You Really Cannot Plan on Doing More Than One Event on a Sunday

2/28/10

                  This is a lesson I've learned time and time again, but each time I think, "This shouldn't take that long, I can probably go do this or that after."  No, it never works that way!  Things always start late and last longer than you think!  

Today we had a volleyball and football match against another school called TTC.  Actually it was supposed to be 4 games – the boys' teams and the girls' teams for each sport. 

 It began at 10am, the girls and boys played wonderfully in the volleyball matches, but alas, TTC was victorious.  

They also had a much more energetic fan base.  But for us, this is the first time we've done this.  This is the first year that St. Mary Dominique Mazzarello Secondary School exists, and so of course all the kids in 4^th form are still getting comfortable with each other.  For being our first time, I think we did pretty good.  Now, the football matches were the real problem.  We reserved a field a bit of a distance away. 

Sr. Rose had to drive packed-in carfuls (actually Land Cruiser-fulls) of people, taking 3 trips.  Well, our girl’s team arrives there at noon, our reserved timeslot.  The fans and food-bearers (we brought some passion fruit juice and ndazi for after they finished playing) came later, as space in the vehicle allowed.  Well, I was in the last car trip, and we learned that at about 1:30 pm when we arrived, TTC had not showed up.

Our players were hungry and tired, and we decided that TTC forfeited.  As we're discussing this situation, now close to 2pm, the other team arrives.  It turns out the referee had told them to go home and eat lunch and to return later.  But he never passed this information onto us.  Innocent, one of our profs who is also the teams' coach, was livid.  There was intense, heated arguing going on between Innocent and the referee, and between our team members and TTC members, and between Sr. Charlotte and somebody from TTC.  I had no idea what anyone was saying, but there was certainly anger in the air.  Miscommunication + hunger + a well-fed team happily sauntering in ready to play = an unpleasant mix.  So Innocent sent the players to the other end of the field to eat their ndazi and juice.  Meanwhile he and Sr. Charlotte and the TTC coach made arrangements to reschedule the match for Wednesday. 

While everyone was eating their indazi, there was of course a small herd of children near us.  These were really poor kids, very dirty and wearing very torn clothes.  Some of our students would give them a piece of their ndazi, and the kids were really happy about that.  

But on a few occasions, one of our players would make a game out of it, tossing a chunk of bread up into the air and smacking it like a volleyball serve.  The little kids would run and chase it down like a pack of dogs.  I was disturbed by this, but the kids seemed to be really enjoying it.  They had big smiles on their faces as they played fetch.  But still, these are hungry, impoverished children and we are tossing them food as if it is some kind of joke.  I could tell, though, that these children weren't starving.  They didn't fight over who got a piece and who didn't, nor did all of them flock to the bread-giver like paperclips to a magnet.  They kind of accepted that whoever got bread got bread, and whoever didn't, didn't. 

                  I was happy to finally pack back into the car and drive home to eat.  Innocent, the Sisters, and I had not eaten anything since breakfast, so we were hungry.  And I was fortunate enough to be invited into the first car-load home.  The other started walking and Sr. Rose drove back to meet them on the way.  I can't imagine being so tired after playing volleyball, waiting in the sun for our opponents, arguing for an hour, and then having to walk home.  

The resilience of these people continually amazes me. 

Today is a typical Monday…

Today is a typical Monday…I showed up at the beginning of the school day to see if any teachers were MIA that I'd need to replace until further notice.  Only one of them was missing, but he doesn't teach till later.  So I'm free to blog and email and do whatever else I see fit.  Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays are usually like that, actually.  But somehow I always manage to stay pretty busy, and I'm still not caught up with blogging and emails!  I try to use the free time to plan lessons also, in order that when I do teach the teachers or Sr. Rose, or if the schedule changes again and I am given more classes, I will have efficient and effective lessons.

On Thursdays and Fridays I teach Vincent's 4^th Form English class.  This is the large, co-ed class, which now numbers 36 students.  I feel better about my ability to conduct this class now.  I've become a bit more authoritative in telling them to quiet down, but now it’s a matter of giving them material that is actually useful.  So the problem is this: Vincent writes out his lessons according to what the Ministry of Education requires.  He needs to finish off his internship every Thursday and Friday for the next 2 months, so I'm replacing him on those days.  But his lessons are only grammatical topics.  I write the notes on the board, the students copy them, then I ask someone to read a paragraph of the notes, and I explain them.  He includes exercises at the end of the lesson, things like fill-in-the-blanks, and correct the errors in this sentence, etc.  So we do the exercises individually then discuss them as a class.  There are no speaking exercises given!  And there are no think-for-yourself exercises!  Everything is extremely passive, severely lacking in giving practice creating your own coherent sentences, and saying them out loud.  I tweaked his lessons a bit on Friday to give them a group assignment in which they simply had to use a given adjective in a sentence of their own.

They worked together in groups of 4 to write one sentence.  Out of 9 groups, only one group actually used their adjective correctly.  The majority of the sentences resembled this one: Our president Paul Kagame has a resourceful.  I tried my best to explain that you need to include a noun after your adjective, or you need to use the verb "to be."  Example: Our president Paul Kagame has a resourceful team.  Or, our president Paul Kagame has a team that is resourceful.  I'm not sure if they got it…the thing is, I know they know what an adjective is.  They know that an adjective describes a noun like the back of their hand.  But obviously, putting it into practice is another story.

So, I'm really struggling in giving his lessons.  I'm perpetuating the English problem!  I would really like to offer a conversation-only class.  I wish they could squeeze me into the schedule somehow so that I could teach the same students regularly, with a good plan and longer-term goals.  But who knows, everything may again change completely and this wish will be granted to me.  We'll just wait and see. 

I want to mention how much I love getting emails! (jaclyn.krupsky@gmail.com) I wish I had more time to email friends and famly from back home.  When I do get around to sending one, I get super excited to check my email the next day or so in hopes that they wrote back.  Distance really does make the heart fonder!  Even the stupidest little jokes that someone puts in their email make me fall on the floor laughing, because they remind me of that person's personality.  Its really really good to receive correspondence, so thanks!  And I'm at a very good place in terms of homesickness.  I've never felt truly homesick, to the point of being sad/lonely/wishing I were at home instead of here.  I've consistently been very happy to be here.  So when I receive a token of friendship from back home, I of course miss that person.  But I don't feel sad or lonely.  Instead, I'm very excited when I remember that I will see them again.  I remember that I will eventually go back to good ol' U.S. of A. and give gigantic hugs to all these people.  It makes me very grateful for my friends and my support network in general.

