24/7 boob tube, an unexpected cultural norm

There are few places I ever thought could possibly outdo the good ol’ U.S.A. in television consumption. I mean I’m practically a slave to the weekly schedule of The Bachelor, Netflix binges and Twilight Saga marathons via Hulu, but even I would still consider my screen-time as below average. Rwandans however, are surprisingly giving me a run for my American glory.

Before beginning our homestays, our orientation leaders prepared us for how much TV we’d be subjected to in the average Rwandan home.

“Sometimes they won’t even being watching it really, it’s just on in the background,” warned Celine, our program director.

Maybe I didn’t believe it enough or perhaps wanted to give such a green country the benefit of the doubt––either way, I’ve come to learn that the TV is a staple in most Rwandan homes from sunup to long past sundown.

Our TV is pretty average-sized, maybe 30-35 inches wide (perhaps above average as it’s more of a flat-screen than the chunky dinosaur ones from 2005 still sold in Kigali shopfronts). As soon as you enter the house, the TV is the first thing you see; intentionally central location? I think yes. It’s situated in front of a large, gray, sectional couch, with a good view from every sitting position.

The most perplexing aspect of watching T.V. here, is that most of the time, it doesn’t actually matter what’s playing. At home, I can usually think of at least three more productive things to do when there’s nothing “good” on, but here it’s a little different. Content seems to always come second the sheer act of just watching a show... be it any show. I know this because my family, who speaks a very small amount of English aside from my host dad, will happily sit, eyes glued to soap operas in French, English, Kinyarwanda, and dubbed Spanish alike, (all without subtitles) with the same level of engagement for each.

Starting at seven in the morning, the T.V. goes on, usually outsetting with a rerun of Itetero, the only locally produced children’s network in Kinyarwanda. The kids’ cartoons are personally my favorite. My level of Kinywarwanda proficiency is on-par with my one- and two-year-old brothers’, making the basic songs about hand-washing, teeth-brushing and counting to ten, unexpectedly charming. After an hour or two of munching on breakfast with the happy tunes of Itetero, the channel is usually shifted to one that exclusively plays popular Nigerian and Rwandan music videos. As someone who spent every morning from age 8 to 13 watching MTV music videos, it’s a pretty nostalgic activity. Oddly enough, Rwandans don’t seem to listen to much Rwandan music which according to my host dad, is due to the fact that music has simply been apart of Nigerian and surrounding African countries’ cultures for longer.

Sometimes my host dad will point to the screen and tell me that he knows the famous pop-singer serenading a convertible of bikini-clad chicks in sunglasses. Yesterday for instance, I believed for a full 60 seconds that he went to school with Chris Brown. Since he’s a journalist who often interviews local musicians, I haven’t quite learned when to take him seriously and when not to.

Throughout the day, the living-room couch serves as a medial location for everyone to carry out their daily activities: ironing, eating, napping, folding laundry, drinking tea, doing work, dancing, and for the little ones––screeching, throwing soccer balls, and occasionally making piles of pillows and sofa cushions. While life happens around the TV, it stays on indefinitely, providing a comforting continuous background noise seemingly shared by all Rwandans.

I’ve also noticed that the TV serves another purpose once the sun has set––a light source! Who knew televisions could be so dual-purpose?! This usually means the ambience of dinner is set by the electronic glow of Rwandan newscasters and dramatic episodes of another personal favorite, City Maid. City Maid is 100% in Kinyarwanda, but there’s something challengingly fun about trying to match my reactions to what’s happening on-screen with the responses of those around me. Basically its a game comprised of laughing when everyone else laughs and gasping when everyone gasps. Anyway, City Maid seems to follow the scandalous lives of four different couples residing in Kigali. There’s usually one near-death experience per episode and almost always a drunk guy falling down on so-and-so’s porch.

Ultimately, I’ve concluded that while televisions are usually tied to superficial/couch potato stereotypes back home, constant TV-watching (at least here in my Rwandan home) has some serious beneficial purposes too. It not only brings us together at various points throughout the day such as mealtimes and general lounging, but it also connects us through that universal language of zoning out and consuming media.