A brief poem written from the mingled joy and sadness I feel when I think about Rwanda and specifically about speaking the national language, Kinyarwanda. It was often a struggle, occasionally a triumph, and always a privilege. To be an American of African descent without a connection to my ancestors’ language, learning an African language was especially meaningful and I miss being able to do so every day.
Read MoreThis is the first piece of poetry that I am publishing on my blog. It is the culmination of years of pent up thoughts and emotions that finally demanded to be expressed. It is a lament, a resolution, a reckoning, and a battle cry.
Read MoreEven as the first Peace Corps volunteers were being sent abroad in 1961 to work in the newly independent African nations of Ghana and Tanzania, African-Americans were still waiting for our own second wave of independence at home. Now, nearly sixty years since the Peace Corps was founded, Black Americans have increasingly been among the cohorts of volunteers who go overseas to represent our country around the world, a task as exciting as it is daunting especially when we serve in African countries.
Read MoreI feel as though I have learned so much more than I have taught. I know, I know. I can hardly keep from rolling my eyes myself. But friends, it’s true. This post delves into a few of the many ways my experience living and working in Rwanda have impacted my life.
Read More“Hi, My name is Joe
And I work in a button factory
One day, my boss came up to me
and said: “Joe, push the button with your right hand””
Before beginning my service, I had a conversation with one of my aunts who is an educator in Los Angeles. I vaguely remember discussing the challenges of teaching but I definitely didn’t fully grasp the weight of that reality. So, now, nine months into my teaching career, I am happy to report that teaching... is really hard. Really, really hard.
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