Empty office

Usually the rains don't come until the afternoon, but, when I woke up this morning, they had come early, in full force. The sound of the rain pouring on the tile roof made it difficult to get out of bed and even harder to leave my front doorway and walk to the office. Even with my raincoat, I was pretty well soaked by the time I arrived at the office a few minutes after eight o'clock. I was nervous that I would be the last to arrive, but when I opened the door, my office, which is normally full of at least eight data techs, a few counselors, several nurses and a couple lab techs, I saw no one. The office was completely empty, and it was obvious that no one had been there yet today. After a few minutes, one of my expatriate coworkers walked in. She was confused as I was, and we began to wonder if perhaps today was a holiday that had not been announced (amazingly, this is not a completely uncommon occurrence). Since there was no one to ask for clarification, and since even if it were a holiday, we were both already in the office, we began to work. Two hours later, the rains stopped, and approximately half an hour after that, people began to show up for work. At that point it became clear. I had forgotten that no one wants to get wet on their walk to the bus or the moto, so when it rains in the mornings, no one comes to work until after the rains have stopped. The rain is actually a valid excuse to come to work two and a half hours late, and I really can't argue with that.

Water, water everywhere

The four seasons in Rwanda aren't spring, summer, fall and winter; they're the small rainy season, the small dry season, the big rainy season and the big dry season. I was confused several months ago when someone first tried to explain the difference between two rainy seasons to me. The rains that last longer than four months, from the beginning of September through December, are considered the small rains, while the rains that last only a month in March or April are the big rains. I obviously didn't understand the difference between "long" and "big." Now I do. The rains are "big" because of the incredible quantity of water that pours from the sky.

What I don't understand now is the small dry season that was supposed to separate the small rains from the big rains. I think it may have lasted about a week in January, but I'm not sure. Regardless, it is now definitely the big rainy season. At least once a day, the skies grow as dark as night as black clouds roll in over the hills. The thunder and lightening follow just afterwards, before the clouds burst open and pour down water like a river. Sometimes the rains last just a few hours, but, more often than not, they last the whole day or the whole evening or the whole night.

My Rwandan coworkers tell me it hasn't rained this much in eight years. Back in those days, the rains were so hard that there was never any water in the city. As ironic as that may sound, I have no trouble understanding this point. The pipes used to bring water into the city weren't strong enough to withstand the added water pressure or the erosion, so they frequently burst and left the city without water.

Unfortunately though, it seems the pipes may not be any better now. It's been over two weeks since I've had water on a consistent basis. Every time I turn the handle on the sink, it's like a game of roulette. The majority of the time nothing happens. Sometimes, though, water actually does come from the faucet. On those occasions, it's like winning the lottery. I take a shower and brush my teeth and then fill as many containers as possible - jerry cans to flush the toilet, pots to boil for cooking and drinking, buckets for bathing. Then I hope that water will just last until the next time the plumbing works.

I think I'm beginning to understand what Coleridge meant when he wrote, "water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink." The rains continue to pour, but unfortunately, the faucet does not.

MIA

They say "when it rains, it pours." In Rwanda, though, when it rains, it pours, and it storms, and the lightning strikes, and it knocks out the generator, and it messes up the computer network, and for the next two weeks there is no internet. At least that's what happened this time, and it explains why I haven't posted anything in approximately two weeks. It's not that nothing has happened in Kigali or that I haven't wanted to share, but I just haven't had access to the internet long enough to upload stories or pictures. However, now that things seem to be back up and running, I'll go back and post some things that I've set aside over the last couple weeks, just as soon as I finish all the really important things like sending emails and paying bills and checking basketball scores from March Madness.

Tennis-racket-bug-zapper

Driving through the lowlands of Akagera National Park this weekend, our vehicle was swarmed with tsetse flies. We rolled up the windows when we realized what was happening, but the flies still landed on the windows, covered the hood and flew along beside us. When a few managed to get inside the car, I changed my mind about whoever had decided to pack the batter-charged, tennis racket-shaped bug zapper. I also changed my mind about whoever actually bought it. Even though I laughed when I first saw it, the ridiculous bug zapper was the only thing that saved us from the painful bites of the sleeping sickness-carrying flies.

