Baby Steps and Moto Thoughts

A lot of my time here is spent on motorcycles like the ones in the photo. Commonly known as "motos", they function pretty much like taxis. The only difference is you negotiate the price before you ride. They are a little dangerous, although (knock on wood) I've never been in an accident on one, but they're the fastest way to get anywhere if you don't have your own vehicle and cheaper than an actual taxi car. A lot of thinking happens on these motos. They are my breaks between each reality. My time to prepare. My time to reflect.

Something I have been doing a lot of reflecting on lately: I am extremely introverted. Some people who know me well might argue with me, but more often than not, talking to people I don't know terrifies me. Not because I have anything against people. I just get overwhelmingly nervous, and I have trouble forming sentences. And that's just speaking in English. Now take that and add it to the fact that I'm in a country where I barely know anyone AND don't speak the local language fluently (yet). Not pretty.

One of the worst manifestations of this was at my first Rwandan family gathering. It was early on during my first visit to Rwanda back in the summer of 2014. My husband (then boyfriend), Toussaint, and I were visiting the northwestern corner of the country at Lake Kivu. Our second morning there, as we were getting ready for the day and discussing our plans to visit the lake, he informed me that we needed to stop at the home of some cousins who lived in the area. He told me we would only be there for a couple of hours. I've learned never to believe that. Long story short, it turned out to be a party to celebrate a newborn in the family (something people do here more commonly than a baby shower), and we were there all day long (something people do here more commonly than stopping by for a couple of hours). I met so many people in one day. I couldn't tell you now if I have ever seen the same people since because all of the faces have turned to mush in my mind.

Toussaint is quite the opposite of me when it comes to how we interact in large groups. He's the life of the party. I'm sure that's largely why we're attracted to each other. So, half of the time at his cousin's house I spent looking for where he bounced off to, trying to hint, ever so subtly, that I was ready to leave. The other half I spent sitting silently and nervously while his family members either spoke to each other, all in Kinyarwanda, or stared at me, occasionally asking me the few questions in English they knew. So many people at once. So many customs at once. When we finally arrived back to the lodge where we were staying, I burst into a fit of tears, snot, and hyperventilation. I had never been so overwhelmed with social anxiety in my life. I think it was a first for him too. He didn't quite know how to handle me at the time. I'll just say that he's experienced it enough since then that he's figured out how to mop up the puddles.

I would love to tell the other introverts out there that one or two experiences with this sort of thing takes the edge off and that it's all a breeze after that. Sadly, I cannot. Since moving here, I'm finding that my biggest adversary is my own self when encountering other people. Every time I have to catch a moto, every time I pass someone staring at me and wonder if I should say something or look away, every time I have to work up the courage to use the little bit of Kinyarwanda that I know in order to express something, my heart pounds, my palms sweat, and I often feel like crying once it's all over. Even a short walk down the street leaves me emotionally exhausted at times. The first couple of months after moving here, this kept me from going outside of the house. Some days, during the period of time when we were staying with some of his extended family, I wouldn't even leave the bedroom they had us in, except to go eat. I'm sure this sounds a bit pathetic. It feels pathetic. I have often thought I was the worst candidate to be in this position. This should be an anthropologist, a missionary, a businesswoman, a people-person. Being here has shown me how anti-people of a person I can really be.

But then things happen that tell me that this is exactly where I need to be. Not for any grand humanitarian purpose. Just for me. The other day, I was down the street at the bagel shop which I now frequent, and I decided I wanted to talk to the girl working there. I had been feeling like I needed to make more Rwandan friends, particularly girls. So after she gently told me I should probably leave because they were closing, I decided to engage her in a conversation.Very uncharacteristic of me, especially after someone tells me to go away. We chatted, she gave me her number and we ended up walking together and talking. She even helped me find a bus back home (I know I said the shop was down the street, but I would have to go uphill to get back, and I was feeling lazy). Simple. But it was a step.

The other day I was on a moto and I had the driver stop at an ATM. After I finished my business at the machine I started to get on the wrong moto, and when the original driver tried to get me to come with him, I shook my head "no" in a rather stern manner, thinking he was another driver trying to get me to go with him. But when he put his helmet back on, I realized he was the original driver. I just laughed and the two drivers laughed and we went on our way. As we were moving, I realized that the usual heart-pounding, palm sweating, dreaded feeling that typically follows after such an encounter, didn't happen. Simple. But it was a step.

So, on another moto, riding back home from work, I had the thought that, I really am going to be just fine. And not just that. I am going to defeat some of my biggest mountains while I'm here, and I already have evidence. Maybe I'm not here for the same honorable reasons many foreigners come here for. Maybe I don't have some spectacular business model that will boost the economy, or some mission-minded NGO to work for, and maybe I am just finding ways to be occupied or simply get myself out of the house, but I am totally convinced that it is a good thing that I'm here. I'm here to support someone I love, to learn how to live independently, and to walk through day-to-day life in a different pair of shoes. And that's just fine.

I'll let you know what I come up with with after my next moto ride. ;)