Murakoze cyane!  Thank you very much!

Post Office Again

So I mailed a package home today.  Man it was insane…how many times did I want to burst out laughing and say to the two guys running the post office, “Seriously, what are you doing?  And what do you guys do back there all day?”  It was so ridiculously disordered and it seemed that the guys had no system whatsoever.  Unfortunately, the box Mom sent me 2 weeks ago has not arrived.  There was, however, a box from Michel, a previous Canadian volunteer, which he had mailed on 11/30/2009.  So it very well may take 2 months to arrive.  Bummer.

The one I sent home looks like a  Christmas package because I had to put about 30 stamps on it.  First they weighed it, and told me it would cost 1700 frw.  Not bad, I thought, that’s like $3.  So then he gives me a strip of about a dozen stamps, and I ask him if I need to put them somewhere specific.  He says anywhere is fine.  Another guy comes from the back with a mug whose handle was broken off, filled with water.  Ah ha, I see.  I must put the stamps on myself…of course you don’t have a postage label maker or anything like that.  So I just use my fingers to wet the stamps and slap them on nicely.  Well, the two guys shuffle through some papers and look in some binders for about 5 minutes, disputing about something in Kinyarwanda.  Thankfully there was another patron at the window who was very kind and would repeat everything to me that the guy said, because he talked so so so quietly!  So this other man informed me that they accidentally told me the fee for sending a package to Europe.  It costs more to send one to the U.S.  So I actually ended up paying about $9.  Still not bad.  But as a result, I had to double the amount of stamps slapped on that puppy.  I was almost running out of room!  So it looks real nice :)

            I had to go around the back to claim our package from Michel.  So I go in to sit at the desk, and there are somewhat-separated piles of boxes all over the floor around me.  I can see a pile of U.S.P.S. boxes, and I was peering over to see if any of them were from you, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a Krupsky address.  Seriously, I wish you could have seen the inside of this post office.  It’s just a warehouse with boxes in the corner.  And there’s the “desk,” and then there’s the desk at the window where the one guy sits and serves the customers.  This desk is strewn with papers of who knows what, along with a single scale for weighing packages, and 2 metal boxes where they keep the money.  And there are binders and random papers with tax information and registers of received packages just laying around.  And they leave the binders open with all this exposed information…I read through with my own eyes the list of packages received on 2/3/10, and scanned for the Krupsky name.  But alas, it was not there.  And even when I picked up the package that Michel sent, I signed my own name, even though the package was for Sr. Candide.  They didn’t look or check.  To tell you the truth, I’m really not worried about anyone eating my candy.  At least not those two guys.  It’ll take months for them to even realize there’s candy inside!!!!

            On my way home I was proud to be firm and assertive in my insisting on a moto ride home of only 300 frw.  The first one I hailed tried to charge me maganatanu (500 frw), and I said to him “oya, maganatatu (300 frw).”  This is the usual rate for Muhato to town and vice versa; this is what I paid to get to the post office.  But he wasn’t budging, kept saying “C’est trop loin.  (It’s too far.)”.  So after arguing a bit in French, I told him I’d search for another.  The second guy tried charging me 400, but by this time it had begun to drizzle.  So I reluctantly agreed.  But, on the way I saw Eleanora, an Italian Caritas volunteer who I met a few months ago, and he stopped so I could talk to her for a good 2 minutes!  

So I think that deserves an extra 100 frw.  

Ash Wednesday

Sr. Gisele asked me to watch the children while Liberata went out to do an errand.  As usual, I was not told what time to expect her return.  Mentally I was preparing myself to spend the entire day with them, because odds are she won't be back anytime soon.  Also as usual, there was absolutely no direction given about what you should do with these kids.  Probably because there is no set "activity" that Liberata does with the children.  She actually teaches reading/writing to the 4 or so couture girls who have never had any school.  So she is busy with that and she just basically makes sure the kids don't beat each other up.  So I was off to a pretty nice start with Neli, Jaquine, Lucky, Adeline, and Chancey.  Sr. Charlotte asked me to make a banner for the church for Lent, so I brought it into the garderie with me and was working on coloring it. 

Well, the kids were in awe.  They all came to stand around my table and watch, jibberjabbering in Kinyarwanda all the while.  Seriously, for at least an hour they just watched me color.  A few of them would wander off and play by themselves for a while.  I was singing the whole time, and I tried to repeat the couple Kinyarwanda songs that I know.  They sang along too, it was fun.  And they were really very respectful and well-behaved.  They didn't try to color my banner or take crayons or anything.  They understood that this was not something to play with.  Well, after about 2 hours of that, I made the mistake of going in the "food room" to put a key away.  The kids' moms bring thermoses of porridge and/or portable thermos-like things of potatoes and other vegetables.  We have a few cups and one spoon that the kids share.  Yes, we have one spoon.  I don't know why we only have one…there are more at the house…so anyways, there is food there for the kids to eat.  Here's a few of them enjoying snack time with a mama during recreation

But of course, I have no idea if there is a certain time when they are allowed to eat, or if certain food can only be given to certain kids.  So when I walk in there to put the key away, of course they all follow me.

And Lucky, a 3 year-old drama machine, heads straight for the canister of food that mama brought.  She asks me something, but of course I can't understand her.  Actually throughout the whole coloring session, they were trying to talk to me a lot, and they're at the age where they don't understand that I don't understand them.  They see me as a "big person," and they think "of course she knows what I'm saying.  She's a big person."  They have no concept of different languages yet, even if I told them in Kinyarwanda that I don't speak Kinyarwanda.  So anyways, Lucky said something, probably "I'm hungry."  I had no clue how to open this food canister, but one of the other kids showed me.  Upon seeing that it was potatoes and vegetables, I decide that I should ask first before giving this to her.  Since I couldn't ask the children, I closed the canister and told them to wait. 

And boom – she starts having a hissy fit.  Never show a 3 year-old some food and then tell her she can't have it!  Don't dangle the dream and then take it away!  She screamed and screamed.  I went to ask Sr. Gisele what the food policy was, and on the way I meet Sr. Charlotte.  She says she'll come help me.  So she goes in to intervene, and meanwhile I also see that Lucky has peed her pants.  Again, this mini-disaster could have been prevented if I spoke Kinyarwanda …darn.  Earlier we had all taken a potty break, and everybody except Lucky went potty.  When I told her it was her turn, she kind of waddled around aimlessly, said something, and then headed for the exit.  One of the other kids said something to me that I didn't understand, and they all left to go back to the garderie.  Oh well, I thought.  Maybe she doesn't have to go.  Nope.  She definitely should have. 