Camping at Lake Muhazi

After leaving Akagera National Park, we headed back west toward Kigali. About an hour from the city, we stopped to camp at Lake Muhazi for the night. Camping here was a much different experience than camping in Akagera since we decided to camp at what is basically a small restaurant on the shore of the lake. Still, though, it was a gorgeous day, and we spent it laying on the shores of the lake, reading, playing frisbee and cards, and just relaxing. Not a bad weekend at all!
(Notice the frisbee on the roof in the previous picture - oops!)

Akagera National Park

This weekend I left Kigali and went camping with some friends in the east of the country. We first visited Akagera National Park, which is located on the Tanzanian border. "In contrast to the rest of the country, the area is relatively warm and low-lying and its undulating plains support a cover of dense, broad-leafed woodland interspersed wit lighter acacia woodland and patches of rolling grassland studded evocatively with stands of the superficially cactus-like Euphorbia candelabra shrub. To the west of the plains lies a chain of low mountains, reaching elevations of between 1600m and 1800m. The eastern part of the park supports an extensive wetland: a complex chain of a dozen lakes linked by extensive papyrus swamps and winding water channels fed by the mighty Akagera River." (Bradt Guide, Rwanda)

We entered Akagera in the south and drove northward along the edge of the lakes and swamps. Unfortunately we had to roll up the windows of the vehicle while we were in the lowlands to avoid the tsetse flies that inhabit the area, so I wasn't able to take many pictures.From the wetlands, we then headed northwest through the grasslands and into the hills. Although the wildlife in Akagera is significantly more limited than that in the Tanzanian game reserves, the park is consequently much less visited, which made the journey much more enjoyable. Once leaving the wetland area, it wasn't until the next day that we saw another vehicle. So, as we drove into the hills, we really were in the middle of nowhere. At the ridge of the hill, where we decided to set up camp, we could see for miles in every direction across the lakes and hills and grasslands of the park and neighboring areas. While we set up our tents and started a fire to cook dinner, we looked around at the breathtaking views and watched as warthogs, impala and zebra wandered around our campsite.The next morning we continued to drive north in the park. As we drove, we passed more incredible views and saw impala, zebras, warthogs, topi, giraffes and other animals.The views and scenes in the park were truly beautiful, and having the opportunity to camp in such an uninhabited, naturally gorgeous place was as incredible experience.

Big brother

In every restaurant, in every office, in every store, in every building, both in Kigali and outside the capital, there is a framed photograph of President Paul Kagame. Most often, the picture hangs high on the wall, close to the ceiling, so that President Kagame's face can be seen from as many points in the establishment as possible. Whenever I notice it, I can't help but think of the infamous phrase from George Orwell's 1984, "Big brother is watching you."

Waiting for reagents

Although we can perform most laboratory tests that we need in our own facilities at work, we sometimes send samples for testing at other laboratories in Kigali. These samples frequently go to the National Reference Laboratory (NRL). Lately, though, we've realized that we've been waiting an awfully long time to receive our results from NRL. When we looked into why this was happening, we found out that testing has been delayed at the National Reference Laboratory because they've been waiting for reagents needed for the testing since September. That's right, the National Reference Laboratory (emphasis on the first two words in the name) hasn't been able to do testing because they haven't been able to replace supplies they ran out of six months ago. Sometimes things are just a little ridiculous around here.

Making water

The most frequently needed task in my house always seems to be "making water." Any water from the tap has to be boiled to kill any microorganisms that might cause disease before it is drinkable, so several times a day, I have to "make water." It's not particularly difficult since it just involves filling a pot with water, putting it on the stove to boil, letting it cool and then transferring it to one of two five liter plastic bottles, but it's a constant process. I feel like I'm always boiling a pot of water right before bed, when I first wake up in the morning and any time I come home during the day. Whatever hassle it may be though, it's certainly better than swallowing any parasite that might be living in the water otherwise.

Gardening update

Now that my luck with tulips has turned bad, I'm placing all my gardening hope in my vegetables. Some are still doing better than others, but those that are doing well - radishes, carrots, zucchini and sqash, cabbage and spinach - seem to be doing really well. Hopefully I'll have better luck than I did with the tulips and these plants will continue to grow and produce vegetables.

