Lonely bus ride home 3/22/10

Yes the people are wonderful and yes life is life here but the truth is I want to go home. I just got home from town. It was a wonderful trip to town. The internet was working really well and my mom was online. We chatted for probably an hour and a half. It was the first time that we haven’t been pressed for time. We chatted like when I was back at home. Leaving the connection was so hard. The sun began to drop in the sky and because I was alone I knew I needed to get to the bus before dusk. The whole time in town you have to have your game face on. There is a bus face and a market face. Bus face is the stoic silent look that you put on when you are riding the bus. The market face is more serious and your walk is faster. It tells people that I’m on my way somewhere and I don’t want you to try anything. I made it to the bus but the bus I wanted to get on was full. I walked back to the second bus and got on. The men outside began to yell at one another. I hate it when they do that. I have no idea what they are arguing about and don’t know what is going to happen. Some people on the bus began to exit but I wasn’t in a mood to find another bus. A sweet faced girl about my age got on next to me. She seemed so friendly I waned to ask her about her day and where she went to school. I managed what I could. She kept looking at me like she had something to say but it was followed by a sorrowful look, the “oh you can’t understand me” look. I hate that look. The girls behind me, defiantly in high school were chattering away. I laid my head back and one touched my hair. I could tell by their word choice that they were discussing my hair. Then she began to play with it. I completely ignored it. I love it when people play with my hair. I felt like I was back at home. I wanted to sit up straighter so that she would play with it more but I thought she might stop. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it. When we finally began to drive off there were many remarks and pointing at me. This is normal but I wasn’t in the mood. After a while the high school girl next to the one touching my hair grabbed my head and I’m sure her words were, “don’t you feel her playing with your hair.” The girl sitting next to me looked at me like she felt bad for me. Another comment from outside the window. The girl next to me couldn’t take it; she shook her head and looked away. I wanted to text my mom and tell her about the situation but I couldn’t. I began to cry but I couldn’t let the tears fall. This is Burundi and no one cries. When I got off the bus a lady in a car was looking at me with a gentle face. She asked me in English if I was going to Hope Africa and then told me that she would love to drive me there. I was all in the sooner I got back to campus the better. She explained that she was a 4th year student studying theology. She told me that she saw me at church on Sunday. I hate it that only within this HAU community can I understand people. I knew that was going to be hard coming to Burundi but wow. I entered my empty apartment and let the tears flow. I miss my family so much. It is too hard.
Wow God has perfect timing. There was just a knock on the door. La Charity, who is taking care of all visiting professors, came by. This is the second time she has seen me cry over missing home. She explained to me some things that I was frustrated about culturally. She also told me that I needed to be busier. I totally agree. I told her my idea for going and visiting elementary schools with my students and she said we could talk about it after Kenya. I could see that there was something culturally wrong but that is a discussion for another day. I’m glad that she sees that I need to have more to do. She loves seeing pictures and I just put up lots in my room. I showed them to her and explained them. It was nice to tell her about home. Not so bad. She came by to share with me about my flight to Kenya. (Thank you to all of those who prayed everything is in and I can go!) What a blessing she is. Because she works with so many white people I feel comfortable to ask about culture and to break cultural norms with her. Thank you Lord for La Charity.
My tears are almost dry and I need to pack. As hard as it is to chat with people I miss I wouldn’t trade that precious time for anything.