Thrill-rides, Treks, and the Quest for Deodorant

I’m here! I’m in Rwanda. Some of us (including me, at times) thought the day would never come. I feel like I’ve been tearing through book after book about the culture, the genocide, the history, politics, economy, everything; and now I’m walking on the soil of the place that’s been on my mind, a figment of my imagination, for a long time now. I kind of collapsed in bed in a daze the first night here, staring up at the huge mosquito net that drapes over my bed, taking in some of the sounds from outside. (There’s something like a cross between a monkey and elephant out there – I’m determined to find out what it is. There’s also been some monk-like singing coming from a house nearby – the guy was serenading our street pretty loudly this morning 4 a.m.).

The trip over was…interesting. It was pretty smooth, minus a few casualties, like almost missing my plane in Brussels, not sleeping more than 4 hours in a 48-hour period, and misplacing my passport for about 15 minutes just breaths after getting off the plane in Rwanda. Oh, and it became very clear very fast that people in Belgium don’t wear deodorant. That made for a long(er) third and final leg of the trip from Brussels to Kigali. And it reminded me – I forgot to pack deo. Whoops. Had a little *gasp* moment on the plane there. Oh well, hope it’s in Kigali.

Exploration was the name of the game the first day here. I woke up with this gripping desire to go for an aimless trek. It was an insatiable feeling, pretty overwhelming, and I couldn’t even wait to get dressed - it was taking too long. I’ve done a good amount of talking/getting lost since then.

Some first impressions, thoughts, and observations:

• · I FOUND IT. Okay, so I’ve done some traveling to different countries in college, and I never really found people in other countries who “got” my humor/even really the American humor style, or conversely, whose humor I understood/jived with. A lot of it, I assumed, had to do with language barriers. No. Rwanda is it. The people here totally get my jokes, and I get theirs. They are witty and sarcastic. My coworkers can be a riot. These are my people. I’m going to love this.

• · Remember about that deodorant? Searching for deodorant here is like searching for Shamu in the desert. Like in Belgium, deo is not the trend here. Ha. Maybe I should just get used to it and blend in. Just kidding…….

• · Riding motos, small motorcycle-like things everywhere in Kigali, is the equivalent of a thrill-ride – especially at night. I try to keep my eyes open. And these rides are cheap, if you know what’s a rip-off and what’s not.

• · I still have to figure out how on earth the women here balance ridiculous loads on their heads. It’s pretty remarkable. Sometimes it’s enough sticks to fill 3 fireplaces, banana leaves by the pound, bags of rice, large walruses (not really, but pretty close).

• · I’m going to have to just get used to being stared at. And talked to in the markets like my hair is made of money.

• · I’m also going to have to just get used to being totally confused 95% of the time.

• · Rwandan tea is delightful. I’m hooked.

• · Rolling blackouts are common, a means enforced by the government to reduce electricity usage. I’ve been told it’s not uncommon for the house to lose electricity for about 4 days, maybe more. Get ready, cold showers and candles.

• · One of my favorite people in Rwanda so far is the night guard at the house, David. His smile is one of those that immediately make you smile. And his voice is angelic. I’ve heard him singing a few times at night. He writes and releases Rwandan music, and he’s always reading whenever I come and go. His English is very good, despite what he says. I have a feeling we’ll be teaching each other some languages.

• · One thing I’m missing a lot right now: shorts. I knew I would have to say goodbye to them. I know that it’s unacceptable for women to wear shorts here. I know, I know. It was a difficult parting. Anyone who’s been around me for at least 5 minutes knows that shorts and me are like peanut butter and jelly. We stick together. Any temp above 50, I wear shorts. Any temp below 50, I’ll consider wearing pants. This is going to be difficult.

• · They sell peanut butter. For anyone who doesn’t yet understand the tremendous significance of this: this is tremendously significant. PB is my sustenance.

• · I need to pick up Kinyarwanda. Like now.

• · I’m blown away by how safe and stable Kigali is as I walk around with fresh knowledge about the events of the genocide. It’s crazy and impossible to me. It’s also eerie to set foot on the same dirt roads where so many atrocities were committed in my own lifetime. I suppose it's also very uplifting in a sense - that it's possible for a country to come so far after something so bitter happened. It makes me wonder about the in's and out's of this reconstruction process.