African skin

When clouds finally covered the sky this afternoon, I glanced down at my skin and noticed that I had strong reason to give thanks for the shade. After a full day in the sun wandering through the Nyamirambo market yesterday and another at the funeral today, I'm afraid my pale, white skin has turned a bright red. I commented on my thankfulness to three of my coworkers who were walking with me back to the vehicle, pointing out the color of my neck, and one responded with "ooo" while another asked if I hadn't used "that lotion" (suncreen, which of course I had forgotten). The third told me my skin had not yet become African. I laughed at the thought, and he explained that if I stayed in Rwanda longer, my skin would become African. Curious, I asked him if my skin would become the color of his, to which he responded "no no no!", and I realized he just meant my skin would darken. He pointed to my neck as an example of how dark I was becoming. What I didn't have the heart or energy to explain was that in just a couple more days, the red on my neck will peel away and I would be left with skin even paler than it was before the weekend. I'm not sure this muzungu will ever have African skin.

Mourning and burial

On Wednesday, around noon, I received word that the father of one of my coworkers had passed away. I shared the news with the other employees in my department and asked what we ought to do. The immediate answer was that we should go to the family's home, which was understandable to me, until they said we should go immediately after work. I was amazed that we would go so soon, just barely five hours after the death, but trusted my Rwandan coworkers' judgement, since they would of course understand cultural practices better than I would.

We left the office together around 5:00 and, three mini-buses later, we arrived at my coworker's home. In the front yard, there were approximately a dozen brightly-colored, plastic chairs. We walked in and exchanged handshakes, kisses and greetings with others who had gathered before taking seat in the yard. We sat there, making small talk, until, one at a time, members of the family came out to greet us. We stayed at the house for just an hour or an hour and a half.

Afterwards, as we returned to town, one of my coworkers explained to me the Rwandan customs of mourning. The official mourning period after a death lasts for eight days. During these days, the family of the person who has passed away passes their time outdoors with the spirit of their loved one. Visitors will come to the house throughout the eight days to give their condolences and visit with the family. It is for this reason that the plastic chairs were arranged in my coworker's yard. In the evenings, they will build a fire in the yard for warmth and light. At any time during the eight days, the body of the deceased can be buried.

The funeral and burial for my coworker's father was scheduled for today. I met several of my coworkers at 11:00 in the morning and together we went to the church where mass was to be held. When we arrived, the church was completely filled and several dozen people had already gathered outside on benches along the edge of the building and in the shade of a large tree. I took a seat on one of the benches as more people continued to arrive. I have no idea how many people were inside the church, but outside we were nearly a hundred. The entire service was conducted in Kinyarwanda, so I have very little idea what was said. It seemed though that the first portion of the service was a traditional mass, which was followed by a time when family members - the wife, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters - stood to speak about the deceased. All in all, the service lasted three hours, during which those of us outside were constantly rearranging ourselves and our benches to stay as much out of the sun as possible.

After the service at the church, we all proceeded to the cemetery. There a tent was set up with chairs for the family next to the gravesite, and the rest of us gathered around. The service continued here, again in Kinyarwanda, with prayers and songs for almost another two hours. After the body had been lowered into the ground, we continued to a nearby restaurant/hotel, where we spoke to the family and were served bottles of Fanta and Coke. Finally, around 5:00 in the afternoon, I returned to my house.

Overall, the proceedings of the day weren't much different from those in the States; I was actually quite surprised by how similar the two are. Really the only unexpected thing in the day was the total amount of time consumed by the services, though, having spent half a year in Rwanda now, I shouldn't have even that surprised as everything here seems to last longer than I would expect.

Nyamirambo market

Nyamirambo is a section of town not far from where I live that is described by the Bradt Guide as "a lively, busy district of small streets and colourful little shops. The atmosphere has a touch of London's Soho about it. This is said to be the part of the present-day city where people first settled, long ago."

I spent today wandering through this area of town, eventually making my way to the market. There I found stall after stall filled with luggage, children's clothing, pots and pans and anything else one might need for a household. Nearby was the food section of the market - tremendous baskets filled with beautifully colored beans, perfect piles of snow white flour, stacks of bottles and cans of cooking oils, tropical fruits and vegetables that have no English name piled high on makeshift tables. I wandered through this section of the market, tempted to buy almost everything in sight, until finally I found the section I had been seeking. Hanging from floor to ceiling in half a dozen stalls were the beautiful African fabrics with their bright colors and bold designs. I began looking at the different patterns, trying to decide whether I wanted "one piece" or "two pieces" (the fabric is measured by how many pieces of traditional women's clothing it will make) and bartering with the shop owners over how much I would pay. At the end of the day, I bought two pieces of cloth, realized that I now need to find a tailor and promised myself that I would return in a week or two when the stalls would surely contain completely different selections.

