Police have also been leaders in addressing GBV at the community level.

Throughout the country, women facing violence can seek support from One-Stop Centres, which provide free integrated medical care, emergency accommodation, psycho-social support, and legal aid to victims of GBV or domestic violence. The One-Stop Centres are organised by the police and have been expanded over the past decade with the goal of putting a One-Stop Centre in each community health centre.3

The police also run community-organising programmes to prevent and address GBV. The campaign, supported by the UN, consists of “a club, a mentorship program and a 3 months [sic] training module,”10 allowing police to disseminate information, train community members, and intervene in relationships where GBV is present.

Last year, the Rwanda Peace Academy organised a training on sexual and gender-based violence for military, police, and civilian officers from five countries in the region. The training focused on understanding the humanitarian impacts of GBV during and after conflicts, and on strategies to prevent and address GBV in conflict zones.11

In addition to the government-run programmes, various NGOs focus on grassroots prevention of GBV. One organisation deserves particular attention: The Rwanda Men’s Resource Centre (RWAMREC) focuses on engaging men to support gender equality and prevent GBV.

RWAMREC’s study on attitudes toward gender and gender-based violence is exceptional in providing a clear window into the cultural attitudes, beliefs, and histories that affect gender in this country’s unique context. RWAMREC also runs a programme called “Boys for Change” that engages secondary school boys in gender equality, healthy lifestyles, and sustainable development.

In addition, they offer a programme called Positive Masculinities focused on “sensitising men towards gender equality by challenging traditionally held notions.”9 As a part of this, for example, women and men are asked to switch household chores for three days.

RWAMREC constantly challenges men and boys to question their preconceptions and strive toward a more positive masculinity that aligns with Rwanda’s cultural ideals of unity, equality, and dignity for all people.

*This does not extend to all areas of life; women are a minority in other high positions. (Check out this table.)

**In Rwanda, the term “survivor” is reserved for those who survived the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi. In the context of GBV, the term “victim” is preferred.

Also: A huge thanks to Claire Pennington for co-authoring this blog post with me. You should check out Claire’s blog.  


1Henny Slegh and Augustin Kimonyo, “Masculinity and Gender Based Violence in Rwanda: Experiences and Perceptions of Women and Men” (Rwanda Men’s Resource Center, 2010).

2Aline Umubyeyi, Margareta Persson, Ingrid Mogren and Gunilla Krantz, “Gender Inequality Prevents Abused Women from Seeking Care Despite Protection Given in Gender-Based Violence Legislation: A Qualitative Study from Rwanda,” (2016).

3National Policy Against Gender-Based Violence, Ministry of Gender and Family Promotion (Rwanda), July 2010, http://www.migeprof.gov.rw/fileadmin/_migrated/content_uploads/GBV_Policy-2_1_.pdf.

4National Gender Policy, Ministry of Gender and Family Promotion (Rwanda), July 2011, http://www.migeprof.gov.rw/fileadmin/_migrated/content_uploads/National_Gender_Policy-2.pdf.

5John Mutamba and Jeanne Izabiliza, “Role of Women in Reconciliation and Peace Building in Rwanda: Ten Years After Genocide” The National Unity and Reconciliation Commission (Rwanda). May 2005, http://unpan1.un.org/intradoc/groups/public/documents/un/unpan031033.pdf.

6The Statistical Yearbook, 2014 Edition, National Institute of Statistics of Rwanda, November 2014, http://statistics.gov.rw/publication/statistical-yearbook-2014.

7World’s Women 2015: Trends and Statistics, United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Statistics Division, 2015, https://unstats.un.org/unsd/gender/worldswomen.html.

8National Gender Statistics Report, 2014 Edition, National Institute of Statistics of Rwanda, September 2014, http://statistics.gov.rw/file/3647/download?token=bX071OKj.

9Nishtha Chugh, “A drive to beat Rwanda’s gender-based violence,” The Guardian, November 22, 2013, https://www.theguardian.com/global-development-professionals-network/2013/nov/22/rwanda-gender-based-violence.

