It was the beginning of March and things got crazy. I was receiving daily phone calls from my Mom about the shelter in place in California and I couldn’t help but feel lucky to be isolated from the American chaos.
Things changed quickly. In the second week of March, I received an email from Peace Corps that all volunteers worldwide were evacuating. At first, I was shocked that this was actually happening, but then my shock dissipated into disappointment. Honestly, I wasn’t very sad about leaving Peace Corps prematurely. In fact, I had seriously considered it before. Don’t get me wrong, I loved what I was doing, where I was working, and who I was working with. The problem wasn’t my job or my community, the problem was with Peace Corps itself. The organization has a way of making you feel like you’re living in a prison of emotional guilt that you can’t escape, no matter how hard you work and how much you dedicate yourself to the Peace Corps mission.
I was disappointed in the sudden evacuation announcement because Peace Corps had failed in its goal to provide sustainable development in a different, more effective way than other aid organizations. Volunteers around the world were dedicated to their communities, their projects, and their coworkers, and were torn away from a commitment they had previously sworn to. It was a clear show of privilege and a reminder that Peace Corps volunteers cannot be fully dedicated to the communities they serve in the way Peace Corps claims they are.
This is an unpopular opinion among the international aid sector, but my opinion nonetheless.
Anyways, the purpose of this blog post isn’t to criticize Peace Corps, but rather the experience of enduring COVID while in Rwanda.
Jacob and I both agree that the world underestimated the stamina, grit, and willpower that African countries have when addressing crises. In Rwanda, the institutions already in place to fight a potential Ebola outbreak were prepared to deal with an alternative virus. As soon as Rwanda had its first official case the whole country was on lockdown. The airport closed and crossing from district to district was no longer permitted. While I started going crazy from staying inside 24/7, I still felt safer enduring the pandemic in Rwanda than in America where weaponized, intimidating citizens refused to follow the basic precautions to stop the spread of the virus.
Rwanda was calm. It was so eerily quiet to look out at a usually bustling road that now was completely empty. People were getting restless, but everyone was listening to decisions made by the Ministry of Health and the Rwandan Government. Despite the togetherness of the country, white people from “western” countries were announcing their concern for Africa (as though Africa is one single place, lol) and their ability to withstand a COVID outbreak. I heard countless people from the US and European countries, even some who work for Peace Corps, warn against potential rioting and looting in the Kigali streets. Once again, African countries were portrayed as helpless and in need of international to endure a pandemic on their own. In this situation, it was quite the opposite.
Many countries throughout the continent were uniquely equipped to deal with the pandemic due to the previously developed infrastructure for handling outbreaks. America, on the other hand, not so much.
While the pandemic here in Rwanda is far from over, things have relatively returned to normal. Jacob and I can go out to restaurants and cafes and walk the dogs as long as we social distance, wear masks, and are back inside by 8 pm. COVID and the Peace Corps evacuation turned my life upside down for a couple months, but as I start to get job offers and I don’t feel Peace Corps breathing down my neck anymore, I am grateful for this new path that the COVID chaos has led me down.