Musekeweya

Escapist stories. This is what I told Hannah and Cindi on the way to the airport, leaving Kigali, and Rwanda for probably a long while. I also told them this might be the most cheesy-sentimental I’ve felt, probably ever, and probably the most called for. Anyway, a movie marathon is what it is, the escapist stories I mean. La La Land is playing right now, providing a really bittersweet melancholic melody, in piano-heavy jazz. I’m also trying to beat jet lag as quickly as possible (and also, procrastinating on writing all the feelings I have about the program I’ve finished. Oh! Intense fighting started, good dialogue.

I felt like escapism resets the perspective, it helps you skip the sadness toward the gladness that you’ve participated, ‘done the thing’, it reminds you of the greater, yet unfamiliar (to you) world out there.

It’s been close to a week now. An overdue time to reflect after some initial reunion ecstasies. I’ve had flashbacks in fits and starts a few times now, and I’ve been taking every appropriate opportunity to share, as planned. So far, it was Conor that I shared the most with, but more abstract politics, whereas I don’t know where to begin with my host family and friends and just wholesome everyday life. And yes, people aren’t thatttt interested really, outside of some big picture summaries, as expected. I don't hold any grudges against that though, i'ts something understandable and something I probably would have done myself. Plus, people are often I think more interested in your experience rather than the information I want to share, because while the former is personally important and I guess more accessible to others, what I really wish is for people to know more about Rwanda, and to give it a shot. I find myself, I think, thinking about Rwanda sometimes a bit too much like Singapore when it is not.

It's been a few days since I uploaded my photos of Rwanda, in some ways kind of rushed and forced, because I really didn't know what to say. I didn't really think I had the patience to deal with people like Nico, who while jokingly didn't even know 'where in Africa' I went, in some ways also speaks to a larger problem, because I'm sure he would have remembered if I had mentioned going to South Korea.

As with all posts that take longer than a week to write, it's probably time to let it go to rest. I've had really not much respite and time to reflect over my time in Rwanda, sitting here so far away... on no coffee day no less. But I suspect that Rwanda will be in my memories for a blog post years to come, as did JLOC, or London before it. Musekeweya means New Dawn, something that Rwanda has embraced and I must learn.