10“A partnership to end Gender-Based Violence,” United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) Rwanda, June 19, 2014, http://www.rw.undp.org/content/rwanda/en/home/presscenter/articles/2014/06/19/a-partnership-to-end-gender-based-violence.html.

11“Rwanda Peace Academy trains officers on sexual and gender-based violence,” Igihe, January 18, 2017, http://en.igihe.com/news/rwanda-peace-academy-trains-officers-on-sexual.html.


Be Calm (or, How to Cope in the Peace Corps: 24 tips from an introvert)


Be calm.

Have I mentioned Peace Corps is the hardest thing I’ve ever done?

It’s isolating and exhausting—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Half the time it’s incredibly rewarding, and half the time it feels thoroughly futile, and on top of everything, you can’t buy a pint of ice cream when you have a bad night. After over a year of this, I think I’ve become something of a pro at coping.

From one anxious, introverted PCV to you, here 25 things I’ve found essential:

  1. Keep some clothes that make you feel most like yourself, even if you can only wear them inside your house. In any country with rules about your wardrobe, Peace Corps comes with some identity disconnect, days where you feel like you’ve dressed up as someone else for so long that you can’t remember who you are underneath. Give yourself a break sometimes. I keep a handful of tanktops, short dresses, and leggings on hand. (And honestly half the time I walk around my house in my underwear.)
  2. Exercise regularly, even if it’s only a few minutes a day, even if you hate it while you’re doing it. Exercise really does release chemicals that help regulate your emotions and make you feel better, even if you don’t feel them at the time. Plus, with the total change of diet and lifestyle, Peace Corps makes a lot of people’s bodies change in ways they may or may not like. Exercise gives you control over your own body.
  3. Figure out the easiest ways to eat a balanced meal at site. It’s no walk in the park trying to get a balanced meal; I’ve never paid so much attention to my protein intake or craved vegetables so often before in my life. Figure out not only what’s easy to get at site but what takes the least effort to make. Get into routines with your food. Keep yourself nourished.
  4. Stay in touch with people who refresh you. Pay attention to which people don’t drain you when you talk to them, which people make you feel heard and supported and encouraged. Talk to those people.
  5. Take lots of photos, even if you don’t share them, and look back on them from time to time. It’s fun to look back on where you’ve been. It’s encouraging to see how far you’ve come, to remember the good days and to see that the bad days ended. Plus you’ll want to look back on these in the future, when you’re back in the world of delivery pizza and fast internet.
  6. Keep lots of water bottles full of potable water so staying hydrated isn’t a chore. Dehydration is sneaky, and it ruins all sorts of things about your life, from your energy to your mood to your health, and there’s nothing worse than having to haul water and wait for your filter before you can quench your thirst.
  7. Write down the small successes. Record the moments that make you feel good, the small events that make you glad you came here, the little things that feel like you’re not failing. Keep that list where you can read it sometimes to remind yourself that you’ve done things right and made progress.
  8. Play music in your house, and have impromptu dance parties by yourself. Trust me. It makes you feel better. You may look ridiculous (I do; my cat has told me so many times), but a few minutes of spinning and bouncing and swaying will get your heart rate up and put a smile on your face, even if it’s just because you’re laughing at your silly self.
  9. Keep your kindle charged and loaded. You never know when you’ll need a book, whether it’s during an unexpected wait because scheduling doesn’t exist in your host culture (hey there, Rwanda), on an lazy weekend afternoon, or while your rice is boiling.
  10. Figure out the things that make you feel most like yourself and make space for them in your life. For me that includes keeping a few physical books on hand, making time for lingering over coffee in the mornings, and keeping in touch with writers groups whenever my internet works.
  11. Figure out what you can control. Maybe it’s your diet, maybe it’s your hobbies, maybe it’s your bedtime. For me it’s my workouts and writing events like NaNoWriMo. Even if it seems insignificant, it’s something to hold onto when it feels like everything in your life is spinning into chaos.