So we have a crying, wet 3-year old, and fortunately now we have a Kinyarwanda speaker who is able to mediate the situation.  Sr. Charlotte asks me if Lucky's mom brought more clothes.  She laughs as I give a I-have-just-been-thrown-into-this-and-I-have-no-idea-how-anything-works-here look in response.  So she strips her down, sits her on her lap, and gives her a bowl of potatoes.  There's a Salesian if I ever saw one: a nun in full habit squatting on the ground with a naked toddler sitting in her lap, recently contented with a bowl of food.  And the other kids are standing around, being very well-behaved again.  I was expecting them to all want to eat also, or throw a similar fit because it isn't fair that one person gets potatoes and the others don't.  But they didn't.  And they also really didn't care that Lucky was hanging out with them completely in the nude.  In general it seems they don't really perceive things as "private," they all kind of watched each other go to the bathroom too. 

Oh – side note about the bathrooms: at our school we have toilets for the teachers.  But the students' bathrooms are imisarani.  This is a "village" bathroom.  It’s a bunch of individual stalls, one stall for each class, and there's a hole in the ground with a plastic tray surrounding it.  You squat over the hole, do your thing, and go get a bucket of water to pour down after.  There's a floor squeegee also if need be, in order to clean up "spills." 

So the other kids went about playing, and Sr. Charlotte looked for some clothes for Lucky.  She found a sweater, but no pants.  So, she'll just have to be pantsless for a while.  She told her not to go outside.  And that was that.  She left to go get Lucky's mom from her classroom to see about getting some bottoms on this child.  Her mom came, but she said she didn't bring anything because she didn't expect her to pee her pants.  So Lucky will just remain pantsless until further notice. 

Ok.  Meanwhile, Chancey, who is Lucky's older sister, probably about 6 years old, starts moaning by the door of the food room.  Her mom tells me that she wants to eat now too.  Sorry, I didn't know because I can't understand anything these children tell me.  Really, I am not the right person to be doing this job.  So I give Chancey some food and she calms down. 

Fortunately, we had Mass with all the students at 11am.  So I was relieved of my duties at about 10:45am, as the moms would each be responsible for their respective kids during Mass.  It really was a challenging morning, solely because of the fact that I could not understand what the kids were saying to me.  Probably all of the struggles could have been avoided if the language barrier was not present.  Nonetheless, I offered it up.  During Mass, Lucky's mom had another mom take her.  This is also something very Rwandan – the sharing of the caring for kids.  Its very common to see several ladies pass a child around.  One of them will come to church with the child on her back, then another lady with breastfeed it when it starts crying, then she'll pass her back to her friend who carried the baby for her.  There seems to be a beautiful mom support network.  Mom-friends helping mom-friends.  Its nice.  So Lucky's mom's friend wrapped her naked lower half in a sheet and held her the whole time.  She fell asleep, so that was good.  Her mom went home to get some pants.  Problem solved.

After Mass, Liberata had not returned yet, much to my dismay.  I was really tired, and was of course hungry cuz I was fasting, and just didn't want to encounter any more Kinyarwanda-related problems with the children.  But I offered it up.  And actually the rest of the afternoon was pretty fun.  But overall, they were much louder today than normal.  A few people commented after school that they could hear the children wreaking havoc.  Lucky cried whenever she didn't get her way, and its super loud.  And Jaquine got her finger pinched in the door, and also cried out in pain.  But she was ok after a couple hugs and kisses.  The room is a huge echo chamber basically, so crying really resonates throughout the whole school and all the classrooms can hear.  Delightful. 

The next few hours I sat down and played with them, building things out of legos, using plastic trees as telephones, and letting them play with my hair for about an hour and a half.  The school is pretty fortunate to have a few toys for the kids.  They play in a fenced-in playpen kind of thing, with a woven tapestry on the floor.  They have some legos, a couple of balls, a couple igitambalo's (pieces of fabric used to tie your baby to your back or any other random use) and some random pieces of what must have once been a build-a-city type game.  And its really cute to see the little girls play with their babies.  Both Jaquine and Lucky have little stuffed animals that are their babies.  They do just like their mamas and use a little strip of fabric to tie them to their backs.  Its adorable. 

Sr. Rose came to relieve me for a brief lunch break at about 2:45pm.  I was happy about that.  Finally at 3:30pm, their mamas came to get them and clean up the garderie.  It was a long and difficult day, but also had its fun times too.  I learned a lot by trial-and-error, like how to help a little kid go pee in the imisarani in order to prevent her from squatting and peeing on the bottom of her pants.  I think next time I'll be more prepared, if I am ever thrown in there again. 

In general, the spontaneity of my job has been a bit nerve-wracking.  I must be very flexible, and constantly able to go occupy a classroom for an unspecified amount of time.  I dislike not knowing when the regularly-scheduled teacher will arrive, or when Liberata will come back.   That's probably an American thing, having too tight a grip on time.

But it’s a good sacrifice to make, just like Koinonia!

Today I went to an AB gathering/party

   AB is an organization run by Caritas international to help prevent the spread of AIDS.  It stands for Abstinence, Be Faithful, and works with local parishes to help them teach young people about abstinence and being faithful in marriage.  It was John actually who told me about this fete, and then I received invitations from a few others as well.  I unfortunately had to miss Mass and the beginning of the day's events, which included final competitions between teams at each subparish.  They had spent the past week competing  against each other in soccer games, dance performances, and skit performances.  So today they awarded the "cups."  Which are actually just a paper picture of the cup.  Its more about the glory and satisfaction in knowing you won.  So I came after I had finished my lesson with Sr. Rose, at about 12:30pm.  It was pretty funny…as I crossed the road, a group of kids saw me and all started doing the moves to Chin Chin.  I complimented them on their awesomeness and asked them if they were going to dance at the fete.  They said yes, probably not really understanding what I said, but then they all followed me, like 40 kids.  But then they disbursed quickly. 

