Hello, I’m Mutabazi Peter, an international student in Algeria. I’m a poet and author, and writing has always been my way of making sense of the world. My first book, I Feel It Too, captures some of my deepest reflections, and my upcoming collection, Therapy Sessions, continues this journey.

What do you do When the Reality of Your Dreams Feels Colder Than the Winter Air?

Coming from Uganda, a country of sunshine and warmth, I left home eager to explore a new culture, make lifelong friends, and embrace the adventure of studying abroad. But when I stepped off the plane and into the biting chill of Algeria, I quickly realized that life here would challenge me in ways I never anticipated.

In this blog, I hope to share not only my story as an international student but also the lessons, surprises, and resilience I’ve discovered along the way.

First off, I’ve recently marked a year since moving to Algeria to pursue a bachelor’s degree in Geology. Unlike most people, I didn’t research much about the place I was visiting—I left everything to my imagination. When I thought of North Africa, I pictured the Sahara Desert. Perhaps that’s why many Americans assume there’s no water in Africa.

To my surprise, when I landed at Houari Boumediene Airport, I was greeted by the lush green of the trees. At first, I thought we had landed in an oasis—how could the desert be this green? But as I would later learn, this greenery was just a normal part of life in Algeria.

Cultural Surprises and First Impressions.

Another thing I hadn’t considered was that I’d be one of the few people with darker skin in Algeria. Naively, I assumed everyone in Africa had a similar complexion. Instead, I became an object of curiosity for the locals. The smiles they flashed at me and the other Ugandans I traveled with were warm and welcoming.

One of my first surprises was the way many Algerian women veil themselves. I’d associated veiling with countries like Iraq or Iran, not with Africa. Yet, this cultural difference didn’t faze me—I’ve always been confident in my ability to connect with people, regardless of tradition or language barriers.

I was assigned to Batna, a city far from Algiers. The six-hour bus journey there was my first long-distance trip by road, but I’d expected it—Algeria is the largest country in Africa, so distances between places are vast.

Adapting to Life in Batna.

When I arrived in Batna at 5:36 PM, I was hit with a slap of cold air. November in Algeria brings winter, and for someone from Uganda—a country blessed with year-round warmth—temperatures below 10°C were a shock. Back home, 19°C is sweater weather. Here, I had to learn quickly how to embrace the cold.

Settling into student life brought its own surprises. The university residences were gender-segregated, and female visitors were not allowed without supervision—a rule I thought I had left behind in high school. Fortunately, I was assigned a private room, which suited my preference for personal space.

The local cuisine was another adjustment, though an enjoyable one. I have a hearty appetite, so adapting to Algerian food wasn’t an issue. However, I soon noticed that the locals in Batna were less warm than those in the capital. They smiled less, spoke more Arabic than French, and had little interest in interacting with us.

Some even seemed hostile. Old women frowned at us, and many natives would rather stand than sit next to us on public transport. While this gave us more room, it didn’t feel good. Over time, we realized we weren’t entirely welcome here, but that didn’t deter me—I was here to achieve my goals, not seek approval.

Learning the Language and Maintaining Faith.

In Algeria, French and Arabic are the main languages used in schools. Before starting my geology courses, I had to take French lessons to ease communication. I had also resolved to stay true to my Christian faith, despite being in a predominantly Muslim country.

Church was initially a refuge for me, offering a sense of familiarity. However, the services were in French, which made it difficult to follow. I was advised by seniors that attending church would help me learn the language faster, but I stubbornly chose other methods. Looking back, I should have listened to them.

When I first arrived, I interacted with a few peers, and one question was always asked: “Are you Muslim?” At first, it was fine, but soon the question became tiresome. The more it was asked, the more it made me lose interest in engaging with others. What surprised me, though, was the shift in their attitude. If they found out I wasn’t Muslim, their mood would change from friendly to aggressive.

As for the girls, I had always been curious about interacting with Algerian women. For reasons I can’t fully explain, I’ve always had a thing for light-skinned girls. I remember when I was younger, I said I wanted to marry a white woman. But, I digress—when I met Algerian girls, it felt like I was talking to Muslim missionaries. Their conversations would always circle back to how great it is to be Muslim. And if you didn’t convert, that was the end of the friendship. Once they realized they couldn’t convince you, you would become invisible. Even if you saw them on campus, they’d act as though they’d never met you.

Challenges and Lessons Learned.

Batna presented unique challenges. Unlike international students in other provinces, life here wasn’t as smooth. For instance, before boarding my flight from Cairo, I lost my money purse, which held every last dollar I had. Determined not to worry my parents, I only confided in my brother, who unfortunately let the secret slip. While I was upset at first, I later appreciated his concern for my well-being.

Financial help from home eventually arrived, allowing me to regain my footing. With time, I focused on the goals I had set for myself before leaving Uganda:

• Quit smoking.

• Finish and publish my book (I Feel It Too).

• Create meaningful relationships.

• Speak fluent French within six months.

Out of these, I only managed to publish my book. Learning French proved harder than I had anticipated—partly because I was focused on finishing the book, but mostly because I didn’t dedicate enough time to it.

Building meaningful relationships was also trickier than expected. While I made friends with both genders, the bonds I formed with my male friends turned out to be stronger and more genuine. As for quitting smoking… well, that’s a story for another time.

Conclusion.

This sums up my first days in Algeria, but my journey is far from over. Living in Batna has taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of finding joy in small victories.

Since I’m still here, I’ve decided to turn this blog post into a series. In the next installment, I’ll share more about life in Batna, navigating cultural differences, and the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Stay tuned!

Have you ever found yourself in a place that challenged everything you thought you knew about the world?

I’d love to hear your thoughts—share your experiences in the comments below!