  12. Stock up on toilet paper, pepto bismol, and ibuprofen. Trust me. You do not want to be stuck at home with endless diarrhoea using notebook paper because you can’t walk into town for toilet paper.
  13. Keep snacks on hand for emergency coddling on bad days. Hoard your care package goodies—I keep an “emergency American food” trunk in my kitchen—and pick up treats for yourself when you visit a town. Save them for the days when you need a little extra love.
  14. Keep a makeshift clothesline easy to set up indoors for rainy laundry days. It’s bad enough having to run out in the rain to collect your month’s worth of laundry off the line without having to leave it all in a sopping pile while you try to figure out where/how to hang an indoor clothesline.
  15. Always round off a list of complaints with one good thing. Don’t pretend everything is fine when it’s not; air your grievances and acknowledge your frustrations, but don’t end there. Force yourself to find something good that happened during the day, the one thing that went right or at least wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Even if all you come up with is, “I don’t have malaria,” that’s something. (I’ve had those days. They’re real.)
  16. Make some physical spaces yours. The corner seat in the local tea shop, that one walk with the pretty views, the living room of that neighbour you really like—wherever it is that you feel comfortable, make yourself a little home.
  17. Sleep in sometimes. Or I guess if you’re not a night owl like me you could go to bed early sometimes. Or do both. Sometimes I go to bed by sunset because lying down sounds nice. Give your body and mind a break. Rest.
  18. Journal. You don’t have to write sweeping paragraphs, but write something. Dump your anxious thoughts when your mind is spinning at night. Bullet point the ideas that feel strongest or the details that seem most important. Write lists of events or aspirations or moments that made you laugh. Skim your old entries sometimes; see where you were and how far you’ve come.
  19. Make your living space as comfortable as possible. Shell out for the nicer couch cushions, buy some soft blankets, keep the milk and sugar for your coffee within reach of your armchair. Protip: it is worth it to buy a slightly more expensive lightbulb that will actually brighten your whole house. So many things in your life will be uncomfortable in Peace Corps. You have to make your own happy places.
  20. Take self-care days. Do whatever it is that replenishes your spirit. For me, it’s staying in my PJs and refusing to answer my door. Maybe for you it’s travelling to the nearest town to have a meal that you didn’t have to prepare for yourself while squatting on the ground. Whatever it is, give yourself a break. Don’t check your email, don’t work on projects, don’t worry. You can tackle your M&E and your action plans and your problems tomorrow.
  21. Always know what you’re looking forward to. Whether it’s an international vacation or just some down time on the weekend, you should always have something on the horizon, some rest stop where you can get your breath, have a drink, and do some self-assessment before you dive back into the turmoil of life.
  22. Keep flashlights and headlamps all over your house. There’s nothing worse than losing power in the evening and not being able to find your flashlight. I’m speaking from experience here. I’ve given up at five in the evening multiple times because I couldn’t figure out where I’d stashed my flashlight.
  23. Define ‘successful’ your way. Let yourself be unhappy sometimes. You’re not a failure if you don’t love your site, your counterparts, or your job every single day. Decide what you want success to look like and work toward that. Never mind what everyone else is doing or what the VRF says. If you are at your site, getting out of bed, walking out your door, making an effort to do your job, you’re a good PCV.
  24. Tell yourself, just one more. And then one more. Take one step at a time, one word at a time, one breath at a time. You don’t have to do your whole day, project, or service at once. Right now you just have to take one more breath. And then another.



​You know you’re in Peace Corps Rwanda when…

This experience is challenging me and changing me in ways I never expected,and I try hard to share those metamorphic experiences with you, but ​I don’t have something important to say all the time. Sometimes all I can do is look at where I am and who I’ve become and laugh. 

This is a list I’ve been adding to since PST. If you’re in the Peace Corps, especially here or somewhere similar, you may see yourself in these items. If you’re not, you can probably get a more realistic picture of my life from this than from any of my thoughtful posts.