I came during the middle of a quiz-show type thing, where I think each subparish had a team and they had to answer questions about AIDS prevention and/or spread.  It was all in Kinyarwanda, but man were they getting into it!  They were cheering each other on like crazy, shooting their hands in the air with all their might when they knew an answer, and heatedly debating it when the emcee told them they weren't fully correct.  Even though I couldn't understand anything, it was really cool to see the enthusiasm with which these young people were discussing this topic.  I was given one of the "seats of honor," which are some desks at the front of the room, facing the crowd.  This is very typical at all the types of gatherings I've been to.  They always pull out a row of chairs that are for the "special people," aka the priests, Sisters, people who work at the parish, and me.  Then performers face us while the other spectators form a circle around them to watch.  

At first I thought this was weird and unfair to the majority of the people who must watch from the back.  But now I see that it is such an important part of their culture to honor your guests and treat respected individuals with honor.  So I was happy to be considered worthy of a "special seat." 

So after the AIDS debate, we all went outside for a brief dance performance from some guests from the Nyundo Cultural Center.  These were real Intore dancers – wearing the all-out traditional dress, guys and girls, and really, really know how to move.  And they always have a huge smile on their face, it is delightful to watch.  

Unfortunately I missed the part where the guys put on long wigs of whitish straw-like stuff, grab spears and shields and dance.  I think there will be more opportunities throughout the next 3 months…I'm not worried.  I really enjoyed watching these guys and girls dance.  Their moves are really complex and precise, and they have so much joy and energy!  After their dance, we concluded the AIDS debate with some kind of final round that I didn't really follow.  Then we awarded the cups.  I was asked to present the "cups" to the girls soccer teams.  It was nice to be given this honor even though I never watched any of these soccer games, nor did I know the girls to whom I presented the cups! 

We also gave little prizes to the final winners of the AIDS debate.  Certain individuals from each subparish team were selected to come forward for their excellent answers.  They received three notebooks and a plastic wash basin. 

 These are essential items for students, as all of them were (I think).  Most people here bathe by using a plastic wash basin as mentioned.  I think us at the convent are quite privileged to use showers.  But I really don't know, this is just what I am assuming. 

Now by this time, it was like 2:30pm and I was hungry.  Finally the prize-giving ended, and I wanted to take my leave and go eat.  But of course, we need to welcome the guests with a Fanta.  Fr. Antoine and John both insisted that I come for this, saying it will be only 10 minutes.  In my mind I know that it will be at least a half an hour, probably more.  Well, good golly am I glad I stayed!  The "after-party welcome" was a smaller gathering of only the "special people" in the seats of honor and the Nyundo dancers.  It is custom that you don't send your guests on their walk home hungry, especially if they have spent the day with you.  So we fed them, and since I was hungry I was happy too.  There were some speeches of thanks and introductions, and then more dancing began.  Only this time it wasn't a show, but a freaking awesome everybody-participate dance party! 

The guys and the girls in their traditional garb started doing one of their numbers, and everybody else joined in, of course not knowing the steps but it totally didn't matter. 

  We all just danced however we felt compelled.  During certain parts the Nyundo people would come dance with one of us non-dancer people, and I had a super fun time trying to dance like the girl who was dancing with me.  We had this party for at least a half an hour, and there was a nice crowd of kids watching in through the windows.  Father Antoine, while dancing too, went over to them and told them that they should dance too, outside.  Love it. 

I had an insanely fun time, and I felt very free to dance my heart out!

My how things change

At the beginning of the week I was frustrated with my new teaching schedule.  Since I’m only here through the end of May, I was not assigned to teach a regular class, as I was hoping.  The first few days of school I substituted, and I was given no notice of this.  Just a “hey, 4eme hotellerie has no teacher for the next hour.  Can you teach them some English?”  Luckily by this time I’ve got a bunch of lesson ideas already planned out, so it wasn’t too bad.  But I would have liked to plan better.  I was told that I’ll be teaching supplementary classes from 3:30pm to 4:30pm, and then again from 5:30 to 7.  

But what should I do during the day?  Good question.  I asked Sr. about this, and she told me that I can help Joselyne in the secretariat (I’m really not sure what that would entail…that’s basically the library, which is 2 bookcases), I can substitute, and I might take over Liberata’s job of caring for the children (we have a nursery for moms who study at our school.).  And I am also helping Pascaline sell tea and bread/cakes to the students during their recreation period.  They don’t get a lunchbreak, so we’ve agreed to purchase small items for them to buy.  So, on-the-spot subbing, random clerical tasks, setting up and taking down the daily tea sales, and singing and dancing with 5 kids in the garderie was my potential job description.  I was a bit discontented with this for a few days, as these things are not at all what I signed up for.  Don’t get me wrong, if that’s what the need is, then I’ll gladly do it.  But seeing that there are tons of people in this area who need to learn English, and I came here to meet that need, I’m feeling that this is not how I should spend the next 4 months.  I actually don’t know why they didn’t give me a regular class to teach for this trimester.  I’m here through the entire current one, which ends in April.  I leave during the middle of the next trimester.  But it’s kind of too late now because the teachers’ schedules are already set.  

Meanwhile, I’ve had lots of my vacation students come up to me and ask when we can study again.  The public school teachers have also asked this.  I’ve told them to wait and see for at least this week, because I do not yet know my availability.  I told them that the Sisters don’t think it’ll be possible for me to teach both at our school and classes for people at other schools (outsiders).  I hate seeing their looks of disappointment at this.  And I hate hearing things like “But I hope you can try to help us.  Because we want to learn English.”  But, Sr. Gisele told me that she doesn’t see how it will be possible to continue my vacation classes and work at our school.  Seeing the absence of teaching during the day, I wonder if there isn’t something we can arrange. 

            So those were my thoughts at the beginning of the week.  Thankfully I've learned that in Rwanda, "wait and see" is basically your solution to everything.  I didn't let myself get too upset about this lack of teaching during school, because there have been countless other instances when I've been told one thing and then a little later it's completely changed.  So I've learned to just wait things out.  And yep, guess what?  Now things have completely changed!  One of our teachers resigned on Tuesday, and he taught A LOT.  Unfortunately, he was our hospitality/tourism specialist.  Because of his presence on our teaching staff, we were able to receive accreditation by the Ministry of Education for the specific option of hotellerie at our newly-formed secondary school.  I'm not sure why he left, but now Sr. Gisele is doing her best to recruit another specialist.  As a result, I was given all his classes.  Again, with about one day's notice.  I was told to just teach English during all the times when the students would have had any of his hospitality or cooking classes.  So, this week I've had about 6 hours of teaching each day!  Crazy. 