Cold but nice

A few weeks ago, we replaced the air conditioner in my office (since I share my office with at least a dozen other people and there are almost that many computers, having an air conditoner is necessary in the African heat), and since then I have had to wear long sleeves or a sweater or a scarf to work every day. I think the newness of a good, working air conditioner has convinced everyone that it is necessary to run the machine at a constant 18 degrees (64.4 degrees Fahrenheit) throughout the day. It's really quite ridiculous when I have to shed layers every time I leave my office, and then add those layers again whenever I return.

After lunch today, while kicking myself for not making a cup of coffee to keep warm, I asked one of my coworkers if he wasn't cold. He seemed almost surprised by my question, responding that no, of course, he was not cold. He in turn asked if I was cold and I told him that I am cold every day in this office. Again he was surprised by my words and laughed a bit, but then told me "in our culture, a woman who's always cold, it means that she is nice."

As I continue to freeze in my office, at least I can comfort myself with the fact that apparently I'm seen as "nice."

A little America

Here in Kigali, the cost of anything that has been imported into the country, particularly food items, is simply exorbitant. A box of plain cornflakes is at least $7; a can of tuna is $4; a regular-sized bottle of balsamic vinegar is $10; a bag of chocolate chips is sold for as much as $66. Thus, any food from outside the country is an exciting commodity. At my house, I keep a small cabinet that is my treasure chest of food. It's really hilarious. I don't consider myself someone who loves sweets and has to have them on a regular basis, and yet the majority of the American food in my cabinet is sweet. There's pancake and biscuit mix, instant oatmeal, drink mix, hot chocolate, m&m's, chocolate bars, granola bars, chocolate chips, cake mix, cookie mix, icing, chocolate pudding, canned tuna; there are even three boxes of cereal that I bought from a friend who had brought them but was leaving the country for a new job. It's a funny relationship that the ex-pats here have with imported food. It's such a treat that even items that you would never particularly seek out in the States become valuable and exciting.

Sprouts

It's only been a couple weeks since we planted seeds in the six garden mounds in the front yard, and the first sprouts have started to appear.
Unfortunately, I forgot to make note of which vegetables are in which plot, but I believe radishes, squash or zucchini and cabbage or spinach have begun to grow.
I'm still hoping everything else - okra, cucumber, carrot, onion, cantaloupe, watermelon, tomato, green pepper, hot banana pepper and something else I've forgotten - will sprout too!

Chez moi

I figure it's about time that I post some pictures of "la maison spéciale". So, here's the grand tour.

First is my road. My house is in the distance on the left, just after the red gate.
When you walk in the front gate, this is the view up the hill toward the house. The area in the front is the garden, and just that, immediately in front of the house, is a grassy area with a huge, beautiful tree.
This is the front of the house. There's a patio on the front that's really nice, even though it has a weird gate around it. There's a side door on the left, but the main front door is on the patio.
When you walk in the front door, you enter the living/dining room.
If you walk through the door on the left side of the fire place, you enter a small hallway that leads to the kitchen.
Just outside the kitchen is a small room where we keep our refrigerator.
There's a small bathroom on this side of the house with just a shower, a toilet and a mirror.
Next to the bathroom is a small room that we use for storage and laundry.
Straight through the laundry/storage room is a tiny bedroom. It's not really large enough for someone to live in, but it can be used for guests who are in town for a few days.
If you walk back to the living/dining room and go through the door on the right of the fireplace, you'll be heading toward the other bedrooms. First you enter a hallway that has four doors. The two doors on the left (only one is shown in the picture) are bedrooms; the door straight ahead is a bathroom; the door on the right (also not shown in the picture) leads to a small hallway to my bedroom.
On the left of the hallway leading to my bedroom is my bathroom.
Straight ahead is my bedroom.
The door to the backyard is back towards the kitchen. The backyard is a little odd, with several buildings that would normally be used for a kitchen and housing for a guard or houseboy. Since my guard doesn't live here and I don't have a houseboy, the buildings are vacant, except for one room that holds the washing machine. There's also a tremendous satellite dish in the corner of the yard. It serves absolutely no purpose and I have no idea why it's there.
One of the best things about the house is the view from the front yard. The house faces west, so every evening, there is a beautiful sunset. Even during the day, though, the view of the opposite hill is impressive.So that's my house. It still has a few quirks, but it's really coming together nicely, and I'm quite happy with it.