It was on a Sunday morning when I was finally sent to the site where I would live and work. We boarded the bus quietly but with excitement, each of us carrying our bags and our hopes. As the bus moved forward, I kept looking out the window, wondering what my new home would look like and what kind of people I would meet during my service with CorpsAfrica Rwanda.
When we reached Akamahinda, the bus stopped near a dusty road. I stepped down and looked around. The village felt calm and welcoming, with small paths and homes spread across the area. What caught my attention immediately was a woman standing by the roadside. She was my host mother, waiting for me with a warm smile that made it feel as though we had known each other for years.
I walked toward her and greeted her. She hugged me warmly, and in that moment, much of my fear melted away. Even though we had never met before, her kindness made me feel safe. She led me toward her home as my fellow volunteers assisted me by carrying my bags. As we approached the house, my host father came out to welcome me, smiling warmly. I instantly felt grateful to be joining a family that was so open and caring.
Inside the house, they had prepared Fanta and mandazi for me, a simple but meaningful welcome. I sat on a small bench, and we began to talk. I shared my story, where I came from, my studies, and my motivation to volunteer. In return, they told me about their family, their work, and daily life in the village. The conversation flowed naturally, easing my nerves.
Although the welcome was kind, adjusting was not easy. Everything felt new, from the language accents and food to the house and the quiet nights. Still, the effort my host family made to ensure I felt comfortable touched my heart deeply. They treated me like a daughter rather than a visitor, which made the transition gentler.
As the day went on, I met neighbors who came by to see the new volunteer. Children approached shyly at first, then smiled widely once they felt comfortable. My host mother showed me the kitchen and the room where I would sleep. She explained how things worked in the household, step by step, making sure I understood and felt at ease.
That first Sunday taught me an important lesson. Belonging does not happen in a single day. It grows slowly through kindness, conversations, shared meals, and simple acts of care. These small moments are what shape a meaningful service experience.
I went to bed that night feeling tired but grateful. The room was unfamiliar, and the sounds outside were different from what I was used to. Still, I closed my eyes knowing that I was welcomed, cared for, and already beginning to feel part of a new community. That day marked the true beginning of my journey in Akamahinda.