            As I briefly mentioned above, the students study all day but do not get a lunchbreak.  They get a 20 minute recreation period at 10:50am,  and at 11:10am they're back at it.  

        Classes go straight through till 3:30pm.  I honestly can't get my mind past this.  They must be so hungry!  How do you concentrate for 4 hours when you're that hungry?  Also, they have physical education class.  They go outside and run around and play volleyball and stuff.  So some classes are doing this on an empty stomach!  Knowing that our students persevere day after day with their studies, with their hunger, with their fatigue, is what keeps me going.  Anytime I think I'm having a hard day, I always remind myself that its even harder for the students.  And it is the same for the teachers.  Here they are taking a tea-and-bread break during recreation.

For me and the Sisters, we can go back to the convent and eat lunch when we have a free period.  Pascaline works at the house for us, preparing our meals and doing cleaning and laundry.  So we get to eat something.  Usually its not till at least 1pm, but still, that's earlier than the students and the other teachers.  So when I learned that the teachers wanted to study after school twice a week, I was sort of in disbelief myself.  Plus, every Friday some students stay after to clean the school.  And, every Wednesday, the students stay until 4:30pm for "cultural activity."  They all must choose some kind of youth group or extracurricular to participate in, in order to help them be well-rounded people.  But I just can't get over the not-eating!  How can we expect them to stay that long?!?!  They seriously eat one meal a day, and its in the evening when they get home.  Probably some of them don't eat breakfast either.

            The students who study here really are very poor.  In total, there are probably about 100 students in both options (tailoring and hotellerie).  And of those 100, maybe 30 of them can afford to buy tea during recreation.  And we sell the stuff cheap, like 10 cents a glass.  And a roll or piece of bakery is about 25 cents.  The Sisters have shared stories about certain individuals who come to register for classes.  Most of them cannot pay the enrollment fees (about $25 for the trimester), which are very low compared to other high schools.  They also must pay for a uniform (a shirt is $3 and the skirt or pants is $6), but many students still do not have one because of an inability to pay.  I think a large majority of students are supported by aid organizations that provide financial support for academic fees.  Many of our students are supported by sponsors in Europe or the U.S. or other developed countries, in which these programs exist.  So thanks to people like you, many students have all of or part of their fees covered. 

        But many others have either not found an organization to cover them, or their organization has fallen through, or they rely on their families to support them and are therefore struggling to make ends meet.  The first student I met, Samuel (one of the few boys at our school, now that we're mixed) told me that at home things are very difficult.  His mother is sick and I think he said his father is either gone or no longer alive.  He said he had nothing – no notebooks, none of the school fees, no money for a uniform.  "To have something to eat at home…its terrible,"  he said.  But the Salesians stand firm in their promise that they never turn someone away from their schools due to an inability to pay.  They offer the option of working for the Sisters during vacation and on weekends, things like landscaping/yardwork, random cleaning, etc.  That way they work to earn their school fees.  Thanks to that, Samuel now has a uniform, notebooks to take notes in, and is doing very well in English class! 

What's even more, this school doubles both as a "center for professional development" and a secondary school.  To get into the secondary school, you need to have completed primary school and passed with a certain percentage on national exams.  You need at least 50% in all subjects.  Sr. Gisele said she has had many students come in to register with as low as 20% in each subject on their exams.  For these cases, she encourages them to repeat Senior 3 (the last year of school before taking national exams to complete your last 3 years of secondary school), because they would have difficulty succeeding in our classes with such low scores.  But for the center for professional development, anyone can get in.  No schooling is required.  So there are women who come to register who have never even gone to primary school.  Most of them have some schooling but were unable to finish or to take their exams.  There are a small number of students who do not even know how to read.  I have not had any interaction with these students because they are all in the tailoring option.  I've been told that tailoring is kind of a "last resort" career in Rwanda.  But, it is a pretty secure future.  Once you've completed a 2-year training program, like ours, it is not too difficult to either buy a sewing machine or rent one in a workshop.  There is always a demand for clothing, so the possibility of having a successful business is quite likely.  For the hotellerie students, they will go on to work as maids, receptionists, waiters, porters, cooks, etc.  Some may eventually become managers or even hotel/restaurant owners, if they continue onto university.  

Sr. Rose shared with me some of her sentiments for this field of work, which were also lingering in the back of my mind: who comes to these hotels?  I mean, everybody around here is poor, so certainly very few of the local people can afford to go eat out at a hotel, let alone spend a night in one.  So we're relying on foreign tourists.  "What will they come here to see?  Look around outside…will they want to see this impoverished city?  And the hills, yes its beautiful here, but you can find these hills in other neighboring countries.  So who will come stay at these hotels?  Who?"  were Sr. Rose's questions.  I also can't help but notice the disparity between the number of hotels and the number of tourists and tourist attractions that I see.  But at least for the present time, hotellerie seems to be a promising field to go into.  There are plans to build a college of hospitality and tourism in Gisenyi, and we hope to make a partnership agreement in order that our students could have a high likelihood of studying there after graduating.   

I really love the 3eme hotellerie girls.  Three students semi-live with us, that is, we rent a house for them right next to us, and the Sisters provide them with food and water for washing, etc.  One of them, Aline, is in 3eme hotellerie and is super fun.  I look forward to one day taking a hike up the hill with her and hopefully the other 2 also, as we discussed this afternoon!  The other two don't know much English, I gathered.  But they're still super smiley and always give a big wave to say hello.  So anyways, 3eme hotellerie is great because it’s a class of only 10 girls, and the group dynamic is excellent.  They get right to work when I assign them little partner conversation activities.  And when I tell them to switch partners and do it again, they have no problem because they all get along so well with each other.  The 2eme hotellerie girls are also pretty good.  There are only 8 of them, but there's a substantial difference between their comprehension ability and that of the 3eme girls (one year ahead of them).  For even the simple conversation exercises, aka read this dialogue aloud with a partner and switch roles, they usually don't understand what I want them to do.  I'll explain it orally and write the instructions on the board, but when I say "go ahead, begin" there's just silence and I have to keep prompting.  But eventually they got it.  I've found though that with this group its easier to try large-group repetitions, like I say you repeat.  They're very familiar with this type of exercise, but the partner stuff I guess is pretty new.  

