Sunday started off gloriously with napping and snuggling with Edgar. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Edgar, he is my wonderful, kind, and very soft stuffed bunny rabbit. I bought him for myself for Christmas, and I am so glad I did. He feels just like a chinchilla (oh, how I love my soft things), and he keeps me company at night. I might feel like a child a little bit, sleeping with a stuffed animal and all, but the comforts of having something to hold while in bed in a foreign country has really been comforting. Say what you will - I am not ashamed!
After a good nap, Denise and I resolved to go to town for some necessary amenities in quietness while most people were at church. So we went to a bunch of shops to get everything for cheap - Simba, Nakumatt (not so cheap), and T2000. T2000 is a Chinese-run store and, thank goodness, has rice noodles without gluten in them. I felt like when I found them, the heavens opened up and angels started to sing to me something around the lines, "We want you to not be sick!" Thank you, angels!
So we shopped for a while and managed to get lost somewhere in town where the buildings were being built and the roads were dirt paths. We ended up, on our lost meander through town, seeing a cop kick a moto driver in the crotch! There are check points on the roads for moto drivers, since some of them lack licenses or something, I guess. The moto decided that today he wasn't going to stop whatsoever, and he decided to start speeding up in the checkpoint. The cop man tried getting in his way, and managed to do a roundhouse kick on the guy's seat while the man sped off. The cop almost flew to the ground, and I yelped.
We asked how to get back to Kagugu to men who spoke not a drop of English, and somehow we managed in a seedy part of town. Maybe the area really isn't seedy, but on a Sunday afternoon when no one is around, this abandoned-looking area seemed to me pretty odd. Of course, we were looking for our bus, and we managed to get on the wrong bus and ended up on the other side of town! My heart sank as we drove past our road turnoff.
We ended up in the Remera Bus Depot. I'm not sure at all what other African countries are like in their bus depots, but the ones here in Kigali are pretty loud and rather chaotic. Buses honking at each other, all splayed out in the parking lot behind a chain of stores. Men shouting bus routes and others shouting out where they want to go. Lots of pointing. Of course, being the sole Mzungu within a few kilometers (I'm sure), we were surrounded by helping men who wanted to make sure we were put in the best possible place and brought home as cheaply as possible. Is this sarcasm?
Frustratingly, we contemplated moto-taxis, but alas! None were in sight in the bus depot. We ended up huddled on some other squeeze bus, contemplating why we couldn't just buy a car...
At our last stop of the day, we raced home on moto bikes, challenging a menacing storm up above. The storms churned and bloated like a twister, and lightning streaked the sky as our little moto taxis hustled home. It was almost exciting. And a certain song from the Broadway show The Secret Garden flooded my head as I looked at the sky. But it never rained that night.
Monday was uneventful. We had a long day of classes and I came home to find out the fridge had blown a fuse. And that was that.
On Tuesday I had an exciting, novel evening. The Rwandan Ballet Company hosted a teacher from Alvin Alley and held some public jazzercise classes. It was supposed to be Zumba, but some technical glitches happened, and we resolved to practice Masala Bhangra instead. That's basically the Indian version of Zumba. And honestly? I was happy! I love Indian stuff! We danced and sweated (of course, I didn't sweat - I glowed!), and I felt good. I ended up meeting nice people at the event, and I went home happy, exercised, and slept like a rock star. Yeeeeeaaaahhh!!!
The day after, Wednesday, was a pretty big day at school. I mentor about 11 of our first-year students, and a few of us mentors decided to bring our mentees out for some nice tea to get to know each other better. And it's amazing how excited these ladies get over something as simple as tea. They were giddy and gleeful! I sang songs on the way to the restaurant, and the excited chatter filled the streets. We had a good time, too! They grilled me about myself. Mostly, they wanted to know about The Man. What is he like? How did we meet (imagine explaining Craigslist to women who have barely used computers before!)? When we will get married? Are they invited?
It's funny how women everywhere share this same gossipy love, to talk about boys. They told me all about their boyfriends and the boys they like. Some have up to 4 boyfriends! I was absolutely shocked, but they explained it was so they could make the best decisions about marriage. I don't know - I think I wouldn't be able to handle more than one man in my life. Some of them are even married, with children! Women around my age with babies running around! I cannot imagine.
But it's funny how there are some things that are very different between cultures. For example, the first thing they asked each other was if they still had their parents. That was also the first thing they asked me - "Teacher, do you have both your parents?" And that makes sense, especially here in Rwanda. So many people my age here are without parents, because of genocide and other health-related reasons. I've also been asked by other students before about the US, specifically what the children do who are not at school. Well, I have to explain, all children go to school. They were shocked. You see, in Rwanda you MUST pay for your education; there's no free education here. So the idea that every child in the area is educated, and for FREE, is amazing to them.
The conversation with the students was mind-opening for me a bit, too. One told us the story of her childhood love who was killed in the genocide. It was difficult to listen to, but it seemed like everyone in the group had some story that was similar. And I have to always remember that people here are still deeply affected by this dark past. Some of them lost everything, and everyone. It helps me understand why some people here act strangely, or have little manners or social tact. Or understand what's right and wrong - one girl chuckled at me and said, "Oh yes, I was almost raped this morning." What?! I was in utter shock! And the girls all chuckled along like, "Oh yeah, that happens." I was really upset, and I started telling them about self defense and how to protect themselves if they're ever attacked.
I have an idea, now, about a potential business...but I'm going to keep mum on it a little bit for now, for the sake of my IPR.
Anyways, after our deep talks, we danced. And they LOVED to dance.
Thursday, yesterday, was my first day with real African Rain! We had no electricity at school, and the rain poured so hard that you couldn't hear what the person next to you was saying. It made for interesting classes. But after the rain cleared, we went on a field trip to a nearby hotel, Top Tower. We had a fun time learning about casinos in their casino space, and the students were awesome in asking questions and being polite. They should get gold stars for their hard work.
And then Denise and I, tired and exhausted, went out for drinks with some friends. The hotel owner had invited us for drinks, and he offered to pay for all of our drinks. WHICH WAS AWESOME! But the servers poured deep wine glasses, and within 2 drinks I was two sheets to the wind. We chatted about our ideas and dreams, and kvetched about work, and overall had a nice time.
But, like most Rwandan restaurants, service is SLOW! We wait for about an hour or more for food, wherever we go. Sometimes it's because of the service, but oftentimes it's because if you go back to the kitchen, all they have to cook on is a few pots, maybe a pan, and a coal cooker. A coal cooker is basically one little flame where you put your pan. And that's for the entire restaurant! No wonder it takes so long. I wouldn't have been so sloshed had the food come when we were having drinks, but we waited 2 hours for chips! Let's just say, I slept well that night, and woke up feeling like I got hit by a car.
By the way, what should I say when they ask me what is my tribe?! According to my colleagues, my tribe is America. Who knew I'd ever have to answer that question?
1 comment:
If America is your tribe, someone should tell Obama he is a tribal chief!
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