Little Observations

I get a ball(oon). I put it here. I feel happy.

You might be thinking that I'm living in my very own private sauna, being in Africa and all. I am not sure if it's just the country I'm in, or if it's the higher altitude, but it's actually not that hot over here. No, summers in NYC are much hotter, I feel. When it rains, I get cold. Granted, there are days where it's just sweltering, but then everyone is sweating and panting - not just me. In fact, it's rather lovely, most often. I don't need a coat, and I'm not crying from dehydration. Mama Bear-style weather. Just right.

And something that needs to be known...Asian people are always easy to find, no matter where you are. Even in Rwanda? Even in Rwanda. There is a healthy amount of Koreans and Japanese because they have a lot of telecom contracts here, and they have their countries' versions of Peace Corps scattered throughout Rwanda. Oh, and there are a ton of Chinese folk. They are doing a lot of construction and extraction work. The way a lot of us non-Chinese expats view it is, they are using Rwanda as a station to connect them to the Congo. Why? For their plethora of natural resources. The DRC has huge conflicts right now, largely because they're so rich in resources. Even Rwanda wants a piece of the action. But the Chinese were the first in line, and they are working hard to get the resources out and into their economy. It's merely an observation, but I am always surprised by what is consistent to where I'm familiar - like Chinatown.

I went to the police station once again yesterday to get my police record from the robbery 2 months ago. It's been kind of a run-around process, but I've been determined to get my insurance to cover some of my loss. It will happen....

Anyways, I went to the station alone. The inmates who were locked up in the cell outside the waiting area (where I was sitting and waiting, myself) became entranced in the Mzungu sitting in front of them. I had waves, stares, and lots of Kinyarwandan words (but very few English words). The police officer came out and started asking me a lot of questions, but his accent was so thick I had a hard time understanding. I tried a few words in English. What? No? Alright, how about a few words in French? No? Not that, either? We seemed to be completely incomprehensible to each other. What I did understand is he kept on saying, "IMMIGRATION!" I continually looked at him flustered, and saying, "....Insurance?" "Immigration?!" "...Insurance??" And so on. I waved around my passport and Green Card, and I think that confused the situation even more. In a huff, he had me follow him to some office. A petite lady walks out and says, "Why do you need this for immigration??" Honestly, I have no idea where they came up with this idea for immigration. "BUt I do not need to go to immigration. I have my visa and passport. I need this for insurance. I want to file a claim for what I lost in the robbery." I repeated this a few different ways, with them insisting I need it for something else, but I think it finally sank in what I was trying to get across. They both shrugged at me, and gave me the original. Oh, no no no, I just need a copy. But apparently they didn't mind donating the original document towards the good cause. After two months...mission: accomplished.

Too bad for insurance it's in French.

A building collapsed in town yesterday. I was on my way to my evening teaching job, and on the street that normally is pretty quiet and sparse of people I saw quite a large crowd of people loitering the area and shoving between each other. There were police everywhere, and I noticed one of the gates of a building was down. And so was the building.

Apparently, they were doing renovation work on the building, but they somehow managed to collapse the building by demolition work on the ground floor. I don't know why they thought doing demolition work on the ground floor made sense - it's like cutting the tree at the bottom. Timber! But the tragedy is that about 20 or 30 people were still in the building, or at least very close by. A lot of people died in that building accident. Personally, it is all too close to Memorial Week for me, and I'm skeptical, but all I know is that they say it was a freak accident. I hope they're right.

On the positive note...I thinking knowing I've placed an ending date of me being here has made me happier. I can enjoy it here a bit more - though I feel like I'm just more tolerant of the things that drive me crazy. I feel like it is easier to feel good about being here, because I know I'm leaving soon. Isn't it funny how knowing you can leave soon makes the difficult journey more enjoyable? I'm realizing now I would love to be a traveler around here, but that's about it. Not a long-term inhabitant. At least not right now. It doesn't suit me.

Anyways, little things are more enjoyable here. Like finding a blue flower on a bush that looks like a star. Like watching strangers singing and dancing while they do their house chores. Like bargaining with the moto drivers to go home. The idea of living here for a long time, or even forever, made me feel like I was turning into a person I didn't like, and I didn't want to be. Grumpy and curmudgeon. And a bit frenetic. But now, I am feeling more like my real self. I'm happier about the smaller things. I can whistle and sing tunes and dance a bit without feeling like I was just faking it all. I'm looking forward to going home.

Faith has a funny little ditty she does with the students. Don't ask me to explain it, because I'm not sure I totally understand it. But what she does is put an imaginary ball on parts of her body and start dancing that body part. So if you put the imaginary ball on your hips, you start shaking your hips. The ditty goes:

"I have a ball, (hold the imaginary ball)
I put it here, (put it on the body part)
I feel happy." (dance the body part)

I may not know exactly what she means, but I like it.