This is also the case with the 4eme hotellerie class.  This class is large, about 32 students, and its mixed boys and girls.  Also known as "form 4," this is the first year of secondary school after successful completion of the national exams.  So all the students in this class have met certain scoring requirements on their exams in order to get into this class.  But, since this is the first year we've opened a 4^th form hotellerie as an accredited secondary school, the students come from all over.  A few of them studied at our school when it was only a "professional development center," and now they're able to continue their secondary school studies at the same place since we've opened form 4.  But the majority studied at other schools.  As a result, there is a wiiiiide range of competencies.  The kids in the front row are really eager to answer my questions, but when I get out my handy call-on-you-when-you're-not-paying-attention ball, and I throw it to somebody in the back, they often have no idea what the question was.  There was one girl at the very back who lingered after class to finish copying notes from the board.  Before I left the classroom I said to her politely, with a smile "You are still writing?" and she did not answer, just stared at me blankly and started packing up her things.  She thought I was telling her she had to leave.  I'm guessing that she really didn't understand most of what my lesson included if she didn't understand "you are still writing."  I feel really sorry for her and the others in class who are at that level.  Its really extremely mixed, which makes teaching very difficult. 

I also gave this class similar small-group or partner conversation exercises, just simply taking turns reading things aloud.  I had to circulate around the class to explain to each group what I meant, because I heard lots of Kinyarwanda.  To some degree this is ok, because I think most of it was in order to explain to those who were really clueless.  But I don't want to be too lenient with how much non-English conversation I allow.  So I was trying to enforce that as best I could, but it was really difficult.  I also remarked that the students were chatting a bit too much to my liking.  I would put up a picture of a person and ask what they look like/what are they wearing, and toss the ball to somebody and ask for a response.  And during their response, lots of people were talking.  I don't like this.  I think they were actually discussing the activity, probably explaining to one another what I asked and what they think the answer is, but in Kinyarwanda.  Sr. Gisele walked by and gawked as she paused in front of the window upon hearing the amount of chatter.  It quelled pretty quickly.  She really has the "directrice" thing going for her.  The students really respect her.  Whenever she enters a room, they all stand up.  She is pretty strict with uniforms too, telling, no not telling, more like commanding them, to button their buttons all the way up, and to put their scarves away unless you are sick.  I think its good that she shows this kind of authority. 

I’ve seen that I don’t hold control of the classroom very well.  I have actually observed other teacher’s classes.  One really good teacher had a much tighter grip, telling them “Please try to write faster,” “Please do not talk.  Now you write.”  I’ve slipped into the I-want-them-to-think-I’m-a-cool-teacher mindset, and I’ve become pretty lenient I think.  I almost never told my vacation class to please not talk. But also, vacation classes have a much different feel and a different goal than those during the school year.  It’s tough.  So, I want to gain more confidence in sacrificing a bit of the "fun factor" of trying to be a cool teacher, and allow myself to be a bit more firm in my directions (like not being afraid to say "stop talking please") and as a result receiving more respect as an authority figure in the classroom.

Also today, I gave the "Good Morning" to the 50 or so hotellerie students, as you see Innocent doing here

 This is an important facet of the Salesian school.  And at Salesian boarding schools, they also give a "Good Night."  These are little inspirational spiritual talks to start or end the day.  It’s a short, 5-minute thing in which the aim is to "impart Life to the youth entrusted to our care" as Sr. Rose put it roughly.  So Sr. Gisele asked me a few days ago if I'd be interested in being put on the rotation schedule (each teacher takes a turn giving the good morning).  So I learned last night that I was assigned to give today's, and then that I needed to immediately begin teaching, 5 classes straight!  That means running from Mass to shove a few pieces of bread in my mouth and then parking it in at school till about 1pm.  I planned ahead and also ate a bowl of rice with milk and sugar at about 5:45am.  It actually held me over quite well.  Sr. Gisele said it should be in English, even though all the other days have been in French.  So I really had to think hard about what I wanted to say, because it couldn't be anything too complicated.  

I practiced for like a half an hour in order to really simplify my speech, and in retrospect I think it went very well!  Sr. Gisele said she was extremely happy with it, so that's good.  I spoke about the "action de grace" during Mass, which is the thanksgiving song.  I told them about how we don't really have this in America, and I don't know why we don't do it.  I told them that Rwandans are really good at thanking the Lord, and talked about how we can thank Him in our small actions, by doing small things with great love.  I know that at least some people understood me, because they were either nodding or saying "mm hmm" in agreement periodically.  I was really happy about that.  And I was really happy that the song chosen to begin the day was "Ni buhora ho," which I know the words to!  So I san along when they started it.  

I also taught them "The Lord be with you.  Also with you."  And I said that I would say "The Lord be with you" when I entered their classrooms today, and they'd better respond!  For the most part they did, but I had to kind of re-teach it throughout the day.  Aline though, a 3^rd form girl who lives with us, has an amazing memory and said it even before I did! 

She's great :)  

Today I met an American doctor!

It was awesome.  I went into the refectory to greet the visitors that I heard chatting with the Sisters.  I greeted them in French as I normally do.  There were 2 African guys and one white woman who I assumed was European.  Later that night, Sr. Gisele knocks on my door and says "Jacqui, please could you go invite the American girl to have dinner?  We are still finishing our meeting so it will be just you two."  I said "What?!  What American girl?"  She explained that the woman who was here earlier is staying the night with us, and she is a volunteer from America!  I had no idea.  

So I knocked on her door and, in plain colloquial English, asked her if she wanted to come eat something.  We had a great dinner, let me tell you.  (Except that my good old friend, the bat, decided to dine with us again.  Ugh…he eventually flew outside and we shut the door.)  She is a DO (doctor of osteopathic medicine) from Ohio, and she is pioneering a new organization called Project Congo.  She told me her whole story of how she came to be involved in medical missions, something she never thought she'd do in her life.  

Basically she became very good friends with an American originally from Burundi who lived in her neighborhood back home.  He connected her with the Salesian priests who have a mission in Goma, where she is trying to firmly plant Project Congo.  The Salesians have a clinic for the children who live on-site with them, as well as the surrounding community.  But, they have little to no supplies.  So her goal is to bring medical supplies to this mission.  She brought out her laptop and showed me pictures of Goma – she called Rwanda "Africa Lite" because everything here is in pretty good shape compared to Goma.  I had no idea that Rwanda is one of the "less poor" African countries.  But from her pictures, its clear that she's right.  And she showed me lots of before and after-treatment pictures from the clinic – kids with cerebral malaria, different types of tuberculosis, and general malnutrition.  Some of them were incredible!  These kids must not have weighed 40 lbs, they were just skin and bones.  And after treatment they were healthily chubby.  But some of the pictures were not so inspiring because the lack of supplies made adequate treatment impossible, and the kids didn't make it. 

