School Ceremony

A little while ago was the 13^th anniversary of my school. To celebrate, there was no school. The students uprooted banana trees and junipers, placed them around the classrooms with white and pink toilet paper as streamers, and drew on the black boards. Some students are really gifted with chalk, drawing gorillas and intricate designs in commemoration of the school.

As the person with the camera, I was the designated photographer of the day. I had the pleasure of attending a three hour long mass in the morning, an hour of student science projects, and five hours of speeches from local school authorities and student performances. Some were really good (student performances that is, not school authority speeches, which were completely in Kinyarwanda), like karate and traditional dancing. Once all the formalities were finished came the only thing my students were interested in, which I got to hear from them every day this week until it finally happened. They were fed meat. I’m sure if I were fed porridge for breakfast and rice/corn bread (not the kind you’re thinking of, this stuff is quite flavorless and looks like mashed potatoes begging you to mold it into something) and beans for lunch and dinner every day I’d be elated at the thought of meat. As a rule, I don’t eat meat at my site, which left me with a single small potato for dinner, and the only thing eaten since the night before (it was now 5pm). This didn't bother me but in hindsight I should have risked the meat because of what soon followed. Primus, and lots of it.

Against all my better judgment, I warmly accepted the 40oz beer (also warm) and the 5 others that followed. In the words of a fellow PCV here in Rwanda, “America may have my heart but Africa is claiming my liver.” Almost immediately after the cracking open of the first beer the refectory turned into a veritable dance club with teachers openly passing beers to students, teachers getting down low, and me getting sucked into the mob of students taking shirts off and waving them around dancing. Fast forward a mere three hours and I’m getting ready to crawl into bed and pass out having eaten only a potato in 24 hours. I should also mention that there was a photo shoot that happened. See pictures below.

The morning after, leaving my house to head into town for a regional meeting, felt like a walk of shame. Head bowed down low, sunglasses on to avoid the gaze of onlookers, quick steady walk to the main road. Luckily most people were too busy cleaning up the mess made during the night to notice me and I was able to slip away.