Without further ado, you know you’re in Peace Corps Rwanda when…

  • You have strong feelings about the best types of pit latrine
  • You have a stockpile of paper bags because you know market vendors will charge you for a bag
  • You get really excited about balanced meals

  • You fear schisto but will probably swim in a lake at some point during your service
  • You have no qualms about someone sitting on your lap on the twege
  • Your fantasies include ice, berries, varieties of cheese, and cold milk that won’t give you TB
  • You can’t remember the last time you left the house in shorts and you feel marginally indecent in a sleeveless shirt
  •  “I’m so glad I’m not on a bus” is a sentiment you feel frequently
  • You no longer assume that a library will actually have books in it
  • You assume everything will start an hour or so behind schedule 
  • You have a favourite method of lighting your charcoal stove and are suspicious of any other way—bonus points if that method is not “bury a candle in it”
  • You’ve accepted that at some point in your service you will be on a bus with someone else’s vomit on you
  • You own multiple igitenge clothing items, probably in Western styles that no self-respecting Rwandan would actually make out of igitenge
  • You know all the best places for American food in Kigali
  • You’re semi-seriously hoping for a mild medical emergency so you can see South Africa on PC’s dime
  • Your excuse about why you’re not married/don’t have kids yet is so automatic you could answer personal questions in your sleep
  • You’ve found sneaky ways to get alcohol into your house without your neighbours noticing that you drink
  • You can discuss diarrhoea like a champ
  • You understand my village is exceptional when I say, “I’ve seen at least ten dogs,” and you know it’s really spectacular when I add, “And nobody throws rocks at them”

  • You either love or hate foods like isombe, ibitoki, and ubugari
  • You have the malaria symptoms memorised
  • You know that 7000 is exorbitant for a single burger, but you’re still willing to pay for it every time you go to Bourbon
  • You no longer equate free WiFi with functional service
  • You consider any trip under an hour to be “not bad,” especially if it doesn’t involve tweges
  • You don’t even question the presence of that 23-year-old in your Senior 4 English class
  • You skip work if it’s raining 
  • And you acknowledge your muzungu-ness any time you do have to walk through the rain
  • You’ve almost forgotten the existence of fridges
  • You know that every PCV falls into one of two categories: those who wear their giant PC-issue moto helmet and those who don’t
  • “Subiramo?” (“Repeat?”) is a staple of your vocabulary
  • You look at any rice sack as a potential teaching aid
  • You know that no event is complete without Fanta

Feel free to add in the comments if you think of more I’m missing! 


It’s Good

“Ni byiza.” 

“It’s good.”

We learned this phrase in our first language session, and over the past few weeks, I’ve caught myself repeating it over and over. 

In the beginning, I didn’t know a better response for almost any question I was asked. How was I doing? Ni byiza. How was the food? Ni byiza. How was language learning? Ni byiza. 

I still catch myself saying this often, especially when discussing some quirk of Rwandan culture of some embarrassing language or cultural mistake. 

This whole experience is beginning to divide into categories in my mind. 

Things I expected:

  • Hot sun and dusty roads 
  • Lots of staring
  • Rice and beans
  • Noun classes
  • Sunburns and bug bites
  • Bucket showers and pit latrines 
  • Slow/nonexistent internet 
  • Cows and chickens on the roads
  • Haggling in the market 
  • House help
  • Long lessons
  • Language barrier 
  • Fear of standing in front of a classroom

Things I didn’t expect:

  • Reserved culture—Rwandans are nice but more standoffish than I’d expected
  • Chilly days
  • Almost total lack of non-meat animals (aside from ubiquitous giant magpie-looking birds) 
  • Almost total lack of coffee
  • Extremely supportive PCVs constantly on hand to answer questions and ease our transition 
  • Lack of daily rain during rainy season
  • Lack of humidity
  • Effort involved in acquiring water 
  • Brushing teeth with a water bottle and spitting into a latrine drain
  • Total inability to connect laptop to internet 
  • Extreme ease of texting/calling family and friends in the States 
  • Being unable to buy a pillow for weeks on end
  • Mixed consonants
  • Another TCK in the group 
  • Receiving preferential treatment from my host family—I still get fed first and take my tea out of nice mugs that nobody else in the family uses