She told me a really great story about the hassles of shipping something to Goma.  She purchased an x-ray machine for the Salesians, and traveled to Goma herself to oversee its arrival.  This was the purpose for her current visit of 3 weeks.  (she's made three other brief trips in the past few years).  Well, the border crossings that are necessary are of course met with difficulties, often ones whose solutions are to pay the guards more money.  So apparently they were trying to charge her some ridiculous, unnecessary fees to get this x-ray machine into Congo.  They had to unload it out of the car so the guards could inspect it.  What they ended up doing was bribing a girl who worked at the border station to distract the guard.  Then the Salesians put it back in the car and drove off!  So thanks to the rule-bending of these priests, they now have an x-ray machine.  Good work. 

She wished me well in my future med school plans, and said that she hopes that I get in!  We talked a bit about DO schools, and I realized that I really wish I would have known more about them before I applied.  I did a tiny bit of research, but it seemed that a DO is pretty much the same as an MD but uses a whole different application system.  She told me that they do a lot more practical work caring for the whole person.  Example: acknowledging the differences between putting an IV into an adult vs. a child – not anatomical differences but emotional/social.  She said that in general, the MD's better step aside when it comes time to put an IV into a little kid because the DO's are just better trained at that kind of care.  If I don't get in to med school this time around I think I'll definitely pursue DO school.  She said that I'd almost certainly get into one of those because they really look at your well-roundedness, and an Africa experience would be very highly favored.  She said that if I ever needed a letter of recommendation from her, she'd be more than happy to write one.  

How cool!  

A day in the life of a Rwandan student

I've been thinking a lot about schools back home that have full libraries, overhead projectors, and go through tons of paper every day.  Really, American schools are excellent.  Here at our school (which is a pretty good one by African standards), students remain in one classroom all day, and the teachers rotate. 

These classrooms are plain and simple, just a blackboard, tables, and chairs.  No TV, no overhead, no posters on the walls, and no usage of workbooks/textbooks/worksheets.  Just the blackboard and the notebooks that the students bring.   The irony is that for young kids, when its so important to receive the kind of sensory stimulation found in most American classrooms (reading corners with beanbag chairs, brightly colored things on the walls, etc) they receive even less than the older kids who are past the age where these things really make a lasting mark.   I can't imagine a day in the life of your average pupil at the primary schools here.  They too stay in the same classroom all day.  They sit 3 or 4 to a desk, which are long-ish benches with attached tables and are very scratched and graffitti'd.  

The walls are not only barren but are filthy from water stains, the room is about the size of my bedroom, and it would not be unusual to find a bird flying back and forth to its nest inside the ceiling of the classroom (and therefore a bunch of bird poop on the floor).  Kids in primary school only come for half a day.  They rotate two groups of kids – some come for the morning session, some come for the afternoon, but the same teachers teach all day.  I can't imagine.  Also one thing that I've grown to appreciate deeper is school lunches.  We do not have a cafeteria at our school, I think most schools don't.  Since the primary school kids only stay half a day, they don't really need one.  But our students (secondary school students) study from 7:30am till 3:20pm.  They receive a 20 minute recreation period from 10:50am to 11:10am, in which they may bring a small snack.  Next week we will have small things for sale (bread, cakes/beignets, soda, tea).  Other than that, they don't eat anything.  I don't know how they stay focused!  Us too, we've been eating lunch around 2:30pm.  I've gotten used to it actually, its not so bad.  But I think it must be even harder for the students, who must sit in their desks and pay attention while their tummy is rumbling away!  At least for me I've been doing more active things where I don't notice my hunger that much.  I think to some degree the students are used to it too. 

I have been extremely inspired by the hard-working spirit of our students.  I seriously can't imagine sitting through 9 classes with only 20 minutes of free time.  The students often have a block of 2 to 4 classes with the same professor, same subject.  For the tailoring students (we have 2 options that students choose, tailoring/sewing and hotellerie (hospitality/tourism))  its not so bad because they actually do practical exercises, use the sewing machines, etc.  But the hotellerie kids have basically 9 lectures.  There's PE and music mixed in there though on certain days, I guess that's good.  

But another thing is that our teachers are good, but they're not great.  They're not captivating, nor are they skilled public speakers, nor do they incorporate lots of exciting, invigorating groupwork or discussion.  At least I don't think so.  And of course, they do not have access to overhead projectors, TV's, or visual aids to make the lesson more exciting.  I actually want to go observe some classes next week to just learn a thing or two about teaching methodology so that I can be a more effective teacher.  But from what I've seen as I walk by classrooms, it seems that most teachers just write stuff on the board, explain it, and the students copy it and listen.  A few of our teachers seem to be pretty animated and loud, but many of them are kind of soft-spoken and, truth be told, would lull me right to sleep if I had to listen to them for an hour.  Its not uncommon to see students slumping over in their desks.  But they do not fall asleep, they do not complain about their teachers, they do not resent the assignments they are given, nor do they claim that a given subject is pointless or stupid or boring.  

At the end of the first day, I asked one of the adult hotellerie students how her day was.  "Was it long?  Are you tired?"  She said "Yes it is tiring, but it is the only way."  The resilience and perseverance of these students in unlike anything I have ever seen.  

And they do this every day, Monday through Friday.  

Green Card Quest

Sr. Rose needed to renew her green card, and I needed to get one, so we drove together into town.  I've noticed that lines don't really exist here in Rwanda; people just wait in a bunch and kind of skip each other.  They sometimes make a fuss about it when somebody skips, but often they just seem to not care too much.  Even when I was at the RRA those two times in Kigali, there was a definite zigzag of people, but when you got up to the front, people would just go up to the window whenever they got the chance.  They were all ready to pounce, but only one at a time could succeed…dun dun duuuuun.  

