Mi Querida Familia,
I realize this letter is late for Thanksgiving, but I don’t think it’s ever too late to be thankful. I can’t believe over a year has passed since I wrote my last Thanksgiving letter. I’ve been away for the changing of four seasons, for birthdays, for family dinners, and time around the living room fire. But I’ve been ‘here’ (Niger, Morocco, South Africa, and Rwanda) for sun and rain, for births and naming ceremonies, weddings, and dinners with families that have invited me in as if I were their own. Like I said last year, time is a bizarre
concept.
Rwanda is a beautiful country, but as many of my phone calls and emails have shown, it’s not an easy country to live or work in. I’m not sure if it was the original excitement of being in Africa and joining Peace Corps, or if Niger just was that special—but reading over the letter I sent last year I have re-realized how much I have to be thankful for.
Of course right now, I am thinking mostly of Abuelo. I am so, so thankful for the time I had with him. There aren’t words to describe his mischievous smile, his whole hearted laugh, his deep and confident voice, or his affection. My heart aches that from now on I will only experience those in my memory, but I am forever thankful that those memories are many.
This year, I am also especially thankful for:
Rain. There is nothing more calming or cleansing than a good rainstorm. After a good rain, you can feel the difference. Rain is also hilarious. I challenge anyone to be caught in a rainstorm and not laugh hysterically, at least for a few seconds.
Avocados. In Rwanda, avocados are cheap, easily accessible, and delicious. When I start to think about the Western comforts I’m missing out on, I eat an avocado and realize that you can find delicious special treats everywhere in the world.
Latrines. I know last year I told you to be thankful for seated toilets, and I stand by that statement. But this year, I am thankful for pit latrines. Because when your plumbing system is questionable, it’s better to have a pit latrine than a broken toilet.
My neighbors. Because they have accepted this strange, young white girl as one of their own. In particular, I am thankful for my eldest neighbor Donatille, who gives me the smile of a thirteen year old girl when I complement her outfits; and Jaques, the four year old who runs to hug me at the beginning and end of each day, and reminds me why I wanted this job in the first place.
My access to healthcare. E-coli, giardia, and root canals, aside, I’ve been incredibly blessed with good health this year. When I have needed medical attention, the attention I’ve received has been world class. I
am painfully aware of how much this sets me apart from my neighbors here in Rwanda, but also in the United States. I cannot be thankful enough for this.
My friends and family. I think about you every day. Last year, I really thought my appreciation could go no further, but I was wrong. Being in a country where so many have lost their closest friends and family members, and as a result have shut down and let no one new in, I am thankful every second, for the love, trust, and care I receive from my friends and family spread out across the entire globe.
So I’m not really sure if this year you’ll be all together when you read this letter or if it will just be on individual computer screens in Carlisle, New York City, and Ithaca… but I’m pretty sure Cristina and Mama are still crying a bit, so again I have what is intended to be comic relief—
Things you should be thankful for because I cannot be:
Oreo Cookies. Do not ask me why or how, but I crave them every day, and I am so jealous that you can drive to any store you want and buy a box (or send me one, hint hint).
Cement Sidewalks and Roads. Now I am very thankful for the rain, but I am not thankful for what it does to the mud roads and paths I walk on. Be thankful that you do not need indoor and outdoor shoes to (try to)
keep mud out of the house.
Fast Internet. I cannot wait until the day I can upload my Gmail without having to use HTML version, and know it will work.
Donuts. I think I’ve said this before, but the fried dough here really doesn’t cut it. Dad, I am counting on you to go to GIANT after reading this email and buy a chocolate donut. Mama, please don’t stop him.
Weather.com I’m glad being a weather woman or meteorologist was never a career aspiration of mine, because I suck at predicting the weather.
Sorry this letter is late, but I hope I was able to bring back some Thanksgiving spirit. I love, miss, and think of you all the time.