Things I’m still uncomfortable with:

  • Bucket showers
  • Being stared at/followed/called “muzungu”  (“white person” or “foreigner”) 
  • Being uncertain whether any given child approaching will ignore me, follow silently, great me politely, or demand money
  • Constant people and social pressure wearing me out 
  • The concept of me as a teacher
  • Dichotomy between cultural emphasis on cleanliness and lack of some forms of hygiene—significantly hand washing 
  • Verb tenses 
  • Pressure on women to dress/behave properly 
  • Many cockroaches and a rat in my latrine
  • People talking very quietly 
  • Cooking over a charcoal stove

Thinks I’m surprised to discover I like:

  • Pit latrines—you never actually touch the facilities, so it feels cleaner than a toilet and smells better than any outhouse I’ve ever encountered
  • Market shopping—overwhelming, but satisfying and comfortable now that I know a few vendors
  • Repetitive food
  • Learning about the Rwandan school system
  • Porridge
  • Green bananas
  • Evenings at the garden bar with 40 other Americans 
  • Eating supper at 8:30 or 9:00
  • Watching the news in Kinyarwanda and understanding every fifth word 
  • Trying  to converse with my umukozi despite a complete language barrier 
  • Chatting with passing strangers on the walk home
  • Kinyarwanda’s complexity

    These lists grow and shrink moment by moment, experience by experience. Ultimately, to each item, I find myself saying, “Ni byiza.” 

    The expected and the unexpected are equally good. Recognising what I dislike is as valuable as noticing what I enjoy about this new life. Ni byiza, all of it. 

    The more I say it, the more I realise it’s not a judgment I get to pass on the culture or situation, but a position I take. It’s a choice to see each of these things as somehow, in some way, good. 

    I don’t get to choose any of these things. This is where I am, and this is the way things are, and the choice I have when faced with this is to recognise all of it and say, “Ni byiza.” 



    A. A. Milne wrote a poem called “Halfway Down.” The second verse goes like this:

    Halfway up the stairs
    Isn’t up
    And it isn’t down.
    It isn’t in the nursery,
    It isn’t in town.
    And all sorts of funny thoughts
    Run round my head.
    It isn’t really
    It’s somewhere else

    Tonight I find myself on that halfway stair.


    I’m halfway here or there—halfway home or not—halfway staying or going—halfway beginning or ending.

    All of my things are packed, either inaccessible in suitcases to be locked in checked baggage, or carefully situated in my carry-on, or safely tucked away in storage bins to await my return. This puts me in a strange position, just for twelve hours or so, of having nothing.

    It’s a feeling of rootlessness I know too well and yet am always surprised by—this question of where I live, where I belong. At the moment, it’s easy to pinpoint; I certainly don’t live here anymore, but I certainly don’t live in Rwanda yet.

    Sometimes it’s more subtle, not marked by where I’ve settled or not settled but by a quiet awareness inside me. Sometimes it’s the unexpected distaste of filling my office with personal items. Sometimes it’s the reluctance to actually unpack a suitcase, since I’ll probably be packing it again soon. Sometimes it’s a fake smile when I meet a new friend, or a longing glance at a world map on a passing wall.

    My halfway stair is clear to see at the moment, dramatically bookended by two very different countries, by an obvious before and after. It’s all too clear that this is the step breaking my life in half—my childhood and my adulthood suddenly splitting away from each other in the scanning of a boarding pass.

    But there have been other halfway stairs. Sometimes it feels like my whole life is a halfway stair, frozen between something and something else—I seldom know what. My whole life feels like that moment between a long sigh and a sudden inhale.

    Neil Das wrote a “Haiku on Moving—For Friends Newly Moved”:

    home’s the skin we live
    in, moving its shedding; you
    now new and tender

    they say you leave your
    heart, i say your lungs; it may
    take some time to breathe