So today Sr. Rose and I arrive at the Immigration office.  There are about 8 other people waiting in a clump outside the window.  There is no clear direction about who is waiting for what…there usually are no clear directions about where you should wait.  But there's one clump waiting at a window, and another waiting at a door.  Sr. Rose and I join the clump, craning our necks like everybody else to see inside.  Eventually she beckons to me to follow her, and she just waltzes right past everybody, into the office on the other side of the door.  She speaks to the guy at the desk, explains that she wants to renew and I want to get a green card.  He tells her to make a copy of her visa, and he gives me a form and tells me to go pay 5.000 at the RRA.  Then we go on our way.  So, that was easy, and we totally didn't wait in line.  Hm.  So we head into town to pay for a photocopy of Sr. Rose's visa.  We also need to get passport photos taken, but we did that a few days ago in town.  There are small photo shops here and there that do it for you really fast.  The place we went to was a tiny little place with a desk and a white sheet separating the "studio" from the "office."  The "studio" is just the corner of the room with a floodlamp tacked to the ceiling.  There are certainly no changeable backgrounds or anything, just white walls (actually quite dirty but mostly white).  For our photos, they just put us on a small stool in front of the desk, basically in the doorway of the place, facing outside.  

A lady stood behind us and held up a white blanket.  Then the guy took each of our pictures with a Polaroid instamatic camera.  And about 5 minutes later we had our photos.  2.000 RWF ($4 USD) bought me four photos.  Nice.  So anyways we went to make a photocopy, then to the RRA to pay.  Sr. Rose waited in the car while I went inside.  Good thing I've become more confident with doing these kinds of things, because it can be kind of intimidating to waltz into a place where there is no direction about where to go for this and that.  So I walk in and its just a big warehouse with about 6 tables with computers and guys helping people.  There's a small group of people sitting on randomly placed chairs, who all stare at me.  Well I head straight to the back where I see a guy whose not helping anyone.  I ask him if this is where I pay, and he tells me that I need to pay at Eco Bank.  Of course I need to pay at Eco Bank, silly me!  Why didn't I think of that?  So we go to Eco Bank.  This time Sr. Rose gets out and enters with me, and again there are some people waiting and there's one guy being helped by the teller.  So we wait in line behind the one guy.

After a few minutes though, Sr. Rose tells me to go sit and wait with the others while she goes to buy some potatoes.  So I wait for like 10 minutes and observe.  It seems that the people sitting with me have filled out some kind of form…how do I get one…let's see…soon a lady comes out from the back and speaks to the guy sitting next to me, obviously asking if I am with him.  Upon hearing no, she kindly asks me in French how she can help me.  So she gives me the form I need and tells me to present it to the teller.  So I do this, and soon I've got my receipt that I need to take back to the RRA.  So I march right back in there with my receipt, but this time the guy who I spoke to before is gone.  There's a new guy at a different table at the front, and he directs me to a table at the back.  There's one other person with an RRA slip also waiting to pay something, so I just stand by him.  I notice there's a guy not helping anybody, so I start going towards him.  But he immediately shakes his head and points to the guy next to him.  

Ok, so I wait.  The other customer is eventually served, and he kindly motions to me that I can come up now.  Its weird though because the teller is not finished helping him, so I'm just standing there while this guy is sitting there waiting for the teller to finish his receipt.  But this is totally how people wait since there are no lines.  When in Rome!  So I present my Eco Bank receipt, then receive my RRA receipt, then go back to the car with Sr. Rose to go back to Immigration.  But by this time its about 1pm, and we remembered from our previous attempt to get our green cards that they stop taking people at noon.  We go back there just to check, but they've already closed the door.  So we decide that I'll come back tomorrow with both of our things.  Sr. Rose needs to teach so its not possible for her to come.  So instead she's going to give me her passport and photocopies and photos and I'll present her documentation.  Wow, this would certainly not fly in the U.S.  When I asked her about how legal it is for me to be carrying her passport, she simply said that if they won't accept it, call her and she'll leave her class to themselves for a bit while she comes into town to do it herself.  Hm, ok.  Let's see what happens. 

An interesting observation on our way home…outside the prison there were a bunch of women carrying big, bright plastic baskets filled with bread and other food.  I asked Sr. Rose what they were all doing.  She explained that here the prisoners are not given food to eat.  They are dependent on their friends and family to feed them.  If they have no one to bring them food, they basically die of starvation.  They do community work, like fix roads, build stuff, etc.  Its not at all unusual to see a group of about 30 guys wearing bright orange or bright pink outfits, out on the town fixing up something.  And of course there are several armed guards not far away.  So I asked if they are still obligated to work if they don't receive food.  She said "Yes!  Of course!  And that's how they die of hunger."  But she also said that there is such a strong sense of solidarity between Africans in general, that there are not many starving prisoners.  If a prisoner has no living family members, there is often someone who knew their family or worked with so-and-so or has some kind of connection, and because of their good rapport with that person's family, they bring them food. 

            The next day I went into town by moto to drop off mine and Sr. Rose's documents for our green cards.  Again, there was no line, just a blob.  So I joined the blob.  I waited with everyone for about 15 minutes, and then one of the guys working behind the desk sees me and asks in French how he can help me.  I say that I need a green card, and he tells me to come into the office.  So I skip everyone else who had been waiting there long before me - booyah!  I give him my things, no problem.  Then I gingerly, carefully begin explaining Sr. Rose's case, that she is busy teaching and she sent me to give her documents.  He gave a little smile and said its no problem.  I can return in one hour to pick up both at the same time.  I was in disbelief at that…one hour?  "Today they will be ready?"  I asked.  He said yes, so I just went for a nice leisurely stroll by the lake for an hour.  And along the way I made another random friend, just like my bus buddies and Amiral.  This was a guy who was also at the immigration office and met up with me a short distance away.

        He was very nice, a few years out of university, in the process of applying for foreign exchange programs at European universities.  We had a really nice time talking about college, financial aid, and education in general.  It turns out he's a secondary school teacher now.  So he walked with me during that whole hour, and I was really happy to have spent it that way!  We exchanged numbers to stay in touch. 

Then I went back to immigration, waited with the blob for only 5 or so minutes before the guy who helped me earlier saw me.  He beckoned me into the office, I skipped everyone, and he gave me both our green cards.  No hassles whatsoever!  I thanked him and caught myself a moto on home.  When I told Sr. Rose about how I skipped everybody in line, she said it is a mark of politeness.  In general, it is normal to go out of your way to help a foreigner.  She said the guy at immigration wanted to make sure I felt welcome and at ease, and that's why he helped me before all the others who had been waiting longer.  She said its kind of an unspoken rule that those who are from here can wait; the strangers should be helped first.  

Hm, good customer service I guess!