Besos,
Alma
I realize this letter is late for Thanksgiving, but I don’t think it’s ever too late to be thankful. I can’t believe over a year has passed since I wrote my last Thanksgiving letter. I’ve been away for the changing of four seasons, for birthdays, for family dinners, and time around the living room fire. But I’ve been ‘here’ (Niger, Morocco, South Africa, and Rwanda) for sun and rain, for births and naming ceremonies, weddings, and dinners with families that have invited me in as if I were their own. Like I said last year, time is a bizarre
concept.
Rwanda is a beautiful country, but as many of my phone calls and emails have shown, it’s not an easy country to live or work in. I’m not sure if it was the original excitement of being in Africa and joining Peace Corps, or if Niger just was that special—but reading over the letter I sent last year I have re-realized how much I have to be thankful for.
Of course right now, I am thinking mostly of Abuelo. I am so, so thankful for the time I had with him. There aren’t words to describe his mischievous smile, his whole hearted laugh, his deep and confident voice, or his affection. My heart aches that from now on I will only experience those in my memory, but I am forever thankful that those memories are many.
 |
| Abuelo |
This year, I am also especially thankful for:
Rain. There is nothing more calming or cleansing than a good rainstorm. After a good rain, you can feel the difference. Rain is also hilarious. I challenge anyone to be caught in a rainstorm and not laugh hysterically, at least for a few seconds.
Avocados. In Rwanda, avocados are cheap, easily accessible, and delicious. When I start to think about the Western comforts I’m missing out on, I eat an avocado and realize that you can find delicious special treats everywhere in the world.
Latrines. I know last year I told you to be thankful for seated toilets, and I stand by that statement. But this year, I am thankful for pit latrines. Because when your plumbing system is questionable, it’s better to have a pit latrine than a broken toilet.
My neighbors. Because they have accepted this strange, young white girl as one of their own. In particular, I am thankful for my eldest neighbor Donatille, who gives me the smile of a thirteen year old girl when I complement her outfits; and Jaques, the four year old who runs to hug me at the beginning and end of each day, and reminds me why I wanted this job in the first place.
My access to healthcare. E-coli, giardia, and root canals, aside, I’ve been incredibly blessed with good health this year. When I have needed medical attention, the attention I’ve received has been world class. I
am painfully aware of how much this sets me apart from my neighbors here in Rwanda, but also in the United States. I cannot be thankful enough for this.
My friends and family. I think about you every day. Last year, I really thought my appreciation could go no further, but I was wrong. Being in a country where so many have lost their closest friends and family members, and as a result have shut down and let no one new in, I am thankful every second, for the love, trust, and care I receive from my friends and family spread out across the entire globe.
So I’m not really sure if this year you’ll be all together when you read this letter or if it will just be on individual computer screens in Carlisle, New York City, and Ithaca… but I’m pretty sure Cristina and Mama are still crying a bit, so again I have what is intended to be comic relief—
Things you should be thankful for because I cannot be:
Oreo Cookies. Do not ask me why or how, but I crave them every day, and I am so jealous that you can drive to any store you want and buy a box (or send me one, hint hint).
Cement Sidewalks and Roads. Now I am very thankful for the rain, but I am not thankful for what it does to the mud roads and paths I walk on. Be thankful that you do not need indoor and outdoor shoes to (try to)
keep mud out of the house.
Fast Internet. I cannot wait until the day I can upload my Gmail without having to use HTML version, and know it will work.
Donuts. I think I’ve said this before, but the fried dough here really doesn’t cut it. Dad, I am counting on you to go to GIANT after reading this email and buy a chocolate donut. Mama, please don’t stop him.
Weather.com I’m glad being a weather woman or meteorologist was never a career aspiration of mine, because I suck at predicting the weather.
Sorry this letter is late, but I hope I was able to bring back some Thanksgiving spirit. I love, miss, and think of you all the time.
Besos,
Alma
