my Kwita Izina

6 december 2009

Nibeza Umunezero Nicole

Beautiful Happiness Nicole

Back under that mosquito net again. The power just went out - this hasn't happened for a couple of weeks, at least not that I've noticed - but I'm grateful for the protection of the net as I know the light from my screen would draw in swarms of flying critters otherwise.

Bethel, another trainee, and I just got back from mama wanjye's home. [ah, the generator just kicked on] I saw my host family at church this morning. I got a later start today than my 6 o'clock wake-up last weekend (my internal alarm goes off around 6:15 every day, regardless of whether or not I'd like to sleep 'til noon...) so a few of us trainees went and found a few empty spots besides one of our LCFs, arriving just as mass was about to begin.

Mid-service my curiosity snook up on me and told me to take a look around. I felt slightly guilty for not going to my host family's place to walk to church with them this morning and I wanted to see if they'd shown up or not. Right over my shoulder, just a couple of pews back there were 3 handsome little boys. Aligned tallest to shortest, they were all dressed in crisp, white button down shirts and black slacks. Each looking like a larger or smaller version of the others, a smile light up my face as I recognized these little gentlemen; my brothers - Robert, 9 - Gibert, 7 and Moise, 5. I was so proud, Robert and I made eye contact and he returned my smile. (You know, I have to wonder what these 3 young boys think of me, of the entire situation. Who on Earth is this white girl who has shown up out of nowhere, where is she from, what is she doing here and why does she come over for a couple hours every Sunday? I grew up in a family where it was common to host international students, but then again, it's not unusual to come across foreigners in the States. Here I am though, the only blonde in the crowd of hundreds, all gathered together as one under the steeple.)

I met up with mama and the boys once mass was over and Assinath, our LCF, helped to translate so that I could make plans to visit this afternoon. Mama wanjye had told me last weekend that she wanted to have a Kwita Izina, a naming ceremony, for me this Sunday - I thought that would be wonderful as long as she didn't decide to name me Kayitesi - spoiled girl, but honestly I was a little nervous as to what all a "naming ceremony" would entail. Assinath could not fill in the missing details saying that it all depended on the family.

We parted ways with only a rough outline - I would go to their house this afternoon, there would be a Kwita Izina. This is the same family, remember, who took me to the dance school to see a 20+ minute long recital when I expressed my wishes to learn traditional Rwandan dance - so I really didn't know what to expect.

Around 3 o'clock I decided it was probably about time to head over. I jokingly invited my friend and roommate, Bethel, to come along to my Kwita Izina - expecting her to say no, but she took me by surprise and said she'd actually really like to go. Since I was unsure as to how all the afternoon would unfold, I figured that I ought to call ahead and make sure it was alright for me to bring a friend:

"nshobora kuzana ninshuti yanjye mu rugo?"

"yego"

"awesome"

I packed up my bag, ipod & speakers (music is always a fun thing to share), digital camera (what if they dressed me up or something??), water bottle - always a good idea to have safe drinking water on ya, and we were on our way.

Arriving at mama wanjye's home, having come across her in town, we were greeted by the boys, Diane and a couple others I'd never met before. Diane was busy in the kitchen cooking with the help of the others who appeared to be of about the same age. [Diane is 18 years old. From what I understand, Cecile adopted Diane, her brother's daughter, when he was killed in the 1994 genocide. Here, children are raised calling both their mother - as well as all of their aunts "Mama", and their father - as well as all of their uncles "Papa" because incase of the death of a parent (or parents - as is often the case thanks to HIV/AIDS), the children are not left abandoned, but rather they are warmly welcomed, adopted into an aunt or uncle's family. Family is very important here and is not limited only to birth parents and children, it includes neighbors, distant relatives and the elderly. Shoot, it's even flexible to the point that it incorporates our group of 30+ Americans. Let me tell ya, every time my host mother introduces me - a freckle faced/blue eyed American to others as "mwana wanjye" (my child), it nearly brings tears to my eyes, eyes that set me apart, eyes that spill all the secrets of my heart.] Bethel and I went inside where Robert and Tuyisenge (a 15 year old) joined us. Apparently there was still some cooking that needed to be done before the Kwita Izina, we passed the time fiddling through my ipod, trying to find songs to keep us entertained.

Bethel and I tried to teach Robert the "crank that" Soulja Boy dance but found that neither of us knew the steps beyond the first 20 seconds of the song. Apparently KP brought out the best of me because the impromptu "Thriller" I tried to do this afternoon couldn't even compare to the moves I busted this summer at camp .. so, the dancing was a flop, and one by one, children began to arrive. I taught them and we played a couple rounds of "telephone" - when a good dozen or so kids were present along with a woman mama introduced as her friend, it kinda hit me that this Kwita Izina was a big deal for them. It seemed like half the village was gathered there in the living-room.

Mama brought out a notebook and gave instructions in Kinyarwanda. Around the room, passing through all of the tiny hands, it began to travel. Bethel and I both guessed that she was having each child suggest a name for me, from which she would pick the one that suits me best. It was really adorable how much effort she put into keeping the open-faced page of the notepad out of my line of sight. It felt like when you know someone is putting in so much love and effort into making something extra special for you, and it's taking place at the kitchen table, which you are forced to walk by time and time again to get to the fridge, but you pretend to be distracted by some serious hunger pains or a good song on the radio, so distracted that you "don't even notice" what's going on there at the kitchen table, right before your eyes. I played along with their game, not that I would be able to understand anything written on the lines of their notebook page anyway.

Eventually Diane brought in bowls full of rice, potatoes, greens and the small, bitter eggplants covered in some kind of sauce. I knew she was busy cooking all afternoon, but I guess I didn't realize that that was actually for me. Sounds silly to say now, but I'd never had a meal at my host family's before, so this was a pleasant surprise. All of us adults got our own plates but the abanas were gathered into two circles, half a dozen or so in each, on a mat on the floor. A large platter of food was brought in for each circle. While we had forks, the kids were left to use their hands - making the meal one big messy adventure for them.

After the plates had been cleared away, cups of the most delicious-what must have been tea/coffee/milk & a whole lot of sweetness-blend were poured. The kids went out to play and then Mama announced it:

Nibeza Umunezero Nicole.

Beautiful Happiness Nicole

I couldn't imagine a better name. I felt so accepted, special, loved. Mama was very glad to see me so happy with my new name, Tuyisenge translated for me saying that she wished her husband could have been there for my Kwita Izina - he has been in the hospital since we arrived (and who knows how long before) here in Nyanza. He has some kind of neck problem, but none of us have the language skills to explain or understand.

I was curious as to what all of the children had suggested. Mama gave me the list, other ideas included:

nigena - god's plan

igiraheze - god did well

umukunzi - a friend

tuyishime - happy, thanks be to god

umurerwa - polite, very intelligent

umuheza - someone you go to for comfort

uwamahoro - peaceful

Talk about a boost to your self-esteem. The names, the words are wonderful - but I found that their actions, the fact that nearly 20 people gathered to celebrate a Kwita Izina for an American, that a delicious meal was prepared, that they presented me with a big, beautiful card full of kindness in both Kinyarwanda and English - man, that just speaks wonders for the goodness and generosity in their hearts.

I hope to find a way to print a couple of pictures of her family to give Mama wanjye, I think that would be a really special way to repay the warmth they have shown me.

It was a great day in my world here in Rwanda.

Amohoro.