The Quest for the Iposita

A couple notes:

            Sorry for the inconsistency with the blog posts. I am now going to try and post weekly,
         every Saturday. Stay tuned!

 I have this crazy idea of making a world map mural in my backyard. Being on a Peace Corps Volunteer budget I can’t really afford to do this on my own, therefore I want to apply for a grant. Unfortunately I am not able to research this thoroughly. If you have any information on this topic, and could send it my way that’d be greatly appreciated. Thanks! cgibbons00@gmail.com

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The Quest for the Iposita

Note: This is not the Iposita we were in search of. The Iposita I go to looks NOTHING like this. This is the Iposita in Kigali. 

Iposita = Post office (ee-po-sita)

A few weeks ago it was my birthday, and had heard from some friends and family that I had packages waiting for me at my new address. Also, I had heard from my Godparents that a video was made and put on a USB for me. This is probably the thing I am most excited about.

So Saturday, the 4^th  (two days before my bday), Rachel, Beth (other PCV’s) and I decided to take an adventure to the Iposita. Rachel lives north of me, Beth lives somewhere around me (not sure, direction is unclear, about an hour moto ride though.)  

Rwamagana is the nearest town with a post office, it is also where our bank is.

The trip is a two-hour bus ride from Nygatare, Nygatare is about a thirty minute Moto ride from my site. It is very similar to the distance between my house and Grand Central in New York. It is quite the trek, and far less comfortable than Metro North Train Station.

I arrived in Nygatare, and found out the next bus was leaving at 9:30. It was now 8 am. Rachel met me in Nygatare, and we chilled and ate a Rwandan breakfast. Tea and Chapatti (cha-pah-tee). This Chapatti was particularly terrible, but Chaptti is usually very good. It is dough they put in a frying pan with oil, and fry till it’s fluffy. Yum.

The bus we were on was going to Kigali, but the bus driver had told us Rwamagana was on the way and it was no problem to drop us off there for us. So when we arrived in Rwamagana the bus driver, and the majority of the passengers turned around, looked at us, and said:  “Abazungus!” This is the plural from of Muzungus, which is the term they use for white people. It was a cute and endearing moment, and I was grateful the entire bus let us know when to get off.

We got off, thanked the bus driver, and headed in a direction that felt right. Turns out that direction was right! Our first priority was the bank, we can’t do much without money after all. We started walking down one street, and within five minutes we spotted the BCR. Our bank. Found the ATM and got money. The whole process took about five minutes.

I want to break from the Quest of the Iposita to tell you how incredible this is. This is extremely unusual. Nothing in Rwanda ever goes this smoothly. It was almost like we were in America. Furthermore, the first time Peace Corps gave us our smart cards (ATM cards), there wasn’t enough money in my account. Someone made a mistake somewhere and left out a zero. Minor panic attack, as I realized that I would not be able to get the stuff I needed for site. Long story short, everything got fixed. It took an entire day, but hey, that’s how it goes in Rwanda.

So when everything went perfectly I was a little stunned. A whole new type of culture shock set in. Everything was going so well. How could this be?

After doing a bit a shopping and eating it was time to find the Iposita. The only thing I knew about this Iposita was that it looks like you are walking out of town. We headed the opposite direction of the bank. Things slowly changed. There were less buildings, more trees. Sidewalks became non-existent. It did indeed look like we were walking out of town. We continued on this path for about ten minutes.

There are two very frustrating things that get on my last nerve, and have completely tested my limits here. 

1.     The inability to find anything.

I consider myself good with directions. I’ve navigated through New York and London by myself countless times. Sure I get lost here and there, but I usually figure it out. There is a slight difference between New York, London, and Rwanda. Both New York and London have street signs, and they both offer maps. I can read maps, I am good at reading maps. But, I have yet to find a map that is not just a map of Rwanda. The entire country. This is zero help when trying to navigate in the town of Rwamagana. The people who live here have lived here their entire lives, so maps don’t exist. No one needs them. I have a hard time with this, I want maps, or street signs, or something that lets me know where I am!  

2.     Mail is non-existent.

 While I’ve tried to explain this to my Mom a couple times, I think it’s a hard concept for someone whose never visited a third world country. They don’t have mail here. There are no mailboxes, they don’t write letters or receive them, and there are very few places with the equivalent t to P.O. boxes. “But what about their bills?” my Mom would say. Those don’t exist either. I don’t know anyone who has running water, and very few have electricity. The electricity works like the phone system, pay as you go. You fill a meter with money credit and then you are good till it runs out. They don’t need bills. There are no advertisements to be sent out either. Very few can afford to advertise in that way, and no one can afford to buy things that aren’t necessary anyway. And there are no letters because everyone you know lives in walking distance. My host family’s family all lived on the same street.

So when I would ask: “Iposita ni hehe?” (where is the Iposita). They don’t know what I am talking about because they don’t use the Iposita or need one. There are not even words for mail in the Kinyarwanda language. Again, these are the most frustrating things I have encountered.

I am fine with asking for directions, I have had positive experiences in the past asking for directions, they even taught us in language class how to properly ask for directions. But let me tell you, asking directions for the Iposita will get you nowhere in Rwanda. Two things happen: A. They have no idea what you are talking about. B. They lie to you because they want to be seen talking to the Abazungus and give you incorrect directions.

I gave in, called Markey (site mate) and asked her for directions. She had been very busy and I was trying to be an independent (not annoying) site mate. From what I gathered we needed to turn around.

So turn around we did, and we kept going until we found the liquor store. In Rwanda it is not culturally appropriate for women to drink. This is debatable, but while I am new to my community, I am erring on the side of caution, and feeling out the whole woman-who-drinks thing. I am already weird enough to my neighbors and coworkers. Likewise, there is alcohol in Nygatare, but many of my coworkers live in Nygatare and I don’t want to risk being seen buying alcohol. So we buy it in far away places and sneak it into our houses.

While stocking up, an almost absurd thing happened. Three other abazungus walked into the liquor store. Whenever I see other white people (outside of Kigali) that are not PCV’s I find myself thinking in my head “what are you doing here?” and I get very awkward about interacting with them. Yes, there are other white people in Rwanda besides PCV’s.

Beth quickly pointed out that they were clearly not from Peace Corps. “They didn’t even try to speak Kinyarwanda,” she remarked. Keen and wise observation Beth.

I approached them. Asked them if they knew of a post office in the area, and if they could give us directions.

Brown haired girl responds: “Um, I’ve been living in Kigali for three months now. There are no post offices in Rwanda besides Kigali.”

She should have added “duh” at the end. It sounded like she wanted to.

“Um, well my site mate, from Peace Corps, has been living in Rwanda for a year and nine months now, and has been using this post office the ENTIRE time.” Which is what I wanted to say, but was overwhelmed by her witchy-ness (the word I want to use rhymes with a b but I am leaving it out for younger readers). And so I said, “Thanks anyway.”

I now understand why most countries do not like Americans. I was overwhelmed by their rudeness, towards me, and the shop owner, and disgusted by it.    

We continued in the other direction. Again things got scarce, it looked like we were going out of town, and I just wanted to know if this direction was the right direction. Suddenly, we happened on many official looking buildings. Government buildings. Could this be it?! They were on a side street cascading down a large hill. We started our descend. Rachel said something along the effect of “before we descend this massive hill lets stop and think about this before we have to climb our way back up.” Well played, Rachel, well played.

We pondered, then Rachel said again: “does that sign say Iposita over there?” Sure enough, a little ways up the hill and to the left was a well-hidden blue and yellow sign saying Iposita. I screamed, clapped and jumped in excitement. Beth definitely thought in her head “who is this girl!?” And we made our way towards the Iposita.

Mission accomplished (almost).

The Iposita is in a large marble white building with tinted black windows. It looks like a Rwandan strip mall, that’s how Markey described it, but I don’t know any buildings in America that I’d compare it too. If it weren’t for the maintenance man cleaning the building I don’t know if we would have found it after all that.

The Iposita is in the back of the building, it is very small, and you have to go down two flights of outdoor stairs to get to it.

Of course, when we got there it was closed. How American of me to think a Rwandan post office would be open on Saturday. Silly American girl, tricks are for kids. So I did not get my package, but hey at least I know where it is now, and